28. Duke
TWENTY-EIGHT
DUKE
The bitter clutch of a Michigan winter in mid-February was undeniable.
Despite the angry wind, the lonely sounds of a mourning dove broke the quiet in the field.
After months of silence, I realized how much I missed the call of birds on my daily walks.
I stood still, feet firmly planted on the frozen ground, and listened.
The low angle of the late-afternoon winter sun cast long, ominous shadows onto the pristine snow.
The crunch of my boots through the snow drowned out the bird as I trudged toward the farmhouse.
In another month we’d be pruning the bushes as they emerged from their dormancy, and for the first time since overseeing the farm, I wasn’t ready.
Every day that hurtled me toward spring was one less day with the woman I loved.
The woman who still planned to leave.
Anger—at myself for being a coward and not laying my battered heart at her feet—simmered next to the chill that tore through me.
There had to be a way.
My hand brushed over the letter I had stuffed in my pocket.
My thoughts were as turbulent as the waves crashing against the shoreline, refusing to be quieted despite the chill.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, torn between my loyalty to my family and the love I held for Sylvie and the life growing inside her.
Rumors of inquiries regarding mineral rights on Sullivan land had added an ominous edge to the already tense atmosphere in our town.
My mind raced as I sorted through the implications for my family.
Months ago I had asked Joss Keller, my friend and local attorney, to look into whoever was poking around when he’d finally sent the letter.
Add to it the mysterious tire tracks that continued to show up on Sullivan land, and I was on edge.
The mere idea that someone was eyeing my land for minerals was infuriating. JP King’s reputation for ambitious business acquisitions didn’t help me shake the feeling that the Kings were behind this, stoking the flames of the feud that had divided our families for generations.
So much for temporary truces.
I knew Sylvie belonged on their side, but despite the animosity between our families, I had fallen in love with her.
My heart tightened with every thought of her, and yet I hadn’t found the courage to tell her the depth of my feelings.
To tell her how madly in love with her I was, to beg her to give up her dream and stay .
I couldn’t escape knowing that she would say yes. One ask and she’d likely give it all up. For me. But I couldn’t bear knowing I would do to her what had been done to me. So I bit back the words and let my actions speak for me.
I couldn’t fight the nagging feeling that if I could only figure out where the feud had started, why it had persisted for so long, Sylvie and I might have a fighting chance to put the feud to rest. If we could find a way to repair the relationship between our families, the fighting, sidelong glances, and murmurs through town could stop.
We could exist without the scrutiny of a town divided.
It still wasn’t easy, even with the whole town knowing Sylvie was living with me. Only a few days ago someone in town had actually stopped me and tried to set me up with her niece or something. A nice girl from a good family.
The fucking audacity .
As the sun dipped below the horizon, my resolve hardened.
I had to confront this situation head-on, not only for my family but for the woman I loved and for the son we would soon welcome into the world.
It was up to me to bridge the gap between the Sullivans and Kings, if only to secure a better future for our child.
Trouble was, I needed help.
Whispers had floated through town for years that the Bluebird Book Club was far more than an opportunity for the women in town to talk about books—they discussed, planned events, schemed .
My hand hovered over the door handle, and I hoped that was true, and I wasn’t about to crash an invite-only, no-men-allowed book club meeting.
Guess I’m about to find out.
I’d stopped by Haven Pines and begged MJ for a favor. I needed her to find any excuse for Sylvie to miss their book club. She smiled and told me not to worry. Instead, a prickle of dread danced up my spine as I entered the bookstore.
The smell of old books mingled with freshly brewed coffee. Quiet chatter floated above the bookshelves as I walked through the stacks toward the quiet conversation. A few wide eyes glanced up at me as a collective hush rippled over the women gathered in the back of Bluebird Books.
“Duke.” Aunt Tootie stepped forward, placing her coffee cup on a makeshift bar before stepping up to me.
“Aunt Tootie.” I looked past her and nodded at the group of women. “Ladies.”
I recognized nearly everyone—those with allegiance to the Kings, Sullivans, a few of my cousins. They sat together in small clusters, sunken back into cozy chairs or plush rounded ottomans. Soft lamps added a warm glow and created a cozy space for them to sit together.
I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. Asking for help was so far out of my comfort zone I didn’t even know where to begin.
“There’s a rumor going around that the Bluebirds can make the impossible happen.” I cleared my throat. “I’m in a tight spot, and I could use a miracle.”
Soft whispers rippled through the group of women, and my aunt Tootie’s eyes softened.
Bug King’s hard, assessing eyes flicked down my front and then back up again before she turned to my aunt. “Took him long enough.”
Tootie scoffed and swatted her hand in Bug’s direction. “You knock it off. He’s here now. That’s all that matters.”
My aunt smiled at me before lacing her arms through mine and patting my hand. “We had been wondering when you were going to show up.”
A few women moved to offer me a seat, and I thanked them with a terse nod and lowered myself onto a too-small ottoman. I let my elbows rest on my knees as I clasped my hands and wondered where to begin.
Bug wasn’t the only woman with her arms crossed and a skeptical look on her face as I began.
“The Kings and Sullivans have been at odds for as long as I can remember. I’ve had my hand in my fair share of pranks.
” I scoffed as a litany of childish pranks flipped through my memory.
“It’s practically a defining characteristic of this town.
” A few polite chuckles and nods spurred me to continue.
I thought of Sylvie and her quiet nature, her soft heart and kind eyes. I frowned down at my hands. “Things are different now.”
“Different?” Bug pressed.
I looked directly into her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why Sylvie?” Goddamn that woman is a hard nut to crack.
I clenched my jaw and offered her the only truth I could. “I fell in love with her. I knew I shouldn’t. Tried damn hard not to, but...” The collective sigh that floated through the room had me crossing my arms. “She’s it for me.”
My eyes flicked up to Bug, who looked down her nose and whose cool expression gave nothing away.
“We still have a long road ahead of us.” I looked around at the gathered group.
“Sylvie can’t do her job at the Sugar Bowl without whispers behind her back.
” I looked directly at Ms. Tiny, who was an egregious offender and known gossip.
“She’s pregnant, not deaf.” Ms. Tiny pursed her lips.
“And Martha.” I looked directly at Martha Kensington’s wide eyes.
“I didn’t much appreciate you trying to set me up with your niece.
I am not single. I am very much off the market.
” Martha blushed and looked away. “Now I’m not naive enough to think that my feelings for Sylvie will change an entire town’s opinion, but I could use some help spreading the word that this feud no longer involves Sylvie and me.
We’ll have no part in pranks or backhanded comments or outright lies.
” I stood to hammer home my point. “If anyone has something to say, they can say it to me. And if they know what’s good for them, they’ll keep Sylvie’s name out of their mouths, or they’ll deal with me. ”
Lark looked as though she were about to burst into tears, and I willed my eyes to move over the rest of the crowd. “Can I count on the Bluebirds?”
I looked around expectantly waiting for anyone to speak up, hoping that speaking my truth was enough to garner even the smallest shred of support from the people I knew ran this town.
“Oh shit.” My sister, Kate, shot to her feet, staring down at her phone with deep lines creasing her forehead.
Okay... not exactly the outpouring of support I was expecting from my sister.
Her panicked eyes whipped to mine. “We have to go.”
I took a step toward her. “What is it?”
“Trouble.”
“What?” Panic coursed through me as I thought about Sylvie.
Kate swiped a frustrated hand through the air. “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. But something’s going down at King Tattoo. It’s bad. Wyatt texted me that there’s a crowd—a fight or something.”
A frustrated growl tore through my throat as I turned and stomped toward the front of the bookstore.
“Wait!” Aunt Tootie called out, but I ignored her, and Kate hustled next to me, typing out a text on her phone while Lark shoved Kate’s coat into her arms and slipped on her own.
“What’s going on?” I didn’t need Kate to answer, because as soon as we exited Bluebird Books, shouts rang out from the direction of Royal’s tattoo shop.
A small crowd had gathered in a semicircle—a sure sign of a fight as a tangle of bodies in the center pushed, shoved, and shouted in each other’s faces.
I recognized my little cousin Matty in the middle of the fray. He was being held back by Wyatt as he pointed and screamed something at Royal King, who looked like he was about to explode. Spit bubbled at the corner of Matty’s mouth as he spewed obscenities in Royal’s direction.