Page 24 of Every Promise Broken

“Deal,” I blurt out. “If, after you’ve taken some time to truly consider it, you still say no, I will respect that, but please, Whit, I would really appreciate it.”

He flattens his lips, brows furrowed. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

The weight of a thousand pounds is lifted off my chest, allowing me to breathe deeply for the first time in days. “Thank you.”

“You can leave now,” is all he says.

“What about my lemonade?”

He scowls at me. “Goodbye, Conrad.”

As I leave, I feel lighter, but it very well could be temporary. Now, I just have to hope and pray that Whit will see it from my side, and that his soft spot for my nana is still strong enough. By the time I get back to the ranch, I’m not sure who I need to believe the lie that we’re still married more… my nana or Whit.

11

Conrad Strauss

It’s been a week since I asked Whit to pretend to be my husband while my nana is in town.

A week since he told me he’d think about it.

An entire week of crickets.

At this point, I’m going to assume he won’t do it, and while I’m disappointed, I do get it. Whit is a good man. He cares about others, and doing the right thing is something he has always prided himself on. Asking him to do something like this was a huge ask, and I knew I ran the risk of him shutting me down. But that just goes to show how desperate I feel.

A knock sounds at my door as I’m rinsing a few dishes in the sink. “Come in,” I call out. “I’m in the kitchen.”

Turning off the water, I grab the tea towel from the counter and dry my hands, just as Will walks into the room. He’s dressed in a pair of slacks and a button down, more than likely coming straight from work.

“Hey.” I nod my chin at him as I throw the towel back onto the counter.

“How’s it going?”

“Not too bad.” Walking over to the fridge, I pull open the door. “Beer?”

“Sure, thanks.”

We take them outside on the porch. It’s chilly, but a nice evening. “So, what’s new with you?”

Will takes a long pull off his beer, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Ah, same old,” he murmurs.

“Still sneaking around with Colt?” A smirk tugs on my lips as he scowls at me. Recently, he admitted to me that he’s been sleeping with Colt Bishop, the son of our other best friend, Max. Max doesn’t know, and for some reason, the entire situation is beyond amusing to me. I honestly have no clue how Max is going to respond when he finds out. Out of the three of us, Max is the most hotheaded, so it could go either way.

“It’s not like that,” he grunts, then promptly takes another swig off the bottle.

“Oh, you told Max?” I tease. “He must’ve forgotten to tell me that when I saw him the other day.”

“No, we haven’t told him, but sneaking around sounds so juvenile,” he replies. “It’s more than that with us.”

Memories from when Whit and I first got together flit through my mind like a slideshow. There was a lot of sneaking around happening back then, too, so I get it. Our heart sometimes wants what it shouldn’t have, and we’re helpless to the feeling. From what little Will has told me, he and Colt happened a few years back as a drunken one-night stand. Seems like liquor and lust fueled the hookup, and it wasn’t until recently that it became more than that when Will moved back to Copper Lake.

It was different for Whit and me. Our connection was gradual, and it wasn’t always romantic. We met when he was a teenager, back when I saw him as such. He worked on this ranchfor years before we ever became more, but once the transition happened, it felt like coming home. It felt a missing puzzle piece finally finding its place in my soul.

There were many people, my father included, who thought our relationship was wrong, in the very same way some people may think that about Colt and Will. There are dozens upon dozens of reasons why I love where I’m from. Why I love living in such a small, close-knit town. But for all those incredible reasons to love it, there’s also one downfall. When you come from such a small place, where everybody knows everyone, people tend to think they’re owed the right to an opinion on your life. And they’re not.

“Do you know what you’re going to do about Max yet?”

He shakes his head, looking out into the yard. “No. With the holidays coming up, it just doesn’t seem like the right time. We’ll probably wait until after.” Turning his gaze to meet mine, he asks, “Figured out what you’re going to do about your incoming visitor and the secret you’re keeping from her yet?”

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