A Pack of Their Own novel · Chapter 11 of 32

Chapter 11: Heir, You Said

Winona's POV

Callie waited until the lamp was off before she started.

"So," she said, from the other bed in the dark. "Behind the barn."

"No."

"Winona. Grandpa saw. Nana saw Grandpa see. By lunch, a nine-year-old boy asked me if you were getting married."

"I'm not talking about it."

"I'm going to talk about it, and you're going to lie there and listen." Her bed creaked.

"That boy walked into six rifles and lied to every one of them for you. Nobody has ever done that for me, and I'm funny."

"I know."

"Then why are you in bed?"

I didn't have an answer.

I got up, found my boots in the dark and went out.

He was at the creek, where I thought he'd be.

Roark sat on a rock at the edge of the water with a pile of flat stones beside him.

He was skipping them one at a time across the dark.

He heard me and didn't turn around.

"You should be asleep," he said.

"So should you."

"My father is coming in three days."

"I know. I heard."

I sat down on the next rock, close enough that my knee touched his.

Neither of us moved away.

"Tell me why you did it," I said. "The infirmary, I mean. Don't tell me you were raised to be polite."

He threw a stone. It skipped six times.

"I was afraid," he said. "That's the whole answer."

"Of him?"

"Of what he'd do to you if I said it in front of him.

If I fought him there, his guards would have put you in a cell and called it protective custody. I've seen it done."

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