I deserve a damn reward, and that reward is Whitney Gable.

And if I can’t get her on my own terms? Then what?

It’s no longer a case of being able to buy and sell the Gables. They’ve faltered as we’ve risen.

We own them.

We own damn near everyone. Eighty percent of the residents of Gable work for the Riscoff family, whether it’s in timber, railroad, the mill, the bank, or other business holdings. We built the hospitals, the schools, the parks, the new bus terminal, the community center, and the regional airport. We loan money to businesses to keep the local economy growing, and sponsor art exhibits to expose the residents to culture.

This city may not bear our name, yet it’s ours all the same.

But Whitney Gable’s words are still burned into my brain.

“You can’t buy me.”

I hope it doesn’t come to the point where I find out she was lying. I want to believe she’s still different from everyone else.

Nine

Whitney

This afternoon has been a trip down memory lane, and I’ve hit every pothole in the road. I wanted to sneak back into Gable quietly, without anyone being the wiser, hug my cousin and my aunt and lick my wounds in peace for a while. Clearly, that wasn’t in the cards.

After stuffing ourselves at Cocko Taco, I’m feeling a tiny bit better about my decision to return. Top-notch guac and queso can do that for a girl.

Cricket guides her van down roads I know by heart, but they look different after ten years away. Older houses that were beyond repair have been replaced with new construction. The high school looks like it’s brand new, and the Riscoff Memorial High sign out front reminds me of the man I just saw.

Before today, it was easier not to think about all the things that have been changing in my absence. Including the fact that Lincoln has aged better than the Italian wine Ricky once tried to collect but drank within months instead . . . right before his first stint in rehab.

Cricket turns left down Aunt Jackie’s street, and I catch a glimpse of the mountain peaks rising above the tall pines. At least some things don’t change.

“Beware, Karma’s been in the shittiest mood for the last couple months, and I have no idea why. I think she’s pregnant again, but I’m afraid to ask her. Lord knows, the last time I asked that, she ripped me a new one.”

“Again?”

Cricket nods.

“Is she still seeing the twins’ dad?”

“Lord only knows. She won’t tell me anything. It’s like the older she gets, the bitchier she gets, which means there’s pretty much no end in sight to this downward spiral.”

When we were growing up, I always had Asa, and he’d taken his role as big brother seriously, scaring off any guy who looked my way. Other than that, as far as siblings went, he was a pretty damn good one overall. I’ve been saved from ever wanting a sister, though, because of Karma.