Thorn's Redemption (Fated Lives Series Book 3)
Page 20
“I told her that was just it. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I needed to figure it out before I settled down into a life I would regret.”
I look back up to see Ethan watching me from the corner of his eye. “I finished dressing as she kept trying to convince me to stay. She knew I’d spoken to a recruiter and had been talking about it for days. I tugged my cowgirl boots on and worked on pulling the hundreds of bobby pins out of my hair. She couldn’t believe I was really walking out. A runaway bride. I grabbed the suitcase that I had packed for my honeymoon to nowhere and my purse. I asked her to help me. When she didn’t answer, I told her I was leaving one way or another and marched to the back door of the church. I was terrified when I peeked out the door to make sure no one would see me. I ran to Lizzy that was parked underneath the shade of some trees.
“I was so afraid I’d get caught because Ellie was running behind me screaming my name ,begging me not to leave. I yanked the Chevy door open, and the last thing I said to her was to tell Boone I was sorry. When I drove off, I saw her in my rearview mirror, waving frantically and tears streaming down her face. When I got to the end of the dirt road, I hesitated only for a second. I clearly remember whispering the words, goodbye dirt road. I never slowed down again.”
He’s quiet for a moment as if he’s mulling around what I’ve told him. “Does Boone still work for your dad?”
“Yeah. I’ve been reading in the racehorse magazines that the horse he’s been training for the past three years is winning at all the tracks. Sounds like he’s got a good chance at the Kentucky Derby this year.”
“Wow. Has your dad ever had a winning horse before?”
“Back in 2009, he had a horse that won. The racehorse he has now, Whiskey River, is from the same bloodline.”
“Where do they come up with horse names. I mean, some of them sound like royalty.” The truck bounces over a pothole.
I grab onto to the rough dash. “Some of them are considered royalty and treated as such.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing what your life was like growing up on a ranch.”
“I didn’t appreciate it enough.”
“Do you regret leaving?”
“I don’t regret going into the army and all the experiences I’ve had. What I do regret is leaving the way I did. I hurt my family and Boone. If they’ll let me, I want to make it up to them, but my dad isn’t the most forgiving person in the world. He’s perfected holding a grudge to high levels.”
“And what about the man you left at the altar? Do you want to make things up to him too?”
“There’s no way I ever can. He’s moved on with his life and so have I.”
We stopped at a small hotel for the night and ate at a rowdy steak house. We got up early, bought our coffee, and hit the road.
With two more hours to go, we start getting into farmland. Broken wooden fences on one side of the narrow road, barbed wire on the other. Clumps of dandelions and foxtail border the bluegrass fields between the road and the fencing. Harvested round hay bales are sitting in a crop stubble. Cows graze near an old rotting barn structure forgotten in a field. The sky always seems bluer here and filled with birds flying overhead. A hawk is perched on a wooden fence post, waiting to find a field mouse for its supper.
We pass a farmer wearing overalls, who’s pushing a wheel barrel and chewing on a stalk of sweet grass. Off in the distance, there’s a tractor throwing up a plume of dust in its wake.
“Are you getting nervous?” Ethan has his arm out the window, making waving motions with his hand.
“A little, but I’m bound and determined not to let Daddy keep me away from my family any longer.”
“Good for you. I’ll be by your side unless he has a shotgun, then you’re on your own.” He laughs.
“Oh, my father has a multitude of guns.”
His eyes get round as saucers. “He’s not going to shoot you is he?”
“I don’t think he’ll go to that extreme, but you might want to wear a bulletproof vest,” I tease him.
“Ha-ha, not funny.”
Gravel crackles under my tires as I turn onto a long, winding drive and stop by the green street sign.
“Whiskey River Road,” Ethan reads and then shoulders the door open to get out. “That’s where the horse’s name came from.”
I step onto the gravel and drag my sunglasses to the top of my nose and look down the road that leads to my family. The fragrance of the lavender flocks smells like home, and I can taste the pollen filtering through the dry air. The road turns to red clay dirt about a quarter mile down. I recognize the familiar tracks in the gravel from a horse trailer being hauled by an oversized truck.
Ethan’s army boots scuff in the rocks. “Take my picture under the street sign.” He points to it and smiles.
I take my phone out of the side panel in the door of the truck and snap his picture.
“You’re almost home.” He climbs back in the passenger seat.
I put Lizzy in gear and slowly head down the uneven road. Ethan fiddles with the radio and stops when he hears the song “Sweet Home Alabama.”
“Wrong state, but it’ll still work.” He turns up the volume.
I laugh and join him in singing it. The potholes along the dirt road jar my teeth and seriously mess with my rendition of the song, but I refuse to let it ruin the moment. I need to keep the good mood I’m in to be able to face my family, more specifically, Daddy.
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