Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
A small giggle came from her, and it was like a balm to my soul.
“I’ll go load your things. You can say your goodbyes to Oakley,” Wilder told Sarah, then turned and headed to the stairs. Not once looking back at me. No words or promises of when I could see Sarah again. He had reasons to hate me that I understood. There had been times over the years I had hated myself for the same reasons.
He couldn’t keep Sarah from me. I had come today to help. I had been here to face down the Wicked Witch for them. I had hoped that would win me some trust or a sliver of forgiveness. Not that I cared about how Wilder felt about me. I just wanted him to allow me to continue to be a part of Sarah’s life.
Three
Oakley
Eleven Years Ago
The energy from tonight’s win had everyone buzzing. Although I understood nothing about the plays they were talking about, it was fun to listen to their excitement. Tucked in close to Wells Jones, the Bulldogs quarterback, I felt lucky. I knew every girl in this restaurant wanted to be me. But I wasn’t with Wells because he was the number one quarterback pick in the nation.
The reasons I liked him had nothing to do with football. He was fun, we laughed a lot, and my stepmother didn’t approve of his family. They weren’t God-fearing church folks. Which I doubted was the real reason.
Wells’s family was powerful here in this small town. There were four families that owned most everything. Including the place we were currently in right now. The Jones family was one of those. My stepmother was just angry I was dating him and my stepsister wasn’t. Even if she was too old to be dating a high school boy.
“I can’t believe you signed with fucking Bama, man,” Storm Kingston groaned, reaching for his drink. “You’re a Georgia boy. They wanted you. We could be playing together next year.”
Wells shrugged and tossed a fry into his mouth. “It was hard to turn down the chance to play for the most successful coach in college football history.”
Storm looked as if he disagreed. “Not yet. He needs more wins before he gets that title, and he’s not won Bama’s fourteenth national championship yet.”
Wells just grinned and ate another fry. “He will. This year.”
“Let it go,” Sebastian Shephard said from the other end of the table. “He wants to go to Alabama. Leave it be.”
Storm cut his eyes to Sebastian. “Says the guy who turned down all offers to stay home.”
“Some of us have other plans for our future. You know, our birthright,” Sebastian drawled, leaning back in his chair as Jade Davis, the head cheerleader, came and sat down on his lap.
Sebastian might not be the football star, but he owned the title as the sexy bad boy. Jade leaned down and whispered something in his ear. Sebastian winked at her, then patted her butt, causing her to giggle.
“Let’s change the topic,” Wells suggested, and I realized his body had tensed.
What had Sebastian said that bothered him? Was it the birthright comment? I knew the Shephards owned racing horses, and the Jones, Kingston, and Salazar families had something to do with racing horses too. The Shephards had one of the biggest houses in Madison that sat on a huge ranch. It was one of those built in the 1800s, Gone with the Wind–looking mansions. Which added to Sebastian’s bad boy appeal. He was a rich bad boy.
I felt like it had more to do with the whispers, the bits and pieces of when the adults gossiped. I knew from overhearing people whispers at church that their fathers did things folks in town believed were illegal, but no one wanted to say it aloud or call them out on it. I was almost positive that what I had heard about their families were all bogus.
“What about the fact that your cousin is back in town? What’s up with that?” Storm asked, looking back over his shoulder toward the entrance of The Doghouse, everyone’s go to place for food after a game.
“He’s here to see me play.” Wells glanced back, and his tension eased. “Hey! Wilder!” he called out.
It was then I turned to see this cousin I had never met. There were two guys, but only one swung his gaze toward Wells. A smile spread across his face, and I found myself mesmerized by his dark, deep-set eyes, classically straight nose, high cheekbones, and full, sculpted lips. The way his mouth softened when he smiled made my stomach feel funny. Even if he wasn’t smiling at me. He was older. There was no boyish charm that clung to him. He was tall with broad shoulders and a man’s build. The thick, corded arms that his black T-shirt strained to contain weren’t from lifting weights in a high school gym. They were from something much more intense.