Page 10 of Drowning Her

I locked eyes with Maisie. She would die too. And I wouldn’t stop it. It was the only promise we all had.

“I do,” I said.

Her lips quivered, her natural scent pushing through the honeysuckle, as if nothing could match that ripe primal instinct circulating within her, telling her not to be afraid. But she nodded along to the same vows, agreeing to a future that neither of us could guarantee.

“I do,” she said.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I reached a hand behind her back, tracing the curve of her spine. She closed her eyes, opening her mouth, ready for me.

I smacked down hard, knocking my teeth into hers, then I shoved her away. Everyone stood, clapping. ‘Wedding March’ clanged through the speaker system. We walked down the aisle together, a few feet apart.

A coordinator yelled about taking pictures with the wedding photographer, motioning for us to follow him, taking the SUV to the pond. The Feldman Farm had been in our family for generations, and that meant a vibrant scenery tied in with the ranch. Plenty of acres. A few ponds. Cattle roaming with ease. And in the distance, you could see Pierce Mountain in blue and green. My father signaled for me and Sawyer to join him in his truck.

While the bridal side of the wedding party took photographs, the three of us stood behind, waiting.

“This is an advantage, isn’t it?” Forrest said, slapping my back. I held my chin stern, and Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “Not like your brother, huh? You don’t need to get attached. Just ship her off when you’re ready.”

I studied my brother for a moment. He held his mouth still, not letting on that the words bothered him. Maisie stood against the pond, the bottom of her dress black with mud. That was a failure on my father’s part. A farm wedding called for something shorter. Easier to walk in. With room to breathe. The dress was beautiful and fit her like a glove, but it was impractical. Sweat glistened on her skin, her body sparkling. How heavy was the dress? Would it weigh her down like cinder blocks, letting her sink to the bottom of the pond?

“I was never attached,” Sawyer said.

“Denial, my boy,” Forrest chuckled. “The whole experience shocked you, didn’t it? It did for me too.”

Sawyer had never actually married the woman, but that didn’t mean that he was unaffected by the circumstances. Still, I already knew with certainty thatthiswas the only union I could handle: one bound by money and disinterest.

“Not my Wilder, though,” Forrest continued. “You’ll be ready for the Feldman Offering.”

I focused on Maisie, her mauve lips. Whenever the day came, we—Maisie and I both—would be ready.

Forrest pulled out his phone and punched a few buttons. Both my phone and my brother’s beeped.

“Your first livestock orders in the Feldman Trial,” Forrest explained.

“Nine names,” Sawyer said to himself, scanning the secure messaging app. On my phone, there was only one name listed.

My father turned to Sawyer. “Those are business opportunities for you to consider. Take care of it, then absorb their contacts. And Wilder.” He faced me. “I went to findher and came up empty-handed. Perhaps I’m getting too old for the business.”

In the distance, the cattle lowed to each other, barely acknowledging the wedding. The Dairy Barn loomed beyond the gate, locked and closed. Maisie posed, lying in the grass next to the pond. She locked eyes with me for a moment, a flash of curiosity twisting in her saddle brown eyes, and that inquisitive nature was her weakest flaw. It wasn’t the way to survive.

The heat baked down on us, a droplet of sweat tracing down my neck. The pond would be warm, but still cooler than this. Maisie would struggle when I held her down, suffocating in the muddy banks. The dirt caking her cheeks, her lipstick smearing with it. With enough effort, she might even make it worth my while, struggling against me in the pond, her wedding dress bunching up around her hips.

Chapter 4

Maisie

After the photographerflashed one last picture, I laid in the grass, waiting for instructions from the coordinator. A shadow cast over me. My father-in-law’s gray hair came into view, the sun shining behind him. He offered me a hand, and though I hesitated for a moment, I took it, letting him help me up.

“You’ve spoken to him twice now,” he said. “And not so much as a kiss.”

The hairs on my arms stood on end. “You’re watching us?”

“Us?” He chuckled to himself. “I’m waiting to see if you will fulfill our business deal, as planned.”

Why was he so rushed? “We just got married,” I said.

“And I don’t see you being the honorable bride, waiting for your wedding night, given your—” he wrinkled his nose, “—previous profession.”

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