Page 20 of Sugar
“How?”
I scratch my jaw. “Ava’s back.”
This gets his attention. “I saw her at the bar after Melody’s funeral. What does she have to do with anything?”
“She’s a lawyer now,” I explain. “And she’s got a plan.”
“What plan? A countersuit?”
I shake my head. “Better. She’s going to torch Huck’s plans to sue us in the first place. One of us needs to be married to gain control of the trust. So she’s offered herself up.”
“Jesus,” Brooks chokes out, sputtering around a cough. “You dumbass motherfucker—you cannot justmarrythat girl, Kasey.”
I shrug. “It’s the only way. We get married, we get to transition ownership of the ranch.”
“Yeah, okay, and then what?” He sounds pissed.Good, I think. Let him feel something other than his pain.
“And then we end the marriage and move on with our lives like it never happened.”
“It’s gotta be more than that,” he argues. “Does she want ownership too? Her name on the deed? Or does she want money? Not sure if you’ve looked around lately, but we don’t exactly have any. We just emptied the coffers burying myactualwife.”
“Whoa, Brooks,” I say, working to stay calm. “She doesn’t want money. It’s not like that. She doesn’t want anything.” Butmy stomach sours with guilt, because I still don’t actually know why she’s offered to do this, or what’s in it for her. I guess I’ll know after our date tonight . . . Maybe I should have waited to tell Brooks about it until I had all the facts.
Still, I can’t imagine Ava actually trying to swindle us out of what’s ours. She might have been cold-blooded with my heart, but she’s a good person. “She’s just here to help. It might . . . it might be a way for her to make amends, or something. I don’t know. But I’m not going to let her fuck the family over. I promise.”
Brooks looks out into the horizon, staying silent. “What about you?” he finally asks. “How are you going to make sure she doesn’t fuckyouover?”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” I say, my tone making it clear that I’ve considered this from all angles. “This is just about paperwork, nothing else. It isn’t . . . There’re no feelings in it this time. We have to give the gossip mill just enough so people think it’s all believable and Huck doesn’t come after us for fraud, but we both know it isn’t real.”
He shoots me a long, hard look. “Sure, Kasey, you say that now. But I know you. I know how much you loved that girl. This sounds like nothing but a surefire way to get you all twisted up again.”
“It’s not,” I say. “And fuck, evenifI get hurt again, it’s worth it to save this ranch.” I point my thumb back toward the back door. “If I have to pretend to love my ex-girlfriend to make sure those boys in there get to inherit Bennett Rescue Ranch one day and continue our way of life, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I refuse to let some dickwad like Uncle Huck shove us out so he can build a fucking hundred-room hotel out in that pasture.”
Brooks scoffs, shaking his head. “Jesus,” he mumbles to himself.
The back door squeaks open, and Noah slinks outside. “Dad?” he asks, his voice a little shy. “I’m hungry.”
Brooks looks at him, forcing a smile. “Okay, buddy, I’ll be in in a minute.”
“I got it,” I say, standing. I turn to look at my brother. “I know what I’m doing,” I promise.
“You shouldn’t have to do this,” Brooks says back.
“I know,” I agree. “But there’s a wolf at the gate, and someone’s gotta take him down.”
He doesn’t respond, his eyes going withdrawn as he looks back toward the distant tree line. I know he’s carrying the weight of so much right now, and I don’t want this threat to pile on. Brooks has always been firm and steady in the way he’s led this ranch, but right now he’s not in a position to take the reins.
I turn back to Noah. “Come on, kid,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go find something to eat.”
Brooks stays outside while I prepare sandwiches and a pot of macaroni and cheese in the kitchen. Liam scrubs dishes at the sink while his younger brothers clean their shared room. I realize as I stir the yellow pasta that it doesn’t actually sound like there’s any cleaning being done—there’s a loud thumping against the wall that doesn’t sound too good.
“What the . . .” I mutter to myself, grabbing the kitchen towel to wipe my hands so I can go investigate.
“They’re practicing roping,” Liam says, focused on a particularly dirty plate.
“Roping?” I frown. “In the house?”
He hums. “They practice on stuffed animals.”
