Chapter Thirteen

Bree

“You're kidding me,” I say, as disbelief flows through me.

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Nope,” she says. “He wants to see you. I think he wants to apologize.”

“What a joke.”

“That's kinda what I thought.”

We're walking through the aisle of a bookstore, enjoying a casual afternoon together. Owen is with Matilda, doing his lessons, so when Elizabeth called me, I used the opportunity to slip out. Since father and Clyde were out of the house at a meeting, I didn't have to deal with their disapproving glares and disparaging comments. So, this is a welcome reprieve.

“He can't just apologize and expect that everything is going to be okay,” I say. “If that's what he thinks, he can go screw himself.”

“I told him that too.”

Although I'm putting on a brave face for Elizabeth, inside, my mind is swirling with thought and emotion. Knowing that Milo is back in town is like a punch to the gut. But then running into him on the street had been ten times worse. It felt like all the air was somehow sucked out of my body, my heart encased in ice, and a live electrical wire touched to my body, all at the same time.

I can't deny that there is still a feeling of electricity between us. There is something about him that I still find compelling. Despite everything that happened – and is still happening – I'm powerfully attracted to the man. That was made perfectly clear when we ran into each other again after all these years.

But, this isn't about me anymore. This is about Owen. I have to protect my baby at all costs. Given the fact that Milo is a Sheridan, if he finds out that Owen is his son, I have absolutely no doubt that he would stop at nothing to take him from me. And I cannot let that happen. I won't.

“I can't believe he has the nerve,” I say. “After what he did, he thinks he can just waltz back into town –”

“To be fair,” Elizabeth says, “he is in town for his little brother's funeral. If it wasn’t for that, I don’t know if he would even be here.”

I let out a long breath and run my fingertips over the spines of books as we pass. I'm not really looking for anything in particular, but I know my brother – who sometimes follows me around and watches me like he’s the goddamn chastity police – would never be caught dead in a bookstore, so it seems to be a safe place to meet.

“Yeah, I'm sure you're right about that,” I admit.

“Which means he'll be gone in only a couple of days.”

“Yeah.”

We make our way over to the coffee house that's located downstairs, order our drinks, and take a seat at a table in the far corner – well away from everyone else. I take a sip of my drink, my mind still awash with a myriad of emotions.

Everything seems so complicated and uncertain. I hate the man for what he did to me, and yet, there's still part of me that desires him. That craves him. That night in the gazebo is one that I've never been able to forget. And perhaps even more troubling, it's a night I haven't wanted to forget.

Elizabeth is eyeing me over her drink as she takes a sip. I can tell by the way she's looking at me that something is on her mind. She wants to say something. I can also tell that she's unsure of how I'm going to react and is doing her best to tread lightly. She's never been able to conceal her emotions. Elizabeth is a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, unafraid to speak her mind.

I admire that and wish I could emulate her. Once upon a time, I was a lot like her. I was fiercer in giving – and following – my beliefs and opinions. Ever since I got pregnant, and my family started treating me more like a blight than a person, I’ve allowed myself to be beaten down. Beaten into submission.

These days, I resemble a doormat more than a human being and I hate myself for it.

I give her a small smile. “What is it?

“I've just been doing some thinking.”

“I can tell,” I say. “What is you're thinking about?”

“Just that Milo showing up again isn't necessarily the worst thing ever.”

My laughter is dry and brittle, and I look at her, eyes wide with astonishment. “How do you figure?”

She shrugs, but I can see the wheels in her head moving. She's always been sharp. Resourceful. And I can tell that she's got a plan.

“I think you can use him to your advantage, Bree,” she says.

“Use him to my advantage?”

She nods. “Absolutely,” she says. “You're dying to get out of this town, but you have to do on the downlow, right?”

I nod. “Yeah...”

“To get out of town and get you and Owen set up somewhere else, you need money,” she says. “Right?”

A cold finger of dread trails its way up my spine as I can see where this train of thought is heading – and I am not liking the destination I see over the horizon.

“You can't exactly go and ask your folks for it,” Elizabeth continues. “But you do need the cash to just up and disappear one day.”

“And you think I can get it out of Milo.”

She nods. “I really do.”

“Which would mean I'd have to see him again.”

She takes a sip of her drink and sets her mug back down. “Yeah, but not for long,” she says. “You meet up, let him apologize so he can feel better about being a miserable piece of shit, and then tell him you need money.”

“Yeah, I don't see that happening,” I say. “For a lot of reasons.”

“The key to the plan,” she continues, as if she didn't hear me, “is that you need to really stress how much your life has sucked. Tell him that you're a prisoner in your own home, and that the damage he did to your reputation essentially ended your social life here in town. Let him know that you've been suffering because of his actions. I guarantee you that he'll hand you a blank check after hearing that.”

A nervous giggle bubbles up in my throat. “So, you think I should manipulate him into giving me money?” I ask. “That's basically extortion.”

She shrugs. “That's such an ugly word,” she says. “It's simply using the facts to your advantage. Just remember, sometimes you have to do something a little bad to achieve a far greater good. This is one of those times.”

“Damn,” I say and laugh. “You really are going to go far in D.C.”

“You have to play the cards you're dealt,” she says. “And in your case, you were dealt a really shitty hand.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“But, the point remains,” she says. “Is anything I said untrue?”

“Well, no, but –”

“You won't be lying or distorting anything, babe,” she says. “Have you not suffered because of what that prick did?”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“Then, what's the problem?”

I let out a long breath and take a drink, trying to give myself a second to compose my thoughts. She's right. I wouldn't be lying. My life has absolutely been shit since he got me pregnant. That much is true. I just don't feel comfortable exploiting that for monetary gain. I really do feel like I'd be extorting him.

On the other hand, I do need a substantial sum of money to get myself out of here and set up somewhere else. I just don't know that using Milo, and exploiting my situation, is the correct way to go about it. I don't know if I can feel like a good person if I do that.

“I just don't know if that’s the right thing to do, Elizabeth,” I say. “I mean, it feels – wrong.”

She waves me off. “What your family has done to you is wrong, babe,” she says. “You trying to take care of yourself and your little boy? Nothing wrong about that. If anything, consider the money he gives you as owed child support.”

“He can't know about Owen,” I say, my eyes wide.

“Relax, he doesn't have to,” she replies. “Leave Owen out of the conversation entirely. Just tell Milo you need to escape from this town and disappear.”

Would taking his money make me as much of a creep as he is? Maybe. Would the money help me get out of this hellhole and start a better life somewhere else? Absolutely.

“There's one problem with your plan though,” I say.

“Yeah? What's that?”

“Last I heard, he's on the outs with his family,” I say. “They're still pissed that he enlisted and left them behind. I don't see him getting anything from them.”

She grins, a devious little laugh passing her lips. “He doesn't need them,” she says. “After he showed up in my dad's office, I did a little digging on Mr. Milo Sheridan.”

Elizabeth looks at me, a mischievous smile upon her lips and twinkle in her eye. She must have found something good. Something juicy. And like any good storyteller, she's dragging out the ending, waiting for me to ask. We stare at one another for a long moment before I realize that she's not going to offer up the information, so I give in, laughing.

“And?” I finally ask. “What did you find?”

She takes a drink and sets the cup back down. “Only that he's loaded,” she says. “And when I say loaded, I mean loaded. The money you need from him is probably spare change to the guy.”

“How?” I ask. “I thought his family cut him off –”

“Has nothing to do with his family,” she says. “After being discharged from the Marines, he started his own company out in Southern California. Some private security company or something.”

“Security?” I ask. “Like bouncers or something?”

She shakes her head. “No, they're more like a private army for hire. Mostly ex-military guys. A-list celebrities and the like hire them,” she says. “But his company has also secured hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars in government contracts. His company is escorting and protecting politicians and diplomats all over the world.”

I whistle low, impressed by what he has managed to accomplish, despite my best efforts not to be. It seems like Milo has done very well for himself since leaving Folson Forge. It's something I envy, to be honest.

“So, see?” Elizabeth says. “What you are going to ask him for is a pittance.”

A small grin touches my lips. “And how much am I going to ask him for?”

“A hundred grand,” she says as casually as if she were commenting on the weather.

I almost spit out a mouthful of coffee, my eyes wide. “Are you kidding me?”

“It'd set you up really nicely, wouldn't it?”

“I can't ask for that much,” I say, as a bolt of nervous energy races through me.

“Sure, you can,” she says and smiles. “And he's going to give you every last cent of it.”

“He won't.”

“If there's one thing I know about Milo Sheridan, it's that he is a proud man,” she says. “And when you tell him your tale of woe, it is going to hurt him. It's going to make him feel like a real asshole – which he should, by the way – but, it's also going to make him feel incredibly guilty. Oh, I’m sure that he'll give you the money. No doubt in my mind about that.”

I shake my head, my mind racing with an overwhelming amount of conflicting thoughts and emotions. It's so crowded in my head that it's actually starting to hurt. I don't think I can do it. I really don't. Elizabeth checks her watch and tuts.

“I have to go, babe. I have a meeting to get to,” she says. “Don’t worry, I’m going to set it up with Milo. I'll text you with the details.”

“Elizabeth, I –”

She leans down and gives me a tight hug. “It's going to be okay,” she says. “I promise.”

I lean back in my seat and look at her. “I don't know if I can do it, Elizabeth.”

“You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for,” she says. “That little firebrand you used to be is still inside of you. I know she is. She's just buried under a deep layer of shit. Once you get out of here, I know she can break free again. And I, for one, can't wait to see it happen.”

I smile at her and feel the first sparks of hope I've felt in over seven years blossom in my chest. For the first time, I can picture a future for Owen and me, far away from Folson Forge. Far away from the judgment of the townspeople and the scorn from my family. I think about Owen getting to grow up as a normal boy who can leave the house, go to school, and have friends. Who does normal little boy things.

I know that is something he will never have so long as we stay here. If we stay in Folson Forge, all Owen will ever know is life under the thumb of the Longstreet family. And that's a life that will be anything but normal. Eventually, they'll twist and corrupt him to the point that he resembles Clyde rather than the sweet little boy I know him to be.

“This is your golden ticket out of here. This is your chance to seize a better life for you and Owen,” Elizabeth says softly but earnestly. “Don't take your eye off the prize here.”

“I love you, Elizabeth,” I say. “You know that, right?”

“I love you too, babe,” she says. “And I'm going to see to it that you have a better life. The life you deserve.”

I watch as she turns and walks out of the coffee house. Can I really do something a little bad in order to achieve a far greater good? This question is one of many bouncing around my head like a damn ping-pong ball.

And for the first time, as I watch Elizabeth step out into the sunshine of the afternoon, I believe I can.

If not for my own sake, for Owen’s.