“Shut up, Sloane,” Colt said, but there was affection beneath the words for his cousin. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at his sister and Emmitt’s joined hands, and Emmitt paled and quickly let go when he saw the look on Colt’s face.
Marnie almost smiled. She already knew there was no hope for Sloane and Emmitt. Emmitt played defense for the football team, but he didn’t have much of a spine outside of it. Or much of a brain, if she was being honest. Sloane had both and she was destined for someone she couldn’t walk all over, someone who could match her fire with his own.
Sloane had always accepted Marnie’s gift. Had never shared the things Marnie told her in confidence, never looked at her like she was strange or wrong or touched by something dark. They were the very best of friends, had shared secrets the way girls do—crushes and gossip and dreams whispered in the dark.
But not all secrets.
Sloane suspected about her father. It was impossible not to when it sometimes took days for Marnie to recover enough to be seen in public, when bruises bloomed like poisonous flowers across her skin. Sloane’s eyes asked unspoken questions, but Marnie had never confided the full truth. It was a shame she kept close, locked away where even friendship couldn’t reach it.
Marnie often got clear visions of the people she was closest to, and she’d had several of Sloane. She’d understood at an early age that the gift she’d been given wasn’t always meant to be shared. That altering people’s decisions could change the entire course of their lives, could send them down paths they weren’t meant to walk. The responsibility was heavy, a weight she carried alone.
And drawing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted. Her father had gotten a call once from a research center in Denver, wanting to put her through a series of tests. He’d told them no—not unless they were willing to pay, and they weren’t—and he’d beaten her for that too. For being useless. For not being able to pay her own way in the world.
But she continued to see things. Continued to keep those things to herself, locked behind her teeth and buried in the silence she’d learned to perfect.
Sometimes the loneliness of it was overwhelming. A vast and empty space inside her that nothing could fill.
She knew she could trust Sloane, and in one of those moments of loneliness, Marnie had let it slip—Sloane had already met her future husband. Sloane hadn’t been surprised by the news, had just grinned that wild grin of hers and said until he got some sense in his head, she could at least have a little fun making him suffer.
Marnie stood on the outside of the group now, observing the easy way the O’Haras and Beckett were with each other. They’d never made her feel less than they were, despite the fact that their families owned the ranches her daddy worked for. But she wasn’t like them. It couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d worn a sign.
They didn’t know what it was like to go hungry because there wasn’t enough money for food. Didn’t know what it was like to wear shoes until they fell apart because there was no money for new ones. Her daddy called her the rich kids’ trash sometimes, and mostly she didn’t feel that way when she was with them.
Mostly.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Marnie,” Sloane said, pulling her from her thoughts. “Mama said you could spend the night if you want and she’ll make pancakes in the morning. Blaze is home for a little while and he said he’d put up a new swing over the lake so we can jump in. And maybe we can go to the movies tomorrow night. That new Julia Roberts movie is playing if you want to see it, though I’d rather watch Bruce Willis blow things up. But Emmitt will have to buy our tickets because it’s rated R.”
“Do you ever shut up?” Hank asked, but his tone was fond beneath the exasperation.
“No, and this is an A–B conversation, so C you later.”
Marnie looked back and forth between the cousins and decided to jump in before they started arguing. O’Hara arguments had been known to last for weeks, grudges held and points scored in an ongoing war that somehow never damaged the love beneath it.
“I’m sure Mama won’t mind,” Marnie said. “It’ll give us a chance to study for the chemistry test too.”
Sloane’s eyes widened with theatrical drama and she put her hands on Marnie’s shoulders, shaking her gently. “When are you going to start listening to me? Live a little, woman. You’ll ace that test no problem. We’re in our prime.” She held her arms open and spun around, dark hair flying. “We’ve got the rest of our lives for all that serious stuff. It’s time to have fun.”
“Very responsible, Sloane,” Colt said, shaking his head. “Thank God you’ve got Marnie to balance you out. I can only imagine the trouble you’d be without her.”
“She’s already trouble,” Jax piped in. “She’d be a complete disaster.”
Sloane turned on her brother, eyes flashing. “Shut up, Jax. Maybe you need to remember what I saw in the barn last week and that you owe me big-time.”
The images in Sloane’s head flashed like a broadcast through Marnie’s mind—vivid and immediate and mortifying—and blood rushed to her cheeks. Jax and Colleen Walton in the barn, bodies tangled together in ways Marnie didn’t have words for. She looked away quickly, trying to shake the image from her mind.
“Sloane—” Jax warned, his voice dropping low.
“Hey,” she said, shrugging with elaborate innocence. “I’m the one who’s probably going to need therapy. I’m just saying maybe you need to be a little nicer to me.” Her grin was mischievous and completely unrepentant. As the only girl in the pack of O’Hara boys, Sloane said it was her duty to give them grief at every opportunity.
“Come on, Hank,” Levi said, slapping his cousin on the back. “Let’s go grab a pizza and a beer. I’ve got better things to do than hang out with children.”
Since Hank and Levi were the only two old enough to drink legally, it was a definite insult to the others.
“I don’t know if I’d call Colleen Walton something better to do,” Hank said, elbowing Colt in the ribs. “It’s hard to tell the difference between her and a screech owl. Ever notice how every time you bring her to the house, the horses try to run into the barn and hide?”
“Or maybe they’re trying to get a front row seat,” Colt added with a sneer. “Everybody knows you two go in there to?—”
“Colt!” Jax took a step forward, fist raised, and everyone took a step back.
