Page 100 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Eyes wide like I just slapped her in the face, Abbey shakes her head. “Kaity?—”

I give her a short, rough shake while I listen to my mother drag her ceramic cookie jar shaped like a carousel across the counter and tell Thomas he can have one cookie before supper and if he eats his green beans, he can have two after. “When?”Knowing her son is in the next room is the only thing that keeps me from completely losing my shit. “How long?—”

“Thomas is five.” Understanding what I’m asking her, Abbey answers me calmly. “He was born nine and a half months after the wedding.”

Six years.

Abbey married Brock as soon as I left.

“Why?” Raising my tone, I give her another shake. “Why would you do something so stupid? Did Dad?—”

“Girls.” Mom appears in the kitchen doorway, a large bowl of green beans tucked against her hip and a wide-eyed Thomas peeking out from behind her skirts. “You know how impatient your father can be. You best get in there and get this over with.” Leading Thomas to the open front door, she leans in to kiss my cheek. “We’re having meatloaf for supper. Hope I made enough for your fella,” she says before she pushes her way through the screen door and lets it bang closed.

“Mom’s right. Let’s get this over with.” Giving me an apologetic smile, Abbey takes me by the hand and leads me down the hall to the room our father uses to run the ranch. When we get there, he’s sitting behind his desk, in a chair he used to dwarf, watching the doorway with flinty blue eyes. When he sees us, he lets his glare dig into me before it drifts over to Abbey where it softens considerably.

“Sit down,” he says gruffly, motioning to a pair of chairs on our side of his desk. As soon as we’re seated, he lifts a thick packet of papers from his desktop and flings it at me. “I need you to sign these. After that, you and him can go back to where you came from. No need to stay for supper.”

Lifting the packet of papers off the desk, I set it on my lap. They look important. Official. “I don’t understand…” Shaking my head, I aim my confusion at Abbey but she’s no help. Sitting in the chair next to me, hands folded quietly in her lap, flat blueeyes stuck to them like glue, she all but ignores me. Because I don’t have a choice, I look at my father. “What is this?”

“Just sign the papers, Kaitlyn so we can be done with each other, once and for all,” my father tells me, his tone hard and angry, his glare trained on something just over my shoulder.

“No.” Tossing them back at him, I shake my head. The last time we sat across from each other, he told me that I was to marry Brock as soon as he got home from his trip to Texas to see his cousin. He made me believe I didn’t have a choice. That what I wanted didn’t matter. I don’t believe him anymore. “I’m not signing a goddamn thing until you tell me what’s going on.”

Glaring at me from across the desk, a muscle twitches in his gaunt cheek. “The ranch is held in a trust—has been for nearly a hundred years. It can’t be bought and it can’t be sold. It can only be passed down from generation to generation and the stipulations on who it can be passed down to are very specific.” The corner of his mouth curls slightly. “The eldest Barrett child, at the age of 25, takes over the ranch and becomes it’s steward until the next generation is ready.” The curl of his mouth hardens with disgust. “Since you killed my son, that puts you next in line.”

“Daddy, you promised you wouldn’t be cruel,” Abbey says, her tone barely above a whisper.

“I promised I wouldn’t be cruel,” our father says, a tendon ticking in his jaw. “I never promised I wouldn’t tell the truth.”

Don’t believe him, Kaity. We talked about this—you know I never blamed you. What happened wasn’t your fault.

When I hear my brother’s voice in my head, I feel my heart flutter and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying.

“The ranch is mine?” I look at Abbey. She’s still not looking at me. “It’sbeenmine for an entire year?” When I say it, my father gives me a look of sick satisfaction like he knew all along thatthis was my plan—to take the ranch from Luke, to kill him for it, even though I never even knew such a thing was possible. “You told Brock about the trust. That I was going to inherit the ranch when I turned twenty-five. That’s why he was suddenly so eager to marry me.”

“Those papers relinquish your claim to the ranch and allow me to amend the trust so that Abbey can take over stewardship when she turns twenty-five,” he says instead of answering my questions. “Sign them.”

Looking at Abbey again, I shake my head. “Isthiswhy you married him? So you could take over the ranch?”

“No.” Finally looking at me, Abbey shakes her head, seemingly mortified by my accusation. “No.I?—”

“This is still my house and I won’t be defied in it,”my father bellows, pushing himself out of his chair. “Now sign the damn papers and get the hell off my ranch.”

Standing slowly, I stare him down with a slow shake of my head. “The way I understand it, this ranch ismine—and I’m not signing a fucking thing.” Picking up the packet of papers, I look down at Abbey. “I would’ve given it to you, Abs. All you had to do was ask.”

I walk out the door before either one of them can stop me. Crossing the hall into the living room, I find the archway that leads to the mudroom and get the back door open before Abbey catches up to me.

“Kaity, wait!” she calls out behind me. “Please, just let me?—”

Whirling on her, I jab an angry finger at the house. “There’s no explanation for that,” I hiss at her. “Why would you do that, Abbey? Why would you marry him? It can’t be about the ranch and I know you didn’t marry him for love.” As much as I want to believe it, I’m not surewhatI believe anymore because I left and the woman standing in front of me is a stranger.

“It’s complicated, Kaity.” Staring at me, Abbey shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I didn’t have a choice.”

Suddenly dizzy with guilt, I feel the ground tilt under me. “Did Dad make you—” Even as I say it, I know that’s not what happened. Our father loves Abbey with his whole heart. He would never make her do something she didn’t want to and she confirms it with a fast head shake.

“No, that’s not what...” Still shaking her head, she throws a nervous look at the house. Looking back at me, her gaze slides past me to our mother’s ancient Landcruiser behind me. Moving toward the car, she opens the passenger side door and gets in before giving me an expectant look.

Get in.

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