Prologue
Everlee
The doctor frowned down at me once he finally ripped his eyes from his clipboard, which he’d been staring at for what felt like an eternity. “Everlee, why aren’t you on insulin yet? You were diagnosed with diabetes months ago.”
I winced. How did I explain to a doctor, who seemed to have an endless supply of money to dip into, that I couldn’t afford to have diabetes, that I couldn’t afford the insulin I needed to get my sugars under control? Insulin was necessary, but with as expensive as it was, especially for a person like me without health insurance, it was treated as more of a luxury.
I couldn’t even afford these doctor bills that I kept racking up every time I fainted and someone called 9-1-1 for me. I was working two jobs, both of them part-time positions, which meant health insurance wasn’t something they had to offer. And even then, health insurance premiums were too high for someone like me to afford. Because that would then come out of one of my checks, and I barely scraped even on bills every month. As it was, I was surviving off of ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I knew that didn’t help my current situation, but when you only have a dollar to spare, ramen noodles were the cheapest thing to grab.
I shrugged at the doctor. He sighed. “You need to get in to see an endocrinologist, Everlee. Don’t play with your health. One day, we’re not going to be able to help you. Do you understand that?”
Swallowing thickly, I nodded. I knew the risks associated with not seeing a proper doctor and getting on the right medications to help me live a stable life, but when you couldn’t afford something, you just couldn’t. And there was no way around that.
“I’ll do my best, doc.” It wasn’t a lie. I was already doing my best. Just my best wasn’t enough. But it was all I had.
His frown deepened. It was obvious he didn’t believe me. But there was nothing I could do about that. Life was life, and mine sucked.
I signed off on my discharge papers so I could finally leave the hospital. My best friend and roommate, Charlie, was waiting outside for me in her almost thirty-year-old Honda Civic. It seemed to be broken down more than it ever ran, but today was my lucky day. I didn’t have to catch a bus home. That was two dollars and seventy-five cents saved.
“Don’t hate me,” she said as soon as I got into the car. If there was one thing to know about Charlie, she couldn’t keep quiet about anything to save her life—not if she was eager to tell someone. But I loved her despite it. She was one of the only people in this world to never let me down. She even cried with me when I found out I was a type one diabetic, which was uncurable. I was stuck with it for the rest of my life.
Just another crap thing to add to my overflowing plate of crappy situations.
“What did you do?” I asked her, already on guard.
She winced. “I, um, might have got you some help?”
I arched a brow at her, not following why I would hate her for getting me help. “Help?” I questioned, wondering where exactly she was going with this. “What kind of help, Charlie?”
She grimaced. Immediately, I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever came out of her mouth next, but nothing could have prepared me for what she’d done. “So… I came across an ad on Facebook. It was for like, I don’t know, a mail-order bride kind of thing?” Oh, God. “I might have filled out your information and submitted it.”
“Charlie!” I yelled at her, my face paling.
“Please don’t be mad!” she begged me, swinging her wide eyes to mine as we stopped at a red light. “I was just trying to help, and you keep getting worse, and,” tears filled her eyes, breaking my heart, “I don’t know what else to do, Ever!” I sighed, my gut cramping at her tears. “I know it’s terrifying for you, but this is scary for me, too. You’re like my sister, and I can’t lose you.”
“Oh, Charlie,” I whispered, reaching over to grab her hand in mine. I sighed, tears burning in my eyes, too. “The doctor warned me that one day, they might not be able to save me.” It hurt me to say those words, but I never lied to Charlie. My lips trembled. “If one of these guys has something real to offer that could help me, I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?” It might even be my only hope of getting help before my diabetes ended up killing me.
She sniffled. “You might have to leave me to go live with him.”
I frowned. “I don’t like that.”
She squeezed my hand before releasing it to make a left turn. “I know, but we have to think about you right now, Ever. And your health is declining rapidly. We’ll figure everything else out, but no matter how far you might have to move, I am always just a phone call away. We’ll always be family, whether whoever you happen to marry likes it or not.”
I smiled at her, but inside, I was a bundle of nerves. Leaving her, my best friend, my only family, to marry a stranger who might be able to help me was terrifying and risky.
But honestly, I was already playing a risk by never seeing an endocrinologist and never getting on insulin.
Possibly marrying a psycho couldn’t be too much worse, could it?
~*~*~
My phone pinged as I was brushing my hair. Frowning, I grabbed it off the counter and looked at the screen.
I had a new email from a weird email account I hadn’t seen before: [email protected].
Curious, I clicked the link and opened it.
Everlee,
Hello. I just received your application from On the Dotted Line, and I was very interested in your responses. I’d like to possibly meet you and get to know one another. Based on your application, I think we could come to a mutual agreement that benefits both of us.
A little information about me: I’m thirty-six years old, and I live in Montana. My four brothers and I inherited the ranch we live and work on from our parents. One of us has to be wed for the inheritance to be unlocked and given to us, so I’m biting the bullet for all of us, so to speak.
Between the money I have now and the inheritance from my parents, I’d have more than enough to help you with whatever you may need. I know you have medical expenses, and I can definitely help with that.
We can discuss paying off rent, moving expenses, etc., if we happen to be compatible and we would both like to move forward.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Tripp Walker
Holy crap. A rancher—and a wealthy one at that—had emailed me about the application Charlie had submitted! I almost couldn’t believe it. It really almost felt too good to be true.
I drew in a shaky breath. Part of me wanted to delete his email and never think about it again. Part of me just wanted to try to figure this out on my own. But I knew I needed help. I had the kind of problems that money could solve most of.
I blew out a soft breath, and with my phone in my hand, I took a seat on my bed and began to respond to his email, hoping I wasn’t making a grave mistake as I did so.
