Tears pooled in her eyes and I sat my beer on the table next to hers before pulling her into me. She wrapped her small arms around my waist and I enveloped her in mine, resting my chin on top of her head.
“I’m glad you see me that way,” she said into my chest. “But in reality, I don’t have a single thing figured out. Not one.”
I chuckled. “It’s not having it all figured out that impresses me, Wren. It’s that you have the guts to try—even when it’s hard, even when you’re hurting.”
Her hands clutched the back of my shirt and I hugged her tighter, letting her know I was there. I’d said what I needed to say, and I didn’t want her to get too much into her head, so I slid my hand down to grab hers and motioned toward our drinks.
“Come on, it’s time for horseshoes.”
She choked out a laugh, and it was as if that laugh brought her back to the present. She sniffed, flicking her shades back down over her eyes even though the sun was close to setting now. “Something tells me this is going to be dangerous.”
“Maybe we should warn everyone.”
“Probably.”
She was joking, but I dropped her hand and ran out in front of her, hands around my mouth so the sound would carry. “Make way, take cover! Wren Ballard is en route to the horseshoe pit! I repeat—Wren is about to throw large, heavy metal! This is not a drill!”
Zeek and Julie were the first to hear me and they played into it, acting like townspeople running through yards and spreading the word. Momma Von dropped her hands into prayer and Yvette pretended to shield Benjamin as we passed. Even Ron joined in, holding his beer can in front of his face like a shield. When I turned back to Wren, she was bent at the waist, face red, hands on her knees—laughing.
My favorite sound.
My brain was mush.
Last night had drained me—emotionally, physically—and yet I’d somehow managed to wake up and throw on a smile for the pig roast.
The morning was the hardest, but once I let go of everything I’d shed alone in my cabin the night before, I started having fun. It wasn’t hard to do, considering the company and the events. I’d laughed so much my stomach was sore like I’d done a hundred crunches. In such a short amount of time, these people had become my family.
I was going to miss them.
And even more apparent after today, I was going to miss Anderson.
If I was being honest, the consistency of my brain matter was mostly due to me beating it with a blender trying to figure out everything with Anderson. My mom had opened my eyes in a bad way, Momma Von had smoothed me out to reality, and last night I’d come to a lot of truths on my own.
I cared about Anderson—maybe more than I should. And though I knew he had come into my life at exactly the right moment, I still couldn’t deny the fact that I’d let my happiness with him distract me from trying to find the very thing I’d been searching for when I booked the cabin two months ago.
Clarity.
I needed to spend time with myself, to face what I’d been running from, and I couldn’t do that if I was spending all my time with Anderson. Still, after he’d opened up to me about how I inspired him, it was like adding a new ingredient to the bowl that I needed to blend and mull over.
I wanted it all.
I wanted to spend time finding myself and also spend time getting lost in him. It didn’t seem impossible to balance, it didn’t feel like it had to be one or the other, and yet the uneasiness I felt told me the opposite.
Still, I was too tired to even try to process it all tonight, so I’d decided to let it go for now and just enjoy myself.
We were all stuffed full, plates empty and beers refilled as we sat around Davie and Yvette’s bonfire. The night was winding down, midnight approaching now, and my exhaustion was slowly creeping into every inch of my body. My limbs were heavy—eyelids, too. Still, I couldn’t leave in the middle of old man Ron’s story.
I learned that apparently when Ron got really, really drunk off whiskey, he liked to talk. A lot. And since I’d only heard him grunt before tonight, there was no way I was moving until he stopped talking.
“After that, An Okie from Muskogee took on a whole new meaning for me,” he slurred, finishing a long string of sentences that I wasn’t even sure made any sense at all. “And I could officially mark pig shopping off my bucket list.” He hiccuped. “‘Course, I had to add it, first.”
A few people chuckled and Momma Von rubbed her hand along his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “Time for bed, Ron.”
He nodded, hiccuping again with a wide grin as he handed his half-full cup of beer to Yvette. He stood with shaky legs, balancing his weight on Momma Von, and she winked at all of us before tossing his arm over her shoulder and guiding him toward the road. We all called out our goodnights to them both, and I succumbed to my own yawn just as I noticed Anderson wasn’t back from refilling our cups yet.
I looked over my shoulder, spotting him still at the kegs, but he wasn’t alone. Tucker was there, manning the tap with a smug smile.
He was saying something just loud enough for the two of them to hear, and by the way Anderson was crushing both of our cups in his fists, I knew he didn’t like whatever it was that was being said.
I frowned, bracing my hands on the arms of my chair to go see what was going on, but I didn’t make it before I had company of my own.
“Looks like you survived your first pig roast,” Sarah said, taking the seat next to me that had been Anderson’s. Her eyes were low and red, and though she wore a smile, I didn’t feel at all like her friend.
“Barely,” I answered with a soft laugh.
She smiled wider, but her eyes narrowed like I’d taken her bait. She kicked back, facing the fire as she took a sip from her cup.
“Yeah, I love the pig roast. It does remind me just how incredibly single I am though,” she added. There was a lightness in her voice, like she was telling a joke, but I felt like I was being set up. “Seeing everyone all coupled up and all the kids running around.”
I didn’t have a response, and she knew it, because she turned her attention back to me with a raised brow.
“But you wouldn’t really know how that feels, I guess. You were married like, what, two months ago? And now here you are with Anderson.”
There it is.
I swallowed, wishing I had my beer to drink or anything to do to other than stare at her like she’d pinned me for the imposter I felt like in that moment.
“You two are really cute together,” she continued, still smiling sweetly. She ran her long nails through her ponytail and let it swing free behind her. Then she paused, making a pouty face. “Aw, but you’re leaving soon, huh? Such a shame. Bet you’re going to miss him.”
“What are you doing, Sarah?”
Her smile dropped in an instant and she leaned in toward me, practically seething. “I’m giving you a fucking wake-up call, Fashion Barbie.”
I didn’t flinch on the outside, but I had nothing left to swallow, now. My mouth was dry, heart racing, exhaustion completely snapped away by her tone.
“What is it you think you’re doing, exactly?” she probed, her question like a finger poke to the chest. “I know you’re not dumb, so you must be a bitch, because you know just as well as I do, that boy is broken. And here you are, breaking his walls down just to leave him to pick up the rubble at the end of it all.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Oh, I know plenty.” Sarah was fuming, all traces of her previous act completely gone. “You came out here to find yourself, and you found yourself, alright—right in-between the sheets with another man.”
“Fuck off,” I said, pushing from my seat. I’d had enough, but she wasn’t done yet. She grabbed me by the elbow and ripped me around, standing chest to chest with me now.
“Fine, you don’t want to be real with me about your own flaws, then at least be real about his. He’s never had a relationship, Wren. Ever. What do you want fr
om him? What do you expect? I’m the closest thing he’s ever had to a girlfriend and our relationship didn’t go much past fucking and fighting.”
My heart was in my throat, sticky and thick and beating too hard. Anderson had told me about his past with Sarah, but hearing it from her hit me in a different way. I didn’t like it, not even a little bit.
“Well, we have more than that.”
“Yeah? And what happens when you leave?”
Both of us were breathing hard, noses nearly touching, and I jumped when Anderson touched the small of my back. He pulled me under his arm, eyes jetting to Sarah, to me, and back again.
“What’s going on?”
“Just talking about shoes,” Sarah answered flatly, and then she turned and walked away, ponytail swinging.
Anderson was just as tense as I was, and I noticed then that he hadn’t returned with beers. I peered over my shoulder and found Tucker staring at us, and he didn’t bother looking away when my eyes caught his own. Anderson followed my gaze and his brows furrowed deeper.
“Come on,” he said, still holding me under his arm.
We didn’t say a word as he walked me back to my cabin, but he held me tight, as if he was trying to keep me in the moment with him when my mind was so desperate to run away. Still, I could see his own wheels spinning.
“Did Tucker say something to you?” I finally asked when we reached my drive. I stopped us at the edge of it, pressing my hands into Anderson’s chest and keeping my eyes there, too.
“Nothing that mattered.”
I nodded, letting him lie to me. I would have lied, too, if he’d asked about Sarah.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and leaning down to kiss my forehead. He kept his lips there, and I felt him reaching for me, but I was just an inch too far away.
A part of me wanted to ask him to stay, but I couldn’t—not tonight. I needed to be alone. I had too much to think about and I knew I wouldn’t let any of it in if he was in my bed.
He was the sweetest distraction, the best kind of numb because I wasn’t numb at all when I was in his arms. I was on fire.
“Goodnight,” I finally whispered, my hands twisting in his t-shirt before they let him go. I didn’t look back, didn’t stop to take my clothes off, and as soon as my body fell to the bed, I closed my eyes and gave in to the exhaustion I’d been fighting all day.
That night, I dreamed of Anderson.
He was standing on the bank of the river, right behind his cabin, and I was balancing on a rock in the middle of the stream. He was yelling something, but I couldn’t make it out, not over the rush of the water.
I couldn’t get to him, the current was too strong, I knew it was dangerous to even try. But the longer he called to me, the more desperate we both became.
He was waving his arms and I was looking around, trying to find a path, a safe step—anything. It was too much to bear, I had to hold him, I had to hear him, and so I stepped off the rock.
As soon as my foot hit the water, I heard what he’d been saying.
Stay.
And then the river took me under.
BESMIRCH
bih-SMERCH
Verb
To cause harm or damage to : sully, soil
I woke the next morning feeling restless.
My dreams had kept me tossing and turning for most of the night, and though I’d been awake for hours and was desperate to get out of bed, I hadn’t found the energy yet. It was almost noon, but nothing sounded worth getting out of bed for—not even coffee, mostly because it was too hot. I didn’t want to sketch, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to clean or go for a hike or anything.
Kicking the covers off in frustration, I finally rolled myself up and off the bed, running a hand over Rev’s head as I passed. He’d been lazy all morning with me, and though I was up, he seemed to have no intention of following.
I stopped at my reflection in the mirror above the dresser, my hair piled in a messy ponytail on top of my head, eyes underlined with dark skin, a thin sheen of sweat on my chest and neck. It was hot enough now to wish I had air conditioning, and when I moved to the sliding glass doors leading out to the bedroom balcony, I realized I did—in a way.
“What do you think, Rev,” I asked, stepping out on the balcony to let the soft breeze cool me, even if it was just marginally. “Want to ride on a tube with me and float down the river?”
I peered back over my shoulder and Rev hadn’t even lifted his head. He was perfectly content snoozing, and I just chuckled before making my way over to the bedside table to grab my phone.
The screen lit up with missed notifications—comments on a photo I’d posted from the pig roast yesterday, a missed call from Adrian, two texts from Yvette and one from Anderson that just said good morning, beautiful.
Swallowing, I placed it back on the table gently and walked almost numbly to the dresser, pulling out my swimsuit and tossing it on. I knew if I really wanted company on the river, all I had to do was make a phone call or send a text. Still, my mind was racing from the weekend. Friday had been too much with my mom, with my night of purging, and though yesterday had been fun, it had ended with even more doubt and uncertainty being crammed into my gut.
Maybe I needed a day alone to process, to think.
I didn’t even bother throwing on a cover up, just slid into a pair of sandals and covered myself with sunscreen before finishing the look with an oversized beach hat and sunglasses.
Rev sauntered outside before I shut the door and locked it behind us. He meowed his farewell just as I grabbed the tube I’d used the first time on the river and tossed it in the back of my SUV. I’d have to ride my bike down to get my car when I got back, or I could grab a ride from someone. Either way, my keys were the only thing I took with me other than the tube.
The drive up to the river entrance we’d parked at last time was short, but it passed even faster than normal as my brain ticked through the list of things driving it crazy. I thought of my mom, of Sarah, of Keith and Anderson and as always, the last one on the list was me.
I wondered why that was, why I always thought of how everyone around me felt and how my actions affected them more than myself.
That thought bothered me as I parked my SUV and tucked the tube under my arm, wobbling a bit as I made my way down the rocky path to the river. The water was freezing, so I jumped in to get it over with, catching my breath with a shiver as I came up for air again.
I definitely wasn’t hot anymore.
I hopped inside the tube and adjusted my hat and sunglasses again, settling in for the float.
It was nice—peaceful, serene, quiet. For a while I just looked around, eyes wandering the edges of the trees and the mountains, watching the birds circle lazily in the sky, listening to the water rushing over the rocks and under my tube. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, and then I leaned my head back and let myself think again.
How do you feel? What do you want? What makes you happy?
It was so strange to ask myself those questions, ones I’d never considered asking myself prior. Sure, I knew that designing made me happy, fashion made me happy, the boutique and Adrian and the team—they all made me happy.
And for a long time—so did Keith.
Still, I hadn’t asked myself how I felt about my decisions lately. How did I feel about ending my marriage, about why I did it, how I did it, and what would come next?
They weren’t easy questions to answer, but I made my first attempt.
The first thing I realized was that I felt sad. I truly did, and for many reasons.
I missed Keith, not just what we’d had and what I thought my future would have been, but the actual person, too. Though our marriage was anything but loving toward the end, he was still my best friend. He had filled the biggest role in my life for ten years, and now he was just gone.
The worst part was that there was nothing I could do to change that.
And he was right.
He didn’t owe me friendship, or understanding, or—though I wanted it more than anything—forgiveness.
The only person who could free myself was me. And yet I couldn’t remove the chains.
As sad as I felt, I also knew in my heart of hearts that I’d made the right decision. I already felt lighter, happier, more at peace with who I was and who I would become. I may have been stumbling, trying to find balance, but at least I didn’t feel judgment from someone who claimed they loved me. I only felt encouragement from myself, almost like a baby bird learning to fly, with no rush to leave the nest. It would come in time, and every day was a lesson until then.
But what did I want? What made me happy?
Those were the thoughts that scared me most, because the answer was obvious, and yet I felt ashamed of it.
Anderson.
Everything about him equated to happiness in my mind.
I loved spending time with him, loved learning about him, loved how he looked at me—the real me—every single part of me and found beauty in it. He asked about my designs, my passions, my future. He loved when I didn’t wear makeup, but appreciated when I did, too—not because it made him happy, but because it made me happy.
I’d never felt so at home with someone in my entire life, and yet I’d lived with another man for seven years. I wasn’t sure what that said about Keith, or about Anderson, or about me, for that matter.
But what Sarah had said last night still rang in my ears. Here I was just months out of my divorce and I was falling into another man. It felt like I wasn’t allowed to have these feelings, like I should feel guilty—either for moving on so quickly or for finding happiness in a man, at all.
Summer Romance Box Set: 3 Bestselling Stand-Alone Romances: Weightless, Revelry, and On the Way to You Page 50
