62. Kaitlyn
SIXTY-TWO
Kaitlyn
I’VE BEEN OUT HERE FOR 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 shouting here 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 to Abbey or any of her descendants, 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?”
“About thirty seconds ago,” he tells me with a shrug. “You want to hear it?”
“Okay.” I give him a short half-laugh because I think this is just another one of his distractions. “Sure.”
“ Be where she is for the rest of my life ,” he says quietly, his hand turning over in mine to lace our fingers together. “That’s it. That’s all there is. Be with you—that’s the only thing I want to do. If you want to run this ranch, that’s okay with me. We’ll run it together.”
“Went…” Looking up at him, I shake my head. “You have a life in Boston. You have?—”
“I have a life with you,” he says, his tone resolute. “And nothing in Boston that can’t be moved here.”
“Your tattoo shop?” I remind him.
“Can be moved and re-opened anywhere,” he tells me. “If people wait a year and will fly to New England for a tattoo by me, they’ll fly to Montana.”
“What about the Hawthorne International? You’re the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. You can’t just?—”
“Actually, I can— I’m not sure it you know this, but this is the only place within a hundred miles that you can catch a good Wi-Fi signal,” he reminds me with a devilish smirk. “That and a private plane are pretty much all I need to play CEO. Luckily, I have both.” He tightens his fingers around mine. “Six years ago, I promised to spend the rest of my life with you and that’s a promise I intend to keep. I want to be with you, Sunshine—that’s not even a question. The real question is, is running this ranch what you really want to do?” Before I can answer him, Went shakes his head. “I’m not asking you what you should do, Sunshine. What’s best for your family or what you think is best for me, or even us. I’m asking you if it’s what you want .”
“I don’t have a choice.” Throat suddenly tight, I swallow hard against the ache of it. “I can’t let Brock win. I just can’t.”
“What if you did?” he asks, looking down at me with a faint smile. “What if you could beat Brock and still live the life you wanted? Where would it be?”
“In Boston,” I tell him without hesitation. “With you.”
“Okay…” Smiling down at me, Went lowers his mouth to mine, giving me a brief, soft kiss. “Then we should probably get inside—we’ve got some work to do.”