Page 1 of Keeping Kaitlyn

ONE

KAITLYN

BARRETT VALLEY, MONTANA 2013

Yes,I’ll marry you.

The words were out of my mouth and hanging in the space between us before I even knew what I was saying. Before I could even begin to understand what they meant for either one of us. All I knew was that Went was leaving, and he wanted to take me with him.

While Went loaded his duffle into the Land Rover and did a quick sweep to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind, I tore a few pieces of paper out of one of my notebooks and wrote goodbye letters.

In Abbey’s letter, I told her I loved her and that I was sorry for leaving without saying goodbye.

In Damien’s letter, I asked him not to blame his brother for anything that happened between us. I told him that I left with Went because I wanted to and I asked him to please take care of Two-tone for me.

In my mother’s letter, I thanked her for accepting me and for loving me, even when she didn’t have to and for pushing me to go to college, even when I didn’t see the point in it.

I didn’t leave a letter for my father.

There’s no reason to.

He’s never been interested in anything I’ve had to say. If not for the fact that it’ll ruin whatever deal he has worked up with Brock’s father, my leaving would be a relief.

“Ready?” The question comes from behind me, a moment before I feel Went’s arms slip around my waist to pull me close.

Nodding my head, I fold my mother’s letter in half and set it on the counter in front of me. “I don’t have anything except my backpack,” I remind him, turning in the circle of his arms to look up at him. “I travel light.”

Trepidation must show on my face because when I look up at him, his own falls into a frown. “Talk to me, Sunshine,” Went says, reaching up to push my hair away from my face. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

I’m worried you’re only taking me with you because you think you have to.

I’m afraid that you asked me to marry you because you want to rescue me.

I’m scared out of my mind because this is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done and I’m sure I’ll be punished for it, sooner or later.

“Nothing…” I shake my head while offering him a wobbly smile. “I’m ready if you are.”

Looking down at me, the frown on Went’s face holds like he doesn’t believe me. Like he’s just as worried and afraid about what happens after we leave here as I am. “It’s going to be okay.” Leaning down, he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. “As soon as we get to Helena, I’ll have my guy get a copy of your birth certificate so we can apply for a marriage license. As soon as we?—”

“I have it,” I tell him, suddenly remembering that my mother gave it to me yesterday morning. “My mother gave it to me,along with my social security card.” When Went’s face falls into another frown, I quickly explain. “Brock and I have an appointment at the county clerk’s office on Friday to apply for our marriage license.”

When I mention Brock, Went’s frown slips into a scowl. “Not anymore, you don’t.” Loosening his arms from around my waist, he finds my hand with his. “Come on, Sunshine—let’s get out of here.”

“Okay.” Smiling up at him, I give him a nod. “Go on out to the car—” I give his massive hand a squeeze before I let it go. “I’ll be right there.”

He hesitates for a moment like he’s afraid I’m going to make a run for it the second his back is turned. He has no reason to worry. As crazy and ill-advised as this whole thing is, I’m not going to run. I’m not going to change my mind. I’m leaving with Went and I’m going to marry him if he’ll have me. Not because I need to be rescued from my father and not because it’s the fastest, easiest way to ensure that I’ll never have to marry Brock.

I’ll marry Went because I’m in love with him and just selfish enough to take what he’s offering, if it means keeping him with me for as long as I can.

“Okay.” Bobbing his head, Went leans down to kiss me again, this one a soft press against the corner of my mouth. “I’ll be outside.”

As soon as he’s gone, I shoulder my backpack before crossing the kitchen into the living room. Stopping in front of the bookshelf next to the fireplace, I find what I’m looking for—a framed photograph.

It was taken the day before Luke died at a branding party for the Garretts. Looking at it, I feel my throat tighten. How happy the three of us looked because we didn’t know. None of us knew that less than twenty-four hours later, Luke would be dead andthe singular, steadfast link I had to the woman who gave birth to me would be gone forever.

“Luke…” I whisper his name out loud, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the rush of tears that flood my sinuses. “Am I doing the right thing?”

He doesn’t answer me.

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