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Patrick had insisted that he invest it, and I’d said no. I knew what Gram wanted me to do with it, and it wasn’t to give it to Patrick. My parents had tried to insist I share half with Shania. That had been one of the rare occasions when I’d outright declined to do as they wished.
Instead, I told a little white lie and informed my parents, Shania, and Patrick, that I’d locked the money away until I turned thirty. So, no, I could not give them one-third each. No, I couldn’t offer Shania half. I knew exactly why my Gram had left them nothing, and that was because they had no time for her. Hell, even I hadn’t known Gram’s true worth. The figures had been a shock.
When I ran from them in Spearfish, I’d gone straight to Rapid City. I loved the Black Hills and hadn’t wanted to leave them, so Rapid City had been ideal for me to lose myself in. The wedding had been booked for two weeks after my twenty-third birthday, not so great timing for me. But I was able to access some of the money, and I found a three-bedroom home in a quiet neighbourhood that had elderly people and young families.
Unlike my parents, I hadn’t wanted to live in a busy area, so this little street with my house set back from the road was perfect. It was at the end of the street and backing onto the start of the Black Hills’ treeline. There were also a couple of acres with it. The previous people had bought the land before the developer could buy it and ruin their view. I was happy and content. The house was cute.
White picket fence—obviously—plus an arch covered in honeysuckle set in the middle of the fence, led to a path that meandered to my home. There were huge English-style bay windows downstairs and panelled ones upstairs. A wraparound porch and a garden room had been added just before I bought the house, too. Trees grew in the front and back yard, and I’d discovered they produced peaches, pears, cooking apples, and eating apples.
The back yard was big and had blackberry and gooseberry bushes, a vegetable patch, which I adored working on, and flower beds everywhere. There was a patio area set up under trees, and randomly dotted around the huge back garden were benches, loveseats, and statues.
I’d also began an herb garden, which was cute, and I loved it. Gram had taught me how to garden, so it was something I liked doing a lot. It made me feel closer to her.
It was a square house with a sunken lounge leading up a couple of steps into a large, stylish, country-style kitchen slash dining area. A small study, and downstairs cloak, and a final room I had turned into my winter space. It had French doors leading out onto the porch and then down them and into the woods. A real wood-burning stone fireplace that worked, a few big armchairs, and a slouchy couch with thick rugs on the floor.
On facing the French door, a large bay window sat to my left, while the other two walls showcased shelves. On them were random ornaments which I had picked up and books. I loved my summer/winter room.
Upstairs were three medium-sized bedrooms and my big master with a bath. I had a four-poster bed with voile drapes tied back. It was high off the floor, and it was king-size. I had to run and jump on it, and the damn thing swamped me, but I adored it. I had done the room in an old-fashioned country style, so white wicker furniture, duck egg patterned wallpaper on two walls, and off-white wooden floorboards on the floor.
As I watered the indoor plants, I heard a car engine and looked out of my blinds and saw a new black SUV parking on the street. Thinking it was Ezra, I darted back from the window and began deep breathing. I looked down at myself and bit my lip. I wore faded tight jeans, thick wool socks with the jeans tucked into them, and a peach tank top with a cream and pastel plaid shirt over it. My hair was tied up in a ponytail, and I wore minimal make-up.
These were my at-home and comfy clothes. It was four o’clock, and I was sure Ezra had told me five, but maybe he’d got off work early. Excited, I walked to my door as the old-fashioned bell rang and opened it with a grin that soon died.
“What do you want?” I snapped at Patrick, who stood on my porch.
Patrick was looking around, and judging by his expression, he was impressed.
“Came to chat,” Patrick replied, giving me the smile that in the past had made me melt.
Now, I saw it for what it was: snide and smarmy.
“Nothing to talk about. Leave,” I said and went to shut my door.
Patrick put a hand up and stopped me from shutting it. My mouth dropped open at his audacity, and Patrick smiled as he pushed his way in.
Angry, I whipped my phone from my pocket and, hitting messages, I sent one to Ezra. ‘Help! Ex! Need your big foot up his ass.’
Patrick strolled down the hallway, and he opened doors, looking inside various rooms. I couldn’t believe what he was doing. He found the door leading to my lounge and walked through it. Furiously, I chased after Patrick and discovered him standing by the fireplace, impressed.
“Get the hell out of my house,” I hissed, crossing my arms and standing by the doorframe.
“Dana, please, let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. You fucked my sister the whole five years we were together, and then you married Shania the day after I caught you cheating! I think that sums it up.”
“Dana, I never loved Shania,” Patrick denied, and my mouth dropped open a second time.
What on earth? I looked at him and wondered how I had ever fallen for his shit. Patrick was around six feet, three inches smaller than Ezra. His hair was combed back and slicked with product. Patrick preferred being clean-shaven, and he had pale blue eyes. Sure, Patrick was good-looking in the boy next door style, but he wasn’t close to Ezra’s hotness.
“Should I call Rage, or will you leave?” I asked, tapping a foot.
Patrick looked at me and smirked. “Baby, we know that you’re better than that.”
Patrick’s words caused my gaze to widen.
“Than what?”
“A grease monkey biker. Did you see what he was wearing? You really expect me to believe you, you, are with him!” Patrick grinned, smug in his confidence.
