“It will take weeks of care if it’s as bad as I suspect. When does he get here?”
“Day after tomorrow,” Candice supplies. “Nathan’s going to go pick him up.”
“That a sure thing now?” I ask. Nathan Booth is a famous rodeo rider and a notorious playboy. I don’t want to see Candice hurt, and their relationship is fairly new.
“Definitely sure.” A radiant smile breaks across her face, almost putting Winnie’s to shame. “Nathan is here for good. With me and with the horses.”
Beau gives his sister a soft look, and I can tell that he fully supports his best friend and his sister getting together.
“Good,” I say. “You deserve someone who treats you well. Let me know what time Nathan and the horse arrive and I’ll come right over. I’d like to start treatment as soon as possible.”
5
WINNIE
I sipmy morning coffee and stare at the blank screen on my phone. I’ve been sitting like this for at least ten minutes, waiting for the caffeine to hit, and with it, the courage to unlock my phone and google myself.
I’ve been checked out of the world as Winnie Grant for over a week now, and I probably need to see what’s being said about me. I can’t seem to get my thumbs to move though. It’s so much easier pretending that I’m someone else—someone who can disappear entirely without anyone noticing.
The kitchen door bangs open, startling me from my thoughts, and Candice appears, flakes of snow dusting her face and sweatshirt.
“Hey,” she says. “Glad to see you out of bed.”
“You know us pageant queens, we need our beauty sleep,” I quip, not mentioning that I’m used to waking up at 6:00 a.m. every morning to indulge in a few hours of alone time without my parents around. Although, I guess I don’t have to do that anymore. I have all the space I could ever want now.
“What are you up to?” Candice pours herself a cup of coffee and then sits down next to me.
“Trying to work up the nerve to google myself.” I wave my phone at her.
“Want me to do it?”
“You mean you haven’t already?”
“Nope,” Candice says. “I’m following your lead here, Win. If you want to hide out here forever, change your name, and never resurface, I’ll help you do that.”
“Thanks, sugar.” I set my coffee down and force myself to eat a bite of the oatmeal I made half an hour ago. Maybe having something in my stomach will make this easier.
Nope. Cold, gelatinous oatmeal is not helping one bit. I swallow it reluctantly, shuddering a bit, and then unlock my burner phone, open the web browser and type in my name.
I’m immediately hit by a wave of news stories.
Miss Alabama Goes Missing
Famed Influencer Winnie Grant Quits in Shocking Post
“Bring Our Baby Home,” Plead Winnie Grant’s Parents
“Oh God, I’m going to be sick,” I say.
I toss Candice the phone like it’s a hot potato. She snatches it and starts to scroll, her face an impassive mask.
“How bad is it?” I ask after a minute.
“Bad,” she says, never one to mince words. “Here.” She slides the phone over to me. “It’s your parents. They’re asking for any and all information about you to be sent to them, and they set up a hotline. They’re saying that you’re a missing person, despite the fact that the police have not, and they’re using your mom’s accounts to blast it everywhere they can.”
Instead of glancing at the phone, I use the button on the side to shut it off. Just hearing that my parents are looking for me has my gut churning. I knew that they would do this—Iknewthat there was no way they’d let me leave quietly, no matter what I said to them.
“I sent them an email,” I say quietly.
