Raylan walks me back to the house and all the way up to the guest room. I think heโs planning to tuck me into bed, but I say to himโ unexpectedly, and surprising him as much as meโโWill you stay
with me?โ
Raylan looks surprised, but pleased. โOf course,โ he says.
Even though itโs a Queen-sized bed, Raylan is big enough that weโre still close together on the mattress, his weight causing us to roll together in the middle of the bed. With my head resting on his chest, I can feel his heart thudding against my ear, steady and strong. Itโs an incredibly peaceful sound. As regular as ocean waves.
I feel my heart rate slowing to match his. My breathing getting deep and heavy like the air slowly rushing in and out of Raylanโs lungs.
I feel exhausted like Iโve never been before. Every muscle of my body is loose, warm, and still steeped in pleasure chemicals.
Iโve never been so satisfied. Not just sexuallyโmentally and emotionally, too. That sex stimulated my brain and my desire unlike anything Iโve experienced.
Itโs paradoxical, because I would have thought that Iโd HATE to be treated like that. I fucking hate being restrained, controlled, or bossed around. But
not by Raylan . . .
I donโt understand it.
How could everything I hate be twisted and turned to such a degree that I found it wildly arousing?
Even as Iโm drifting off to sleep, Iโm pondering that question. Trying to understand what I just experienced.
Right before I fall asleep, I see a glimmering answer, like a nugget of gold in the silt of a riverbed.
Itโs because I admire him.
Iโve never fucked a man I actually respected before. Iโm so fucking arrogant that I looked down on every man I dated. They didnโt impress me. Outside of my own family, one of the only men I truly respected was Dante. But we were just friends.
Iโve never experienced what itโs like to fully esteem a man. To want to impress him. To want to please him.
There was a kind of pleasure in being conquered. Raylan is so handsome and rugged and capable, that I felt like he deserved to have me. He deserved to have me any way he wanted.
Then, on top of that, there was a deep and potent relief in letting go . . . in letting him take charge of the sexual experience. I didnโt have to think or plan or maintain my rigid hold on the situation like I usually would. Instead, I could set my brain free. There was no governor on my thoughts or on my physical response. I was free to simply experience what was happening, with no distractions.
Then, of course, there was a third elementโhow deeply filthy and taboo it all felt. He tied me down! He whipped me! He fucked me like an animal!
I should be furious and disgusted. But instead . . . I loved it.
The perverse and rebellious part of me takes a deep pleasure in enjoying what Iโm not supposed to like. In embracing what Iโm supposed to reject.
It would only work with Raylan though, I know that. I would never respect another man enough to allow him to do that. Enough to WANT him to do it. And I would never trust anyone else like that.
Thatโs the core of why I was able to let go . . . because I do trust Raylan. However dominant and aggressive he might have seemed in the moment, deep down I knew that he would never actually hurt me. I allowed him to tie my hands because I knew that what followed would be pleasurable for both of us. I knew that even though he was pretending to use me for his own enjoyment, all the while he was watching my responses, gauging my arousal and my desire, so he could pull back from the edge of pain at just the right time, and soothe me with exactly the right kind of touch.
I trust him.
Just that thought alone hits me like a hammer.
Iโve never trusted anybody outside my own family (I include Dante in that, because he is my brother-in-law, after all).
But I trust Raylan. I really do.
If his heavy, warm arms werenโt currently wrapped around me, I think that realization might terrify me. But Iโm too calm, too drained, and too comfortable to feel any negative feelings right now.
Instead, I slip off to sleep, simply marveling that something so unexpected has happened to me.
THE NEXT MORNINGย I wake up to Raylanโs tongue between my thighs. Heโs down under the blankets, gently licking and lapping at my clit.
Iโm so flushed and warm with sleep that my pussy is incredibly sensitive. Each stroke of his tongue is utterly intoxicating.
My brain is still in that floating half-asleep state. My memories of the night before are both vivid and fantasticalโreal and dreamlike. With every touch of Raylanโs tongue, I feel like Iโm experiencing the best parts of our sexual encounter all over again.
I remember the look of his body in the lantern-lightโevery muscle bulging with exertion. His skin glowing. His bright blue eyes intense and animalistic. The glint of his teeth when he growled at me, or when he threw his head back in pleasure.
I remember how he seemed to transform into the most commanding, most powerful version of himself. The more dominant he became, the more my arousal grew. I wanted to please him. And the more I pleased him, the more pleasure I felt myself, in an endless feedback loop.
He knew exactly what I needed. His attention was fixed on me a thousand percent. Those bright blue eyes were focused and intent, and his hands seemed to have a supernatural ability to wrench a reaction out of my body.
Iโve never known anyone as perceptive as Raylan. I know I can be difficult
โstubborn, cold, contentious. Most people donโt understand me at all.
But Raylan sees through all that. Those blue eyes cut through the barriers Iโve built up. They cut through all my contradictory impulses. And he finds my real, true desires. The things I want that I would have sworn I didnโt want at all.
Like right nowโheโs eating my pussy gently and carefully, so thereโs no jolting awake. Instead Iโm recovering consciousness gradually, extending that state of dream-like bliss for as long as possible.
By the time Iโm fully awake, my pussy is throbbing with pleasure, the waves of elation radiating outward through my sleep-warmed body.
Right as I come fully awake, Raylan climbs on top of me, his cock raging hard. He slides into me easily, since Iโm soaking wet. But itโs still a tight fit, with a delicious level of friction that Iโve only ever experienced with him. As if his cock and my pussy were made for each other. As if every other partner weโd been with was the wrong sized shoe on the wrong footโ uncomfortable, and always rubbing raw.
He fills me up perfectly, his cock stimulating every single pleasure zone. The head of his cock rubs against that sensitive place deep inside of me, his girth stimulates all around my opening. And my clit grinds against his hard, flat belly with exactly the right amount of pressure.
He braces himself with bent arms on either side of my head, and he looks directly down into my face.
I look up at him, thinking how unusual it is for a man to be so handsome up close. Most people are better viewed from a distance. Thatโs why we close our eyes when we kiss.
Not Raylan. With his face only a few inches from mine, I see the clarity and brilliance of his eyes. Theyโre a vivid and electric blue, crackling with energy. His irises are encircled by a ring of deep black, the same color as his hair. That ink-black hair looks enticingly thick and soft, so much that I have to reach up and run my fingers through it, marveling how it feels like ermine, vibrant and alive, like every other part of Raylan.
I canโt stop touching him. I trail my fingers down the side of his face, where his thick, prickly stubble is already growing back. I like the way it outlines his lips and jaw, giving him a roguish, wicked look.
Then I touch his shoulders and chest, straining with the effort of holding himself up on the soft bed, and the exertion of slowly thrusting in and out of me.
He has a large tattoo on his right shoulder, shaped like a shield. Inside the shield is a kneeling knight, holding a sword. The background of the shield is a night sky, speckled with stars and a crescent moon. I know it must be from his mercenary company, The Black Knights. I bet all his brothers-in- arms have the same mark.
Iโve seen mercenary tattoos beforeโskulls, daggers, snakes, and guns, usually.
It strikes me that the Black Knights chose something quite different as their sigilโa kneeling man, in a penitent pose. Itโs not aggressive or violent. Instead it seems to indicate chivalry, and honor.
Raylan is a good man.
Heโs been good to me.
Heโs protected me. He brought me to his own home to keep me safe. I look up into his face and I DO feel safe. I feel cared for.
These are not sensations that come easily to me. Sometimes I struggle to feel that way even with my own family.
But Raylan isnโt obligated to care about me, like family is. If he likes me, if he protects me . . . itโs simply because he wants to. Itโs real and genuine.
I can feel my climax buildingโitโs been building steadily since he was eating me out, but now itโs at the very top of a very high peak. And Iโm about to go plummeting down.
And for the first time in my life, I look right in a manโs eyes while I cum. Itโs not awkward, or distracting. Instead, the eye contact amplifies the sensation a hundredfold. It takes sexual pleasure and pairs it with gratitude, admiration, and adoration. It stitches together sensation and emotion into one explosive climax. Instead of crying out, I make a sound almost like a sob.
โAre you alright?โ Raylan asks me, his blue eyes full of tenderness. โYes!โ I cry.
He nuzzles his face against the side of my neck, inhaling my scent. He lets go too, cumming inside of me with a long groan that thrills me from my head down to my toes.
When weโre finished, we lay there a long time, with Raylan still inside of me, and my arms still wrapped tight around his neck. Iโm smelling the warm, clean scent of his skin, which is endlessly enticing to me. I canโt seem to stop pressing my face against his chest, inhaling slowly and deeply.
At last we can hear the noise of breakfast below.
Raylan says, โI guess we better get up before they start shouting for us. Thatโs the downside of ranch lifeโnobody can stand to see anybody sleep in.โ
โThatโs alright,โ I say. โI hate sleeping. Itโs a waste of time.โ
But for the first time, thatโs not actually true. I had the best sleep of my life last night. Not a waste of time at all.
Raylan and I pad over to the shower.
This is something else Iโd usually avoidโcramming two full-size adults into one tiny shower. Iโve always viewed that as a ridiculous inconvenience.
But today, I want to be close to Raylan. I want to be right next to him for as long as I can. I donโt care that it takes longer to shower, or that sometimes we have to trade spots under the warm spray, and for a moment Iโm shivering until he pulls me back under again and helps me rinse out my hair.
It feels lovely, having his thick, strong fingers massaging my scalp, feeling our bodies pressed together all slippery and wet and clean.
When we get out to towel off, the foot or two of space between us seems like too much. Having fallen into this unprecedented intimacy, Iโm afraid to let us drift apart again, in case it never rematerializes.
โAre you hungry?โ Raylan asks, toweling off his thick, dark hair. โStarving,โ I admit.
I feel like I could eat an entire outrageously-sized Raylan breakfast, down to the last bite of toast.
As we thump down the creaking stairs, a cornucopia of delectable scents hit my nostrils. The Boones never disappoint when it comes to food. The table is piled high with plate-sized pancakes, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, biscuits and gravy, and bizarrely, what looks like freshly sliced papaya.
Tucker and Lawson are each attacking a stack of syrup-drenched pancakes that would stymie grown men. Or at least, grown men who arenโt Boones.
Grady and Shelby are sitting next to their sons. Grady has a black eye as dark as a ring of boot polish. He looks like heโs wearing a giant monocle.
Celia is eating poached egg on toast. She looks up as her eldest son comes into the room.
โYou were fighting, too!โ she says accusingly, spotting Raylanโs split lip.
โAh, it was nothing,โ Raylan says dismissively. โJust a little dust-up. Nobody got stabbed or shot. Sheriff Dawes was pulling in as we leftโIโm sure he cleared out anybody who hadnโt had enough already.โ
Celia looks over at Bo. โTammy Whitmore texted me and said that Duke started it.โ
Bo flushes guiltily. โNo, not really,โ she says, without confessing exactly what happened.
โI saw him dancing with Lindsey,โ Shelby says, knowing that sheโs skirting the edges of the truth.
โWas he?โ Bo says.
Bo doesnโt seem to have much appetite this morning, sticking only to a mug of coffee and a couple slices of papaya.
Iโm piling my plate high with bacon and scrambled eggs, torn between my curiosity at whether Bo is going to admit what actually happened, and my desperate need to eat a ton of food as quickly as possible.
But Bo simply pushes her chair back from the table, saying, โThatโs enough for me.โ
โYou barely ate!โ Celia protests.
She turns to me, probably expecting me to make a similar comment, but instead Iโve got both cheeks as full as a chipmunk and Iโm still shoveling in more.
Celia canโt help laughing.
โAt least weโre having a good influence on you,โ she says. โYesh,โ I mumble, mouth full and belly happy.
Raylan laughs too, loving that heโs managed to sway me over to the joys of breakfast, if nothing else. His laugh is loud and mischievous, the kind that pulls everyone else into mirth. The boys start giggling, and soon Shelby and Grady are, too.
I like this family so much.
Theyโre warm and welcoming, unpretentious and hardworking. They love animals and the outdoors.
I like them and respect them, as much for our differences as our similarities.
I donโt know why they seem to like me tooโmaybe theyโre just kind to everyone. But Iโm grateful all the same.
โWhatโs your plan today?โ Celia says to Raylan and me.
โIโve gotta run into Knoxville this morning to get some new horse stall mats,โ Raylan says to me. โYou wanna come with me, before you start working?โ
โThatโs temping,โ I say. โI do love shopping for horse stall mats . . .โ
Raylan chuckles. โI thought we could get you some toiletries and clothes,โ he says. โIโm aware that horse stall mats arenโt a big draw for you.โ
โYou donโt know what youโre missing,โ Grady says. โA nice, thick flexible mat with that fresh rubber smell . . . they oughta make that into a candle scent.โ
โAre you gonna go to the crรชperie after?โ Bo asks. โSure,โ Raylan says, easily.
โThen Iโm coming.โ
โMe too,โ Grady says.
We all pile into Raylanโs truck. Iโm starting to like the wide, comfy bench seats and the view of the dusty roads from way up in the cab. Unlike with bucket seats, thereโs nothing separating Raylan and me. It makes the drive strangely intimate, our free hands just inches apart on the seat.
Grady insists on picking the music, which is all country, and mostly all awful. That doesnโt stop him from singing along to every song, and drumming on the back of the seats. Iโd usually find this annoying, but today it just makes me laugh. Maybe itโs all the pleasure chemicals still zipping around in my blood. Or maybe itโs the huge breakfast I just ate. Whatever the cause, Iโm in a bizarrely good mood.
As we drive into Knoxville, the city strikes me as surprisingly pretty. The streets are tree-lined and shady, and the high rises are built along the banks of a river, similar to Chicago.
Itโs busier than I expected. The shops and cafes are crowded with people, and the downtown streets look prosperous. Thereโs no empty or boarded-up shops, and only one small brick building for sale.
Thereโs a pleasant air of friendlinessโpeople smiling or nodding as they pass us on the sidewalk. I donโt know if itโs a southern thing, or if Raylanโs grin just makes people want to smile back at us.
Raylan waits while I step inside a CVS to buy what I need, then we go next door to something called the CAL Ranch Store. Bo wanders off to the firearms section, while Grady and Raylan get the mats. Iโm distracted by several incubators full of eggs, in which dozens of chicks are currently hatching. The chicks look wet and bedraggled, and not nearly as cute as the fluffy yellow ones in the next box over, who have apparently been hopping around at least a day or two. Still, Iโm fascinated by the slow, painstaking process by which they break out of their shell prison.
Iโm still there when Raylan returns from hauling mats out to the truck. โYou want some chickens?โ he asks me with a grin.
โNo,โ I say. โIโm just amazed they can do this, when they look so weak and floppy.โ
โTheyโre tougher than they look.โ
He scoops one of the clean, fluffy chicks out of its glass box and places it in my hands. Iโm amazed how light it is, and how soft. I can feel its heartbeat against my thumb, ten times faster than my own. The chick nuzzles down in my palm, enjoying the warmth.
All our purchases complete, we head over to the French Market Creperie as Raylan promised. Raylan and I split a banana/Nutella/walnut crepe, and I have to admit, itโs pretty damn good. Not far off the crepes I ate in France.
We head back to the ranch, the heavy rubber horse stall mats weighing down the bed of the truck.
While Raylan and Grady are unloading, I head back into the house. I want to go back over those purchase agreements again, so I can puzzle out the discrepancy one more time.
Opening Boโs laptop, I notice the deep quiet of the kitchen, punctuated only by a few creaks from the older parts of the house, and the odd distant animal sound from outdoors.
It feels strange to be alone.
Iโm surprised how quickly Iโm getting used to the noise and bustle of the ranch, and the near-constant companionship of Raylan himself. Twice I find myself looking up from the work, about to make a comment to him, only to realize that heโs out in the stables, not in the kitchen with me.
I shake my head at my idiocy and try to lose myself in the numbers like I usually do.
I asked Lucy to send me those documents. Iโm pleased to see that she managed to find everything I needed and sent it in several emails so none of the attachments would be too large.
I download them all and start sorting the data, comparing it to my previous spreadsheet.
After a couple hours of intense comparison, Iโm finally able to slip into that state of almost hypnotic focus, where the numbers seem to flow and float through my brain, rearranging themselves into patterns that seem to occur almost outside of my control, as if Iโm watching whatโs happening instead of actively organizing it.
Numbers have always had a particular personality to me. 6 is lucky, 7 is quixotic but powerful. 9 can be tricky. 2 is useful. 5 can always be depended on. I know this is irrational, but itโs a device that allows me to
rearrange and memorize sequences of numbers as if they were people or objects, not just symbols.
Iโm looking at the computer screen, but Iโm seeing the flow of numerals in my brain. Iโm watching them twist and reform in kaleidoscopic patterns. Until at last . . . at last . . .ย I see it.
I see the irregularity.
I see it, and I understand it. I let out a long, slow breath. โMotherfucker,โ I whisper.
Josh Hale has been stealing from us. And not a little bit . . . a whole fucking lot.
When we had to purchase all that land for the South Shore Development, he duplicated some of the properties. He copied the purchase agreements almost exactlyโomitting only a single number or letter per page. That way, the documents would look identical to the naked eye, but could be sorted into separate folders in the computer system.
But where did the money go? Thatโs the question.
The numbers all add up in the spreadsheet, with the duplicate properties removed.
Which means the money we paid for the properties is gone. Siphoned off to some other account that I canโt see here.
I know itโs Josh, because the only properties with double documents are the ones signed by him and him alone.
But I donโt know where the fuck he sent the money. Weโre talking almost fifty million dollars . . .
I guess Josh figured out he wasnโt getting the partnership. And he thought he deserved to be paid.
I sit back in my chair, mind whirling.
I have to tell my family, obviously. Especially Cal. Iโm pretty sure I just discovered why Josh wants me dead. He poked his head in my office and saw me working on the purchase agreements. He must have thought I already knew about the duplicatesโor was about to find them.
But strangely, I donโt rush to call Cal.
I want to talk to Raylan. I want to explain what I think Iโve found, and see if he thinks my conclusions are sound, or if Iโve missed something.
Itโs not that I doubt myselfโI just want his opinion. Iโve come to trust him over these weeks. Sometimes he sees things that I donโt.
So I wait for Raylan to come back from fixing the mats.
He strolls into the kitchen, sweaty and a little sunburned, but looking cheerful.
โYou want some lemonade?โ he says, taking the jug out of the fridge. โNo,โ I say. โWell . . . maybe I will.โ
The lemonade looks pretty damn good.
Raylan pours us each a glass, and we drink it standing up, next to the sink.
โWhat are you about to tell me?โ he says, grinning a little. โYou look excited.โ
I explain what I found, and what I think it means.
Raylan listens, his face still except for a little line of tension between his eyebrows.
โSo?โ I say when Iโm finished. โWhat do you think?โ
โThatโs pretty quick for that Josh guy to hire a hitman,โ he says. โJust a couple hours at most from seeing the documents on your desk to the time the Djinn got in the pool . . . โ
โHe knows where I live. He probably even knows I like to swim, the nosy fucker.โ
Raylan is quiet, twisting his empty glass between his thick fingers. โWhat?โ I say.
โI dunno. It makes sense . . . if this guyโs been stealing money from your family, heโd do anything to cover it up. But somethingโs off . . . โ
I feel flustered that Raylan isnโt entirely agreeing with me. I know I asked for his opinion, but itโs unsatisfying to hear that I might not have solved it.
โWhere did you get the extra files from?โ Raylan says. โI asked Lucy to send them to me.โ
He frowns. โDid you tell her where youโre staying?โ โNo, of course not.โ
โBut you emailed her from this laptop?โ โYes,โ I say hesitantly. โDoes it matter?โ
โProbably not,โ he says, but he looks troubled. โHave you called your brother yet?โ
โNo. I wanted to talk to you first.โ โAlright. Well, call him now if you like.โ
He hands me his phone. Itโs an old one of Boโs that Raylanโs been using, since his cellphone got burned up in my apartment along with everything else.
I dial Calโs number, putting it on speaker so Raylan can hear the tinny ringing at the same time as me.
Cal picks up after only a couple of rings, sounding slightly out of breath.
โHello?โ he says, with that slightly suspicious tone he always has when he doesnโt recognize a number.
โItโs me,โ I say.
โOh, right,โ he says. โSorry, I keep forgetting to make a contact for this phoneโโ
โIt doesnโt matter,โ I interrupt. โI think I know who hired the Djinn.โ
โYou do?โ his tone is eager and tense. โHold on, Iโm putting you on speaker. Danteโs with me right now.โ
I hear Danteโs rumbling voiceโโWhat happened? What did you find out?โ I quickly summarize again.
Thereโs silence when I finish, Cal and Dante digesting what Iโve said. Then Cal says, โThat slimy little shit.โ
Calโs only met Josh once or twice, but I donโt think he liked him any more than I did. Calโs always had a particular hatred of suck-ups and brown- nosers. I think it comes from his days at that fancy private school, where other kids would try to leech on to him because of our family name.
โIf we leave now, we can probably get him at the office,โ Dante growls.
โBetter call Uncle Oran and warn him,โ I say. โIf you just show up there and grab his employee, heโs going to be startled.โ
โYeah, I will,โ Cal says.
โWeโll get the contract details out of Josh, so we can call off the hit,โ Dante assures me. โI donโt care if I have to pull out every fucking fingernail and tooth in his body.โ
โI doubt it will come to that,โ I say. โHeโs kind of a little bitch.โ
โIt wonโt take long,โ Cal says. โYou can start packing your bag to come home again.โ
My heart gives a little lurch in my chest.
I glance quickly over at Raylan, to see his expression. His face is still, but a muscle jumps at the corner of his jaw.
I had almost forgotten that Iโd be going back to Chicago once weโd figured out who the fuck was trying to kill me. As soon as Cal and Dante get Josh, theyโll be able to wring the details of the hit out of him. Then they can call back the marker. The Djinn is just a hitman for hireโhe doesnโt have any grudge against me.
The idea of being free of that shroud is certainly appealing. I want to be able to go where I like and do what I like again, without worrying about some boogeyman popping out at me.
But on the other hand . . . Iโm not entirely excited to leave the ranch. I was actually enjoying myself here.
Still, Calโs waiting to hear my response. So I lick my dry lips and say, โYeah. Iโm excited to come home. I missed you guys.โ
โIโll let you know as soon as itโs done,โ Cal says.
He hangs up without actually saying goodbye, like heโs in a movie. Aida always teases him about that. โToo busy and important to waste half a second, Mr. Alderman?โ
I donโt mind. Iโm impatient, too. And I donโt care about little formalities.
Iโm much more concerned with the strange tension between Raylan and me. It started with our disagreement over Josh. And now it seems to have expanded to fill the whole space of the kitchen.
โIโm sure Dante and Callum will handle it,โ Raylan says, as if heโs reassuring me.
โI know,โ I reply.
I donโt think thatโs what either of us is actually worried about, but itโs the easiest thing to address.
Raylan hesitates. His blue eyes search my face, as if heโs trying to read me like he usually does, but for once heโs coming up blank.
โDo you want to go back?โ he asks me.
โWell . . . I have to,โ I say. โIโve already missed so much work. And with Josh gone . . . I know it sounds stupid, because apparently heโs a treacherous asshole, but he did handle a huge workload. Somebodyโs got to pick up the slack. Not to mention itโs pretty clear whoโs getting the partnership now.โ
โCongratulations,โ Raylan says dully.
My chest feels tight. I know I should be happy. Iโm finally getting what I worked toward for years. Iโll have my name on the door and on the letterhead. Iโll be a partner, not just an employee. Iโll be equal to my uncle in my fatherโs eyes. And I can just imagine how Uncle Oran will sweep me into one of his stiff, tight hugs that smells of cigar smoke, saying in his raspy voice, โWell done, girl.โ
I want those things, as badly as Iโve ever wanted them. But I also want the look of hurt to disappear from Raylanโs eyes.
โYouโll come back with me, wonโt you?โ I ask him.
He lets out a little exhale of air. โWell . . . you wonโt exactly need a bodyguard anymore, will you? And thatโs a good thing,โ he hastens to add.
โRight,โ I say. Itโs true. Still, I feel a little dull at that realization.
Which is ridiculous. Did I think Raylan was going to follow me around everywhere for the rest of my life?
The whole point was to figure out who hired the hitman and get back to normal existence.
Thatโs done. Or, almost done.
โBesides,โ Raylan says quietly. โI donโt plan to go out on any more jobs. At least not in the foreseeable future. You probably saw my mom broke her footโitโll heal up fine, but sheโs gonna break it again if she keeps working as hard as she has been. Iโve let her and Grady and Bo run this place too long. Itโs time for me to make a choice if I want a stake in it or not. Itโs not fair for me to let them do all the work, acting like I can come back any time I want.โ
โSo . . . you want to be a rancher?โ I ask him.
โI am a rancher,โ he says. โI just did other things for a while. I donโt ever want this place chopped up and sold. This is home.โ
If Raylan would have told me that before I ever saw this place, I would have thought he was crazy. Who would want to live in Tennessee, after having traveled the world?
But Iโve seen with my own eyes how beautiful Birch Haven is. How endless in scope. Iโve seen how connected Raylan is to his family, and the animals, and the people around here. He was gone for years, and when he came home again it was like barely any time had passed. Thatโs how strong his bond is with this placeโit canโt be eroded by time or distance.
I feel the same way about Chicago, in some ways. Iโve lived there all my life. I know its sights, its sounds, its smells. But Iโm just one person out of millions in Chicago. Whereas Raylan is needed here. His family and the ranch depend on him for survival, in the long term.
โI understand,โ I tell him. โYou do?โ he says.
โYes. This is a corner of the earth you own. Thatโs different than just living somewhere.โ
He nods slowly.
And of course, thereโs the other part of it. I know from what Celia told me that Raylan left here in anger, thinking that he didnโt actually belong to this place. But that was never really true. It was always his home. And he was always meant to come back here, to heal that wound.
I think heโs finally ready to do that.
I shouldnโt say anything to prevent that from happening. I think he needs it. Badly.
I donโt know how to bring up what I know, but I donโt want to keep it secret from him, either.
โYour mom told me what happened right before you enlisted,โ I say. โShe told me about your father.โ
โWaya was my father,โ Raylan says at once.
โI know!โ I say quickly. โThatโs what I meant.โ
Raylan looks at me with a strange expression. โIโm surprised she told you,โ he says. โShe doesnโt like to talk about that. Obviously,โ he gives a short, mirthless laugh, totally unlike his usual laugh. โSince I never heard about it for eighteen years.โ
โYou do belong here,โ I say. โI just wanted you to know . . . that I understand that.โ
Raylan looks pained. His voice is tight. โDoes every family have an ugly history?โ he says.
โMine certainly does.โ You could write a thousand-page saga of the pain and bloodshed in the Griffinsโ history. Another for the Gallos, too.
I want to ask Raylan what I couldnโt ask Celia, because I didnโt want to seem intrusive, after all sheโd told me. But the lawyer in me knows that thereโs more to the story. From what she told me about Ellis, he never would have let her get away easily . . .
โYour mom told me what happened,โ I say. โBut not how she got away from Ellis Burr.โ
I donโt say โyour father,โ or even โyour biological father,โ because I know Raylan doesnโt view him that way.
Raylan lets out a long breath. โIโll tell you,โ he says. โBut not in here. Come for a walk with me.โ