Ridin' Solo (Sisters From Hell Book 1) by Marika Ray (the best books to read txt) 📕

“I really did love him, Mom,” I whispered.

She pulled me in tight and kissed the top of my head. “I know, dear. Let’s just get through tonight and then we can talk about it all tomorrow.”

She held me as I silently cried, my shaky inhales becoming a steady rhythm that eventually lulled me to sleep. I woke the next morning to find Mom still by my side, her snoring sounding like a freight train bearing down on my little house. I felt bruised and battered—physically and mentally—but my heart squeezed in my chest seeing that my mom had stayed the night with me. When everyone else let you down, you can always count on your mom.

Glancing at the clock, I realized it was just barely daybreak. My body was used to getting up early for work, but Sheriff Locke had given me two weeks’ paid time off to recuperate.

I groaned and flopped back on the bed. The last thing I wanted was time off. What was I going to do? Sit and cry over Wyatt? Stare at his house out the window and wonder what he was doing without me? No, thanks. First order of business, call Sheriff and see if he’d let me come in and do some desk work. At least that would keep my mind busy.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I was about to call him when I realized he probably wouldn’t be in the station yet. Waking him with a request he wouldn’t care for wouldn’t win me any favors. Instead, my fingers started typing out a search online for a Wyatt Dolby. Unlike the first time I searched for Wyatt Smith and came up empty, this time my browser window returned pages of hits. My thumb kept flicking and my eyes nearly glazed over with all the pictures of Wyatt. Calling the sheriff was long forgotten.

“Holy shit,” I whispered in shock.

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Mom mumbled into the pillow.

I rolled my eyes, but kept my mouth shut this time. Wyatt, my partner, the guy I’d thought I could build a life with in this little town of mine, was actually from a rich, elite family in Santa Cruz. He was old money. People knew his last name like they knew household brands. Wyatt could literally buy half the acreage of our county and still have money left over for a permanent European vacation.

He was shown decked out in Armani suits, scantily clad in swim trunks on a yacht with a woman on either side of him, coming out of a dark building looking like he’d had a rough night, and even pictures of him and his sister when they were just kids. This version of Wyatt wasn’t the guy I knew.

Which just proved I didn’t know him at all.

I’d fallen in love with a guy that didn’t exist in my ordinary realm.

I’d fallen in love with a guy I’d made up in my head.

I threw the phone down on the bed and shoved my hands against my swollen eyelids. One thing was certain: I was tired of crying over him. He didn’t deserve my tears, time, or attention. Making decisions the morning after being shot at wasn’t the best time, but I knew what I’d say when I got ahold of the sheriff this morning. I’d ask to come in to work the desk and I’d ask for a new partner. If I had to disclose our fraternizing and risk punishment for it, then so be it.

I refused to work with Wyatt any longer.

Loud whispering, a muffled bang, and a snort echoed down the hallway, signaling the cavalry had arrived. My sisters were here. Esme nearly fell into the bedroom, the door hitting the wall with such force it bounced back, nearly clipping Izzy in the face.

“Careful,” Izzy warned, shooting Esme a dirty look.

Vee pushed past the two girls shooting each other looks that only twins could understand and jumped on the bed, officially waking up Mom and almost landing on my injured leg. “Mom made us promise not to come last night. Said you’d be too tired. But we’re here now, sister dear.”

“Oh joy,” I deadpanned.

“Hey!” Esme planted her hands on her hips, her tweed trousers and kitten heels looking ever so fashionable against my bedhead and pajamas. “Don’t bite the gift horse in the mouth, lady. We’re here to help out around the place and make sure our wrath is felt by he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

“Girls, why don’t you start by making us some coffee and then we can get into the other stuff?” Mom sat up against the headboard, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Vee stuck her bottom lip out, but hopped out of bed just the same. “Fine. Coffee for us all, but then we want the full scoop. Dad was not a fountain of information, to say the least. Something about Wyatt not being Wyatt and ditches out back.” Vee threw her hands in the air. “Sometimes Dad makes zero sense.”

Esme stayed in the room to help pick out an outfit for me, though I had to talk her out of the sundress that seemed way too happy and carefree to fit my current mood. I had an old pair of bootcut jeans that would probably fit over the new boot on my foot. A ratty old sweatshirt would do just fine as well. She huffed and rolled her eyes more times than a tween, but she got me dressed just in time for Izzy and Vee to come back with steaming hot mugs of coffee.

Mom put her hand on my arm. “Only share if you feel comfortable, dear. I can get these hyenas to leave if you’d like.”

“Oh my God. Seriously?” Vee took the pout up a level.

Esme snorted her displeasure and Izzy just looked like Mom had kicked a puppy right in front of her. As annoying as younger sisters could be, I needed some womanly advice, and they were perfect. Well, close enough.

“Wait for