Chapter 1: Shipped Off and Locked Out

The day the real daughter returned, I got shipped off to rural Ohio and married to a man whose hands looked like they could wring the rust off a tractor.

The air out here always smelled like fresh-cut grass and gasoline—a world away from the clean, citrusy perfume of my old city life. Folks in town whispered that I was lucky, but being handed off like a package nobody wanted didn’t feel like luck at all. The man I married, Derek, was all broad shoulders and calloused hands—a true Midwesterner, right down to the grease under his nails and the faded OSU cap that never left his head, not even at the dinner table. His boots tracked in bits of dried hay, leaving a trail across the kitchen floor.

After the wedding, he didn’t so much as brush my hand—acting like getting too close might give him a rash.

Our wedding night was stiff and silent. Derek slept on the floor, saying he didn’t want to crowd me. Since then, he’d kept his distance, like I was a stranger crashing his family’s Thanksgiving. It left an icy ache in my chest that only deepened every time he stiffened when our hands accidentally touched in the hallway. I lay awake, listening to the lonely tick of the wall clock, wondering if this was what exile felt like.

My heart grew colder every day, and just as I was about to bring up divorce—

A barrage of comments flashed across my vision, bright and jarring, like someone had turned on a TV in my head:

[Stupid side character, just wait—you’ll regret it. The male lead’s going to make it big, and luckily the main girl will save him.]

[No, side character, he really loves you! He’s just scared he’ll scare you off.]

[If you don’t believe it, check the drawer. Everything inside was bought for you.]

My hand froze. I hesitated, then pulled open the drawer.

Inside were all sorts of sexy lingerie, bunny ears, tails...

The fabrics inside were all satin and lace, delicate and daring—completely at odds with the flannel shirts and work boots littering Derek's side of the room. I blinked, half-expecting a prank, but the tags were still on. The realization sent a shiver up my spine that had nothing to do with the drafty farmhouse. Maybe Derek was hiding more than lingerie in that drawer. Maybe he was hiding himself.