Chapter 11
I woke up sore as hell, every damn muscle aching. My legs didn’t even feel like they were attached to my body anymore.
Before I even opened my eyes, I heard Winnie’s chirpy little voice echoing through the cabin.
“Daddy, why’s Mama still asleep? I want my braids!”
“Shhh,” Ethan muttered. “She’s tired from last night. Let her rest a little longer.”
Winnie wasn’t buying it. That little girl was sharp as a tack.
“Why’s she tired?” she pressed.
Ethan paused. I swear to God his ears turned red.
“Grown-up stuff. Not your business. And hey—don’t call her Aunt Nina anymore. She’s your mama now.”
Winnie gasped like it was Christmas morning.
“Really? For real?! Yay! My mama’s way prettier than Ellie’s mom, like ten thousand times prettier!”
Ethan chuckled, trying to hide it behind a cough.
“Mhm. Now listen—Daddy’s gotta go work the field. You stay with your mama, help take care of her, alright? No running off chasing squirrels.”
“I will!” she beamed, swinging her braids like a prize.
After he left, I rolled out of bed, groaning. My back ached like I’d been trampled by horses.
That bastard.
He’d turned into some insatiable beast.
It wasn’t just that one night. After that, Ethan Shaw couldn’t get enough. No matter how hard he worked during the day—hauling logs, plowing fields—he’d still come crawling into my bed with that same damn look.
I tried slapping him once. He didn’t even flinch. Just caught my hand and kissed my fingers, murmuring,
“If I die, I want it to be on top of you.”
The worst part? He meant it.
And that’s how a year flew by—me dodging him under the sheets, him grinning like a devil.
But then came the draft.
Word spread that Prince Victor had teamed up with the Roland Clan—full-blown rebellion. And our sweet old President was too busy playing politics in D.C. to lift a finger. So the generals—old ones like Whitaker—got called up again to lead.
Recruiters flooded every town. Any man with working limbs got scooped up. No questions asked.
And Ethan? The dumbass got caught.
He went into town to buy me rouge and came back wearing a goddamn uniform.
He never came home.
Three years. Nothing. Not a letter. Not a whisper.
