I laughed. “Y’all are too old for bedtime stories.”
Free sniffled. “It’s been a terrible day. I want the story. Please?”
Pity made me forget to feel sorry for myself, and so I told them the same story I used to tell them every night when they were much littler. “A long time ago, a witch was paid off by a jealous wife to put a curse on Jane Austen’s ghost…”
I looked over at the cell and wondered how much longer we’d all have to live here. At least Mama and Daddy get to sleep in the chapel where I’m certain holy ghosts reside, not cursed ones.
I told my siblings to go to sleep and kissed them each good night.
This entry wasn’t the best choice. It’s probably the hardest one for me to get through emotionally. Remembering that night and how burdened I felt…
“Sounds like the killing of innocence.”
Logan’s voice surprises me, and I jump.
I jerk my head up to look at him, and he touches my bare knee gently. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to read this one.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.” I turn back to the diary.
I closed the door tightly, secured the booby trap of a hanging pail that only our family knew about, and went back to check on my parents. Mama was sitting in a booth, her permed hair limp and disheveled, and overall looking forlorn. I felt guilty walking away.
But I’d already missed tonight’s Pep Rally and Homecoming Dance, thanks to being the only bartender my father can afford to keep because I’m the only one who will work for free. I’m also underage, but that’s been overlooked in this town for years, so what’s one more year till I turn eighteen?
I was dressed for the dance and that made me feel okay for being a bit selfish, so I slipped out the door without Mama seeing me and walked through the fields behind the bar until I reached the Wild Ranch house. I stopped outside Logan’s bedroom window.
He came out after just one stone hit the pane.
Logan breaks into laughter. “Can’t believe you never shattered the glass. Your stones weren’t dainty pebbles.”
I smile. “Hey, there was no such thing around your yard.”
I looked at his shaggy hair underneath his Spurs hat, his Howdy t-shirt and his ripped jeans, and I smiled at him wearily. He pulled on his cowboy boots and followed me away from the house.
“How’d the wall-building effort go?” I asked him.
“It’s done.” He shrugged. “Mama got her separate nighttime quarters like she read about in those Regency romance novels. Daddy asked the contractor to saw their bed in half, too, but he refused. So Mama got the king, and Daddy has Reid’s old twin bed.” He rubbed his head. “Shit. My father’s not even drinking anymore, and they still hate each other.”
I touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. Then, he looked at my outfit. “Who are you trying to impress? Did you have a date for tonight?”
I shook my head. “No, but I thought I’d be able to go to Homecoming, just for fun. Like a normal seventeen-year-old girl. I forget my life isn’t close to normal.”
“How long do you think y’all will have to live there this time?”
“I don’t know. Daddy defaulted on the mortgage again. He still swears he’ll get the house back, but you know, he just got out of rehab and now we lost our liquor license.”
“Rehab,” Logan said flatly.
“Yeah, he was doing a shot with some blond bimbo before the police came and shut us down, so rehab looks like a smashing success from where I’m standing.”
Logan took my hand and led me to his truck. “Let’s go to the creek.”
Once we got there, we stood side by side, staring out at the water with even the ducks sleeping at our feet, and I turned to Logan. “Do you think we’ll be the last two virgins in Darcy?”
Logan looked at me, startled. “Do you want to lose it?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
