Excerpt from Barbed Wire Heart by Tess Sharpe, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

When it comes to the land, to this stretch of forest, mountain, and volcanic stone I know like the back of my hand, I am Duke's daughter through and through. I know this place better than anyone but him. Its dangers and its secrets. Some of them I'll take to my grave—whether that's forty years from now or forty minutes.

"Hey!" I call, snapping my fingers when Busy wanders too far, and she skids to a stop, running downhill back to me. Her eyes shine in the early morning light, and as I scratch behind her ears, her blocky head tilts back in bliss.

"Good girl," I say. "C'mon."

By the time we get up the hill, my boots are dusty and Busy's tongue is lolling out of her mouth. As the ground levels out, she scampers after a squirrel, and I let her.

The oak's trunk is thick with age, and its branches spread out low and high, making it perfect for climbing. But that's not why I'm here.

I approach it slowly, like it's a buck I'm getting ready to take down. It's silly, but I can't help it.

Some things are sacred.

Carved over a hundred years ago, the names in the trunk start high up, faded but still legible: Franklin + Mary Ellen. Joshua + Abigail. David + Sarah.

I trail my fingers down, over the names—there are more than thirty of them—the great loves of the McKenna family, from the Gold Rush days to now.

There was a time I dreamed about carving my own name here. But I try not to think about Will anymore. Thinking on him takes me down the shaky path that only ever leads to us. And there's no us. Not anymore.

I have to be focused on other things.

Today's the day. Time's run out.

I trace the final names carved into the tree. They're down so low I have to crouch to reach them.

Duke + Jeannie

I press my hand over Momma's name and close my eyes. My head falls forward, forehead pressing against the rough bark. I breathe in the smell of sap from the nearby pines, and Busy rustles through the brush, searching for squirrels.

I think about Momma, of what I can remember about her. Flashes of bright dresses and cowboy boots, chunky silver-and-turquoise jewelry, the faint scent of lilies floating in the air around her. How she loved the forest and the little keepsakes she collected here: a gnarled twig that looked like a question mark, a clump of moss on a heart-shaped rock. Her smile, the way she'd wrap her arms around me and lift me off my feet.

I used to think about what it might've been like if she'd lived. But the older I get, the harder that is to do. My life is my life. My fate's been set since the day she died. And now it's time to take it back.

"I'm sorry," I say to their names. To the promise the two of them made to each other. To her, dead because of that promise. Maybe even a little to Duke, because he loved her too much to let her go, and I understand that inclination better than most.

McKennas love hard and fast and only once.

I clear my throat and get up, because crying over it's no use.

Today's the day.

Only way, Harley-girl.

Three

I'm eight years old when my momma dies in front of me.

She's been nervous since breakfast. Halfway through pancakes, she walks into the living room with the phone and leaves me alone with the syrup, which I manage to dip my braid in.

I'm trying to clean it up best I can when Momma's voice rises from the living room: "Will, no, listen—I'm coming right now. You don't need to worry. Forty minutes. Okay? I'll be right there. Don't be scared, honey. Don't let Carl in. Don't let your mom unlock the door. I'll be right there, I promise."

Excerpted from Barbed Wire Heart by Tess Sharpe. Copyright © 2018 by Tess Sharpe. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.