Leith
Iwalked down Main Street in a daze. I had shit to do, but all I could think about was last night with Clarke. I
hadn’t been expecting that when I stayed to fix her rain gutters or when we sat down to eat dinner. I wish I could
blame it on the fact that I just haven’t gotten any in a while, which is true, but it wasn’t the reason I let things
escalate with Clarke. I did it because I wanted to.
I know I said it didn’t have to mean anything, and maybe it didn’t for her. But the way the night was pressed up
against the front of my head made me realize that it meant something to me.
So, I was in de ep shit, I guess. I tried to physically shake her out of my head, but it didn’t work. I guessed I was
just going to have to talk to Ron with the image of Clarke coming all over my tongue playing on a loop.
Great. I’d parked down the street from Ron’s office, so that I had some time to walk out my nervous energy. I
always felt more calm after a jaunt. Plus, it also meant that Ron wouldn’t see me coming.
The morning fog that always coated the streets of Sweetwater Peak was still clinging to the edge of the tree line
as I walked. When visibility was low like this, it felt like the entire world was made up of this town and this town
only. Or if there was anything else out there, it couldn’t get to us. Sweetwater Peak was safe and protected, and if
that didn’t ke ep the bad
things out, we always had our plethora of potholes as the first line of defense.
My original plan was to tell Ron that Clarke and I were getting serious and hope that he would be convinced
enough to overlook the specific language of the farm’s whacked-out line of succession. After all, rules are only rules
when they’re enforced, and I just needed to make sure Ron didn’t see the need or reason to enforce them. And if
nobody else knew about it (hell, I didn’t even know about it until Clarke intervened), then I wouldn’t have to worry
about anyone else trying to swoop in.
Until I heard about Flynn at the hardware store. What if he knew, and he was coming for what he thought was
his? There was also a part of me that wondered if this is what my dad wanted all along. Maybe that was why he
didn’t spend as much time teaching me about what it meant to own the farm. Maybe it was never supposed to be
mine.
Still, I refused to believe that it would be better off in Flynn’s hands— especially because there was no way
Flynn would ke ep it. And if there was one thing I was sure that my father wouldn’t do, it was sell the farm.
Once I got to Ron’s office, I rolled my shoulders back and down before pulling the front door open. I thought
about the last time I was here... with Clarke. God, she would not get out of my head, would she?
“Sorry to barge in like this, Ron...” I said but trailed off when I realized it wasn’t just Ron and me in his office.
There were two men in front of his desk who turned to face me. One of them I knew. Flynn Wilkes.
Flynn was in his midsixties. My mom used to call him the dollar-store version of my dad until she decided that
was offensive to dollar stores. Flynn’s hair and beard were unk ept, and the old Brushpopper button-down he was
wearing was stained. He had the same eyes as Lainey and me. I hated it.
He remembered every word of their last conversation. She
If you like a love story with unfinished business, take a look at
The other man looked like he didn’t belong within a hundred-mile radius of Sweetwater Peak. I didn’t know
much about clothes or suits or shit, but whatever he was wearing looked expensive. His hair was gray and
fashionably slicked back. He looked like a Bond villain, and the feeling I got in my gut when I looked at him was
not good. Not good at all.
“Leith, my boy.” Ron stood up. His voice was a little... panicked, maybe? “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I should have called,” I said. But I was glad I didn’t. “I just wanted to check in on my, um, request.” Even
though I knew damn well Ron hadn’t pulled any files on my father’s will or the Wilkes estate because all those
documents were currently under my mattress. I looked at Mr. Villain. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” I said,
reaching out my hand for a shake. “I’m Leith Wilkes.”
“Ed,” the man said before gripping my hand. If his handshake was any indication, Ed was overcompensating for
something.
“Nice to meet you. Flynn”—I nodded toward my cousin—“I didn’t know you could come out during the day.”
Flynn’s laugh was menacing. “Kid has jokes,” he said. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, boy.”
“What are you doing here?” I snapped back. “Just meeting up with some old friends.” Flynn smiled willfully,
gesturing to Ron and Ed.
“You don’t have any friends,” I said. It probably wasn’t a good idea to poke the bear—especially when it felt
like the bear had the upper hand, but
Flynn was a hot stove and I was a kettle. I went from zero to boiling in thirty seconds flat.
“Oh, but clearly I do. Right here. And we were just catching up. Swapping stories, information, you know, as
friends do.”
What did that mean? Had Ron told Flynn about the will? Was Flynn here to talk about the farm? And who the
fuck was Ed?
“Apologies, Leith, I’ve just had a busy couple of months, but I assure you, I’ll get to it once I wrap up a few
other things.” Ron’s voice cut through my and Flynn’s standoff.
I didn’t know how to respond. There was part of me that wanted to ask him to pull the file now, but then I felt
like it would set off an alarm in Flynn’s brain. Then a thought kicked me in the back of the knees. Was
Ron... working with Flynn? Was that why he’d been blowing me off on getting the information about my dad’s
estate? Was there any other reason that Flynn would be in a lawyer’s office in the middle of the afternoon? If Ron
had told him about the farm’s succession, then the plan Clarke and I had hatched might not be enough. But maybe it
could be.
Maybe I could have the upper hand. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Take your time. Sorry again for barging in.
Ed, nice to meet you.”
I needed to talk to Clarke.
“H