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“I’ll do it,” I whisper.
He sighs, leaning back. “Take whatever you want. Nana’s dishes and quilts are yours. I just want this done tonight.”
“You mean you want me gone tonight,” I say, my voice empty.
He goes to the door. “Go pack your things. Anything else you want, I’ll have it sent to Thomas’ house later this week. He’s taking you home tonight, and tomorrow, you go to the courthouse.”
He leaves, boots clipping down the hall. I hear their voices in the kitchen, and I close my eyes, leaning against the wall. The front door opens and slams. I wonder who came in from the front porch, but I don’t really care. Silence falls.
“Diane.”
I open my eyes. Jensen Childress stands in the dark doorway. His face is shadowed beneath his cowboy hat. It occurs to me that he’s friendly with Sovereign Mountain. If I recall correctly, he knows Westin well. I lift my chin and wipe my face.
He gestures, helplessly. “I dropped by to pick up a check. Looks like I walked in on something.”
“You know Westin,” I say.
He nods once. “I do.”
My chest constricts.
“Can you tell him that I’m sorry?” I manage.
“You’re going with Thomas, aren’t you?” he says, stepping into the living room.
“I need the Garrisons’ protection to save the farm,” I say, squaring my shoulders.
He takes his hat off, releasing a sigh. “You’re brave, Diane. I’ve always thought that about you.”
I don’t feel brave. I’m so scared, my knees are weak.
“Just tell Westin I’m sorry when you see him next,” I say. “He knows about the access road.”
He blinks, not moving.
My throat closes. I clear it. “And tell him to stay away, that I’m handling this.”
He gazes at me for a long time. Then, he dips his head once.
“And, Jensen,” I whisper. “That gun you keep in your belt… Can I have that?”
He doesn’t speak. I see his shoulders sink as he takes the pistol from its holster and hands it to me, pointed down. I take it and slip it into the folds of my skirt, the metal warm in my hand.
“It’s fully loaded,” he says, voice hoarse. “If you’re at close range, make sure you have time to flip the safety first.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He puts his hat on his head. “Good luck.”
Then, he’s gone. I wonder if he’s going to Sovereign Mountain tonight. I hope he is. It’ll break my heart if Westin waits on the hill for someone who’s never coming.
Broken, I climb the stairs and creep down the hallway. My room is sticky with summer heat. My bed isn’t made. I pull back the covers and stare down at the faint bloodstain.
I scrubbed it out, but it left a pale mark. It’s a reminder of the best afternoon of my life, wrapped up in the heat of his body.
This house has kept me safe for twenty-one years, but tonight, it feels like a museum for the things that could have been.
If my parents had lived, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
