CHAPTER 11
MEADOW
Confusion washes over me when I wake up. My eyes snap open and I look around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, I have no idea where I am. The only thing I’m sure of is the delicious way my body is sore.
That is what makes everything rush back in. I got married yesterday. Now I’m in my husband’s room, in the farmhouse he wants me to make into a home, a place where I can very clearly see our future laid out in front of us. It’s a future I desperately hope comes to fruition.
It feels like so much is in the air, but the more time I spend around Rook, the more I trust him and the promises he keeps laying at my feet.
When I stretch in bed, surprised I slept so long after training myself to be an early riser since the opening of GMH, I realize Rook isn’t in bed next to me. My hand glides over his side of the bed to find that the sheets are cold which means he must have been gone for a while.
I’m willing to admit to myself, alone in this room, that I don’t like waking up alone. I should be waking up in my husband’s arms. But he’s not here in bed with me.
He probably had chores or something to do on the farm. If he did, I wish he would have woken me up and told me where he was going. I hate the way my heart sinks at being alone.
I think I’m falling too fast for this man.
Your husband.
The reminder of who Rook is to me has me climbing out of bed.
I pull one side of the curtains to the side and take in how high the sun is in the sky.
I stretch again as I move toward the bathroom.
It takes me a few minutes to start my day, especially since I didn’t bother looking for my stuff, whatever it was my girls packed for me.
On my way past, I grab one of Rook’s t-shirts from the dresser. The soft cotton slides of my skin and reaches almost to my knees. When I take a deep breath, I don’t smell any coffee brewing and I’m definitely going to need coffee to get this day started.
We’re not going on a honeymoon since it wouldn’t work for either of us to leave Storyville for any length of time right now, but we promised to spend a few days settling into the new normal of our married life. What I never told him was how giddy the thought made me.
When I open the door to Rook’s room, I freeze because of the angry shouting I hear coming from somewhere toward the front of the house. My steps are slow and cautious as I move through the rooms. It certainly doesn’t feel like mine, not yet.
But I really want it to be.
I love this house. The first time I pulled up to it for my initial meeting with Rook, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. There’s something quaint and cozy about it. It feels like a place with history and has been imbued with generations of life, of possibilities.
Now that I live here, there are things I want to change. I don’t want to erase the house’s history, but I want to make it ours. Right now, every corner of every room is being haunted by the ghosts of those who have lived within these walls throughout the years.
The voices get louder as I approach the front door. When I peek out one of the front windows, I see Rook standing at the top of the porch steps while glaring down at a man standing at the bottom. My husband’s arms are crossed across his chest and the look on his face is murderous.
I don’t even think twice when I swing the door open, my curiosity getting the better of me and silencing my better judgement. Both men freeze in place.
Rook turns toward me slowly. When he looks at me, his gaze sweeps down my body and then back up. His brown eyes heat as he takes me in, but then his jaw ticks and I’m not entirely sure if his anger is directed at me or at the man standing in front of our house.
While looking between the two men, the older man leers at me and I hate it. That’s when I notice the similarities between the two of them and my gut clenches. Without needing to be told, I know this man is Rook’s father.
When I glance down at the porch, I try to get the surge of anger threatening to choke me under control.
My hands clench at my sides and I picture myself marching down the steps.
I’d walk right up to the man who abandoned his own son and then used love like a dangling carrot, while knowing full well he was never going to give his son that love, and slap him.
Fuck, I want to punch him. I want to cause him even a fraction of the pain he’s caused my husband. He would deserve it.
“Meadow,” there’s a warning in Rook’s voice and my eyes come up and meet his. His jaw is clenched so tight that I’m more than a little concerned about his teeth being ground into dust.
I should go back inside, especially because the way his father is looking at me is making my skin crawl. But I’m not going to leave Rook out here alone.
No, we handle our issues together. It’s one of the perks of being married.
Instead of running away with my tail tucked between my legs, I step up next to Rook and square my shoulders while holding my head up high. The sigh Rook lets out is full of resignation and I have to bite my lower lip to stop myself from smiling.
Now is not the time for smiling.
As the new shape of the moment settles around us, I take a moment and study Rook’s father.
Even though the similarities between the two are obvious, the calculating look in the man’s eyes is something I’ve never seen in Rook.
His father looks at me like a piece of meat, but his eyes still dart around like he’s taking inventory of something he expects to be his.
Little does he know it’s not going to happen now.
Unless he’s here because he heard about us getting married.
He’ll just have to get over it. Because we are married and we’ll still be married in a year to satisfy the demands of the will. Hopefully, we’ll stay married long beyond that.
A girl can dream.
There’s something slimy about Rook’s father. It makes me wish I had taken the time to get properly dressed.
“And who exactly is this?” His father’s voice is oily as he asks the question.
I shiver because of the way it hits my ears, and Rook takes a step closer to me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side. The movement is so natural and easy. His father’s eyes widen as he takes us in.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” Rook snarls, the threat in his voice clear to hear.
But his father pays no mind to the warning bells that should be going off in his head right now. Instead, he makes a tsking sound and shakes his head like he’s disappointed.
“If you think you can hire some whore to pretend to be your wife and think that’ll be enough for the lawyers, you’re more of an idiot than I thought you were,” he says the words like he’s being magnanimous.
He’s not.
“You better watch your fucking mouth,” Rook seethes, “that’s my wife you’re talking about.”
The man’s mouth drops open, but then he snaps it closed a moment later. Something sinister crosses his face and I have to force my feet to stay in place even though I want to step back and put more distance between us.
“Your wife?” The disbelief in the man’s voice has me narrowing my eyes. His eyes sweep over me again and he licks his lips. “You picked a pretty whore for this scam; I’ll give you that.”
I can see the rage building in this man; his face is turning red and he starts to sweat.
His eyes turn wild as he looks around like he’s about to lose something he never truly had.
I’m afraid it’s going to make him reckless.
It’s obvious that he’s the kind of man whose recklessness would be dangerous.
His head tips back and he barks out a laugh. Rook’s body is rigid next to me, and he steps slightly in front of me as if to be a shield between me and any danger that might be coming my way.
It’s a shame that the danger would be coming from his father.
I glare at the man standing at the bottom of our porch steps while his mouth opens and closes. I hope our marriage feels like a knife twisting in his chest.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Rook’s dad spits out the words venomously. His eyes land on me and his lip curls up in disgust. “You married him?”
I don’t know where the gumption comes from, but I find myself holding up my hand and wigging my fingers. “Oh, I definitely married him,” my voice comes out smug and I don’t have it in me to tone it down.
I swear it looks like the man’s head is going to pop off his neck right here and now. Rook’s hand flexes on my hip and squeezes before he pulls me even tighter against him.
“You need to leave,” Rook’s voice is hard and doesn’t leave any room for his father to try and ignore the command.
“You’re going to regret this,” his father whines while pointing an accusatory finger between us.
“There’s no way this is ever going to hold up in court.
It’s obvious you only got married because of the will.
I’ll tear down your fake fucking marriage and then the farm will still be mine,” he threatens.
But his threats sound hollow to my ears.
“And you,” he turns his full attention toward Rook, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. “Fuck, you’re such a disappointment. You’d rather keep this stupid fucking farm and work yourself to death, just like my father did, instead of doing the smart thing and selling this godforsaken place.”
I have to bite my lip to stop myself from telling this vile waste of skin exactly what I think of him. It’s not worth it and there’s no reason to enrage him even further.
There’s no way that he’ll be able to take ownership of the farm, not now. Even if I wasn’t sure about this whole arrangement at first, and those doubts were completely founded, I’d be all in at this moment.
Because Rook needs to be protected against this man. So does the farm.
Apparently, I’ll be the one standing between him getting his greedy little paws on what was always supposed to be Rook’s. I’m more than okay with it.
“Get the fuck off my land,” Rook’s voice is still in a way that reminds me of a predator right before they lunge at their prey.
I can feel the tension rolling off my husband.
“And you better not come back. You’re no longer welcome here.
This place isn’t yours and it’ll never be yours.
You turned your back on this life a long time ago.
Go ahead and keep your back turned.” I wrap my arm around his waist, my hand sliding under his shirt and pressing flat against his skin, hoping I can give him just a little bit of strength.
“I never want to see you again,” he tells his father and my heart breaks for him.
“If you see me, you’ll turn around and go the other way.
Not that I expect to see you again.” He sneers the words, “You’ve always been really good at walking away; only showing up when you think that you can gain something from popping up.
That ends now. You won’t be showing back up here and fucking with my life. Not anymore.”
“You’re going to regret this,” his father repeats the words as if they’ll hold more weight the second time around.
They don’t.
“Go,” my husband explodes.
I don’t know what his father sees on Rook’s face, but he lets out a huff and turns back toward his sports car which looks completely out of place. We don’t look away as he folds himself inside of the car and then speeds away, the car movement’s jerky and clearly fueled by the man’s rage.
We stand there for a long time with our eyes trained on where the car was parked and then where he was standing. I keep quiet because I’m not sure what to say.
When I look up at my husband, his eyes are glassy and his body is so tense that it’s starting to concern me. Even though nothing I do will fix the hurt his father has caused, I’ll do anything within my power to shield him as much as possible.
Marrying Rook was absolutely the right thing to do. His father doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near this farm or his son and now he’ll have to crawl back into whatever hole he’s been in for years.
The sooner it happens the better.