Chapter 9

I squeezed the side of my chair, the scar on my hand stretching with the gesture. “Isn’t that a good thing, to handle your family business well?” I crossed my arms. “Having motivation is a good thing.”

“It’s not motivation,” he said. “It’s a fixation.”

I rolled my eyes. “So what?”

“One day, he’s going to take it out on you.”

Silence filled the gap between us, the things of forks and knives hitting the plates. The steak and roasted summer vegetables in front of me were getting cold. Where was Wilder? And what was so bad that he was going to take his frustration out on me?

Was his brother trying to warn me?

“Take what out on me?” I whispered.

“You don’t know.” Sawyer blinked his eyes. “What will you do when it happens? Who will protect you?” He lifted his chin. “You don’t have any family.”

My heart dropped. I sneered. “I’ll protect myself.” Like I always had, and always would.

“If that were true, you’d know better. But maybe this is your suicidal mission.” he laughed.

“Who said anything about death?”

“You.” He stood up, looking down at me. “You think I’m bad, but you have no idea who you married.”

“You’re right.”

Sawyer studied me. I knew that whatever preconceived notions I had of Wilder weren’t real. I didn’t know anything about him, and he had so many walls and was constantly trying to put more space between us, that it was impossible to get a feel for who he was inside.

Yes, I knew that what I had done was a big, bad mistake, but I was going to own it with everything I had.

They were ranchers, right? Livestock. Cattle. Or was it goats?

Sawyer caught the eye of someone in the second row of tables and instantly transformed into a charming man, shaking my hand to leave and scooting away. I sighed with relief, but only for a moment. Forrest had his eyes on me, and when I turned, Wilder was watching me too.

I held my breath. What had I agreed to, exactly?

After we ate, the coordinator came up to me, holding a clipboard. “Where’s your groom?” she asked, grinning widely. “It’s time to do the first dance.”

I scanned the area, unable to find him. I dashed across the yard frantically. Most of the people at the round tables were gawking at me. My skin heated, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t know where he was either.

Right?

I checked behind the main house, then by the storage unit, and the first barn, the one that wasn’t locked. An envelope caught my eye, unmarked, tucked under the mat inside of the entrance. It was full of twenties, more than I could count at a glance. I tucked a handful into my purse, then glimpsed around, making sure no one had seen. Bambi and I would have to figure out a meeting point off of the farm.

I texted Bambi quickly: I’ve got a present for you.

The sunset across the horizon. Someone drove a UTV, circling the cattle, but it wasn’t him.

Wilder wasn’t on the property anymore. He had gone somewhere else. He had left without me.

At the edge of the reception area, Forrest was talking to another man in a suit. They both turned to me. “Hi,” I said, my cheeks hot. “Any idea where Wilder is? We’re supposed to have the first dance—”

“Can’t even keep track of my boy on his wedding day,” Forrest said. “That’s my boy. Go on.” He pointed toward the field. “Find him. I can’t help you.”

“Mrs. Feldman?” the coordinator asked, coming up behind me. “We tried reaching his cell phone, but maybe if you called him, he might pick up for you.”

I didn’t have the nerve to admit that I didn’t have his phone number. I didn’t know how much she knew, and that embarrassed me. “I’m working on it,” I said.

At the head table, Sawyer was sitting in the middle, the rest of the chairs discarded. A woman sat across from him, her eyes wide and enraptured. His brother had to know something.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

Sawyer smirked like he was saying, I told you so, in his head.

“Working,” he said like that was the only possible explanation. His earlier warnings about Wilder’s work came rushing back. What was so important that he left his wedding reception? Was he angry now, taking out his rage during his job? Was work his only coping mechanism?

I didn’t have the answers, and I realized I might never get them. His family didn’t want to help me. His father only wanted me to screw his son, and his brother wanted to belittle me until I left of my own volition. But I had been through worse. The Feldman Farm was unknown territory, but that didn’t scare me.

And that itch, that need to know, bubbled inside of me. I had to get the upper hand, like Bambi said. I had to find out what would make Wilder Feldman leave his wedding.

What was his secret?