Page 143 of Pink and Country

The entire planet hated me with a fierceness I never knew could exist toward someone you’d never even met.

And the worst thing? People now hoped Carter would reunite with Savannah Prince. In her interviews, she called me a mistake, a slipup, and a bump on the road. Great.

One tabloid depicted me as a bloodsucker only ruled by rich men’s wealth.

One blogger called me “The Money Whore.” I cringed at the painful memory.

The day after I left Green Mountain, June contacted me. We needed to go over some statements and papers together, as Carter’s legal team was managing the “fuck-up.”

I was the fuck-up. My life was. My entire existence was.

Carter had done nothing wrong.

Except falling in love with a girl like me. With me. With the wrong girl.

June tried to comfort me. “Give it some time, April,” she’d said. “It will go away. Just let us all do our job.”

Something had shifted between us. I could hear it in her voice. Her tone was sharper. It missed its usual warmth. I couldn’t blame her. The press depicted me as a witch who wooed rich guys to fall in love with her, married them, and stole their money. The first one died a week after we eloped, nothing to ease the public opinion about me. People feared I’d ruin Carter somehow. June told me once she’d do anything to protect him. She was a woman of her words. At least he was in good hands.

A wave of nausea hit me, and I rushed to the bathroom.

I was tiptoeing back to my bedroom when I heard Taylor on the phone, his voice low. I drew in a whistling breath.

“No, she isn’t doing better. There was no threat today, though. That’s good.” A pause. “She barely eats and never goes out. I do most of her errands or Saunders does.” Another pause. “I understand.” A long pause. “Nope, I don’t think so.” He sighed. I’d never heard Taylor sigh before. Usually, he kept his composure intact no matter the situation. He showed no emotion, kept his face unreadable, and his back straight. “Sure, I’ll keep you updated. Good night.”

Carter.

I wanted to talk to him.

To kiss him.

To ask him to suck all my pain away.

To heal my broken heart.

I wouldn’t contact him, though. Not now. Not ever. The wounds needed time to heal, and talking to him would only make the process harder and lengthier. Tomorrow will be better.

* * *

Three years ago

“You can come closer, babe. I won’t break,” Travis whispered as he opened his arms to welcome me into his embrace. “I need to hold you one last time.” I tiptoed toward the bed and sank my body into his. Travis took a whiff of my hair. My throat closed up. No words could come out. “April, promise me you’ll keep living. And that you’ll never let other people kill all the goodness in you.”

I closed my eyes, picturing Travis as his old self. His healthy, happy self. With a glint of mischief in his eyes. Just the way I wanted to remember him forever. Tears prickled the back of my eyes. I raised my arms, trying to touch every inch of him. To memorize every inch of him. His lips found my temple.

“I’ll always be here.” Travis pointed to my heart. “And there,” he said, pointing at the sky. “You deserve to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, babe. Don’t be afraid. I’ll forever watch over you.”

“I love you,” I said, the words dissolving on the tip of my tongue.

“I’ll always love you. Be brave. Be fearless. And listen to your heart.”

I opened my mouth to speak up, but Travis crashed his mouth on mine, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. Hours bled together.

“Travis. Travis.” I called his name but in vain. He was gone. A thick cloud blanketed me. Wrapped in his favorite sweater—the one I gave him on his birthday two years ago—I rocked myself back to sleep. Travis left me three days ago. Forever.

* * *

All the air exited my lungs, and I woke up. I rubbed my hands over my eyes. I dreamed of Travis, then of Carter, and it all seemed so real. I scanned my bedroom. For half a second, I wondered where I was. Reality sunk in. I was back in Georgia. Not in Green Mountain with him. A tightness clamped my heart.