Page 107 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Con: As far as landmines go, there aren’t many but the few I found are doozies. If Kaitlyn signs this, she’s essentially cutting herself out of the family. None of her children, her children’s children or any of her descendants will be eligible to assume stewardship of the ranch. It will essentially kill her, in the legal sense, wiping her from existence as far as the Barrett family line goes.

It'll essentially kill her, in the legal sense, wiping her from existence as far as the Barrett family line goes.

Me: What if something happens to her sister or her sister’s descendants? Who inherits the ranch then?

Con: Stewardship passes to a family that goes by the name Morris.

The fuck it will.

Me: Okay. Thanks. I might need your help later—you good with that?

Con: Sweetheart, for $800 an hour, I’m good with just about anything.

SIXTY-TWO

KAITLYN

I’ve been out herefor awhile. So long my bare legs are numb from the cold. Even in mid-July, mornings in northwestern Montana are chilly. Even though I should probably go inside, I don’t want to. Not yet because I’ll have to wake Went up and tell him I made a decision and I want to put it off as long as possible, so when I feel him coming toward me, his footsteps vibrating across the dock, mingling with the fast click of Mooks nails against sun-beaten boards, I’m not ready.

“Good morning,” he says softly, lowering himself to sit behind me while Mook flops himself down beside us with a quiet groan. Pulling me into the space between his legs, my back leaning against his broad, muscular chest, I’m immediately surrounded by one of the blankets my mother stores in a chest behind the couch. It smells like cedar and the scent of it knocks a memory loose. Luke dragging Abbey through the house on a blanket that smelled just like this, the soft fabric of it sliding across the polished hardwood floors, pretending it was her carriage while shoutinghere comes Princess Abbey. Everyone wave at Princess Abbey.

Swallowing hard against the lump the memory forms in my throat, I lean back, resting my head against his shoulder. “Good morning.” Tilting my chin up, I press my mouth against the underside of his jaw, his stubble tickling against my lips. “I stole your sweatshirt.”

“That’s okay…” He slips his hand beneath the thick fabric of it, his fingers sliding across my stomach. “I’ll get it back later.” Pulling me closer, he makes sure my legs are covered by the blanket we’re sharing. “What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking…” Looking out across the water, I sigh. “Talking to Luke.”

Went makes a sound in the back of his throat while he nods, not at all disturbed or confused when I tell him I’ve been out here, talking to my dead brother. “I did something last night that I probably should’ve talked to you about first,” he tells me.

“Okay…” Angling my head on his shoulder, I look up at him with a puzzled frown. “Are you going to make me guess?”

“No.” Giving me a smartass smirk, he shakes his head on a laugh. “I sent Con a copy of those papers your dad is trying to make you sign. I wanted him to look them over before?—”

“And?” I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That I’ve made my decision, either way but I want to know.

“According to Conner, signing those papers essentially removes you and your descendants from the Barrett family line,” he tells me quietly. “It would be as if you never existed.”

Dead.

That’s what he means.

He means I’d be dead.

My father would finally get his wish.

“And?” There’s more. I can hear it in his tone.

“And…” Looking down at me, Went watches me carefully like he’s waiting for me to crack up. “If something were to happen toAbbey or any ofherdescendants, stewardship would transfer to the Morris family line.”

When he says it, I laugh. That’s how ridiculous it is. “Is that all?”

“Seriously?” His tone tells me the crack up he was waiting for is finally here. “Because that seems like a fuckin’ lot to me.”

“It’s really not, considering I’m not signing,” I tell him, unable to put off the inevitable any longer. When he doesn’t say anything, I sit up and turn around to face him. “I know we just found each other again and I know…” Reaching for his hand, I nudge the ring I put there six years ago before looking up at him. “I know I said I love you and I do.” Squeezing my fingers around his, I shake my head. “I love you so much it hurts but I can’t sign this place over—not to Brock. This is where Luke is buried, and if I don’t sign then that means I have to be here, running the?—”

“I started a bucket list,” he says, interrupting me out of nowhere.

“What?” Confused, I frown up at him. “When?”

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