Page 32 of Heathen

"That man is nearly thirty years old. He should have his life figured out by now."

"Some father he is," I mutter.

"Because you turned thirty last month," Eleanor says with sadness in her tone. "Did they not even call?"

"Do they ever?" I mutter.

"Mr. Whiters says you bought a wife. Was that a joke?"

"Sort of," I say, once again trying to ease the threat of a headache by pinching the bridge of my nose. When it doesn't help, I press the tips of two fingers between my eyes, relieving the pressure built up there only a fraction.

"Explain sort of," Ellie demands.

"That depends. Are you asking for yourself, or for your parents?"

"They're your parents, too," she argues. "But you know where my loyalties lie."

"Why don't you leave?"

"We've already had this conversation. I want to finish college, and if I go, I'll have to pay for it myself. I'm not meant for sand and combat boots," she says, as if the idea of the military for her is appalling. "I'm going to play along until my trust fund is released and then I'm out of here."

"They'll marry you off before that happens," I remind her, knowing how my parents are.

"Let's talk about your marriage," she suggests in a bid to change the subject from her life back to mine.

"There's not much to tell."

"You can start by why you had to pay a woman to marry you."

"That's not exactly what happened," I begin, but then the side door to the house opens. "I have to go, Ellie. I promise I'll call and explain everything soon."

I end the call before she can argue and look up at Rooster.

"Hey, man," I say.

"Telling your family all about your happy news?"

My lips form a flat line. I figured I'd have to tell everyone what happened, but leave it to this fucker to have had some form of tracker on my movements.

"How do you know who I was talking to?" There's no anger in my tone. I'm genuinely curious how the guy knows so much.

"You called her Ellie. That's your baby sister, right?"

"It is," I answer, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Don't look at me like that. It's my job to know everything about everyone."

"How much do you know?" I ask, following him into the house when he turns back in that direction.

"Probably more than you," he says but not in a challenging way. "So, you decide that marrying her is the best way to keep her safe."

"It was a whole thing," I mutter as we enter the kitchen.

I pull two bottles of water from the fridge and pass one off to him. He pulls out one of the stools from the breakfast bar as if he's settling in for a juicy story.

"Who all knows?"

"Just me right now. I figured I'd give you the opportunity to explain what you've done. I'm not a snitch."

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