Chapter 2

The scraps of paper drifted through the air before settling at Wesley's polished shoes.

Everyone froze.

I brushed the paper scraps from my hands.

"Madelyn can have the position. And I'm not marrying him either."

Wesley's face turned ashen, the veins in his forehead bulging. "Savannah! Have you lost your mind? If you break off our engagement, who in Willowville would ever marry you?"

My mother was trembling with rage. Pointing toward the door, she shouted, "Get out! Just get out! From this day on, I'll pretend I never gave birth to you!"

Outside, the neighbors pointed and whispered among themselves. They bet I wouldn't last three days before hunger drove me back to Wesley, begging him to take me in.

I never looked back. I walked out of that house and headed for the farthest corner of Willowville, the place everyone avoided.

The air there always carried the mixed scent of motor oil and herbal medicine.

I pushed open the rickety wooden gate. The yard was piled high with old bicycle parts.

Logan Cross was crouched on the ground, shirtless, repairing a heavy roadster bicycle. Long, crisscrossing scars stretched across his back.

Everyone in Willowville said Logan was a rough ex-soldier who'd been kicked out of the military for disciplinary violations—a violent criminal who'd been sent away for reform.

Hearing me enter, he turned around. A long, faded scar ran from the corner of his right eye across his fierce-looking face.

He looked at me, his voice hoarse and grating. "Regular Willowville folks don't come back here. Don't you know the rules?"

I didn't back away. Stepping onto a pile of scrap metal, I took a step closer.

"Logan, do you need a wife?"

The wrench slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

Logan rose to his feet. His tall frame swallowed me in shadow as his gaze locked onto my hands.

Hands covered in chilblains, split open and bleeding.

Everyone in Willowville saw nothing but a crude country girl.

Only he remembered.

Last month, when torrential rain flooded the neighborhood, and everyone hid indoors trying to save themselves, I was the only one digging out the drainage ditch with my bare hands.

I'd saved the crumbling houses behind Willowville.

I'd saved his pile of parts from being ruined as well.

Something dark churned in his eyes.

"Savannah, do you even know what you're saying? I've got nothing to my name. I left the military in disgrace. My reputation's ruined. If you marry me, you'll ruin the rest of your life."

I met his eyes without flinching. "I'm not afraid of a ruined reputation. I'm afraid of being blind to what's right in front of me. So, do you dare to marry me?"

Logan stared at me for a long ten seconds. Then he bent down, picked up the coarse work shirt draped over a bench, and pulled it on.

"Did you bring your ID?"

I pulled my identification from my pocket. "I did."

He strode toward the gate. As he passed me, he merely said, "Come."

The moment we signed our marriage license, I became Logan Cross's wife.

When we walked back into Willowville together, we ran straight into Wesley and Madelyn as they were heading out.

The moment Wesley spotted Logan beside me, he let out a scornful laugh.

"Savannah, if you're trying to make me jealous, you didn't have to stoop so low and end up with this ex-con. Within three days, you'll be on your knees begging me to take you back."

Hiding behind Wesley, Madelyn covered her mouth in mock alarm. "Savannah, being with someone this dangerous... Mom and Dad are going to be worried."

Before I could respond, a large hand settled firmly around my shoulders.