by Megan Green
Liquid courage. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it. —B
I twist off the top, lifting the flask up in a mock toast to Brandon for having the foresight to know I’m going to need hard liquor if I’m going to make it through this day in one piece. The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, and I welcome the sensation. It takes my mind off what I’m about to do, if only for a moment.
I take another shot before sliding the flask back in my bag and climbing out of the car. With the present tucked under my arm, I walk up to the house that holds so many memories.
My journey is cut short though when the door flies open, a tiny form bounding out of the house and flinging itself into my path. Arms circle my neck and legs wrap around my waist, and I have no choice but to catch her and hold her to me, not unless I want both of us to end up on our asses in the gravel.
The fact that I bury my face in her hair and breathe in deep is entirely beside the point. I’m only doing this for her safety. Nothing else.
“Carter,” Avery squeals against my shoulder as she clings to me. “I’ve missed you so, so much. I can’t believe it’s been months since we’ve seen each other.”
She makes no move to climb down, so I don’t loosen my hold on her. Again — safety.
“I know it. What the hell, Smalls? You get engaged and suddenly become too good for your old friend?”
My tone is light, but even saying the words causes an ache in my chest so deep, I feel like I can’t breathe.
She doesn’t seem to notice though, lifting her face from my shoulder and pulling back just enough to look me in the eye.
And just like every other time in the past twelve years, the mere sight of her is enough to take my breath away. Her dark eyes shine with tears and excitement, her skin sun-kissed from the long summer days I’m sure she’s spent out on the farm, the small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose more pronounced with the added color.
“Oh, please,” she says, giving me a light smack on the arm. “More like your superstar lifestyle has been keeping you too busy for your childhood bestie. I was surprised you even remembered my name when I called, not with all the women that are surely throwing themselves at you over there in Seattle.”
Her tone is light and joking, and she has no idea how much her words sting. Because yes, there are plenty of women in Seattle who would be more than willing to warm my bed.
Unfortunately for me, none of them even come close.
To her.
The realization that I’m holding another man’s fiancée in my arms suddenly becomes too much to bear. I drop my hold on Avery’s legs, slowly lowering her back to the ground in front of me.
“Like that could ever happen. You’ve wormed your way too deep into my life for me to just forget you.” And my heart, I tack on silently.
Avery grabs my hand and leads me into the house. “Good, because if you ever even tried to replace me, I’d kick your ass, Hughes. I’m one of a kind.”
Ain’t that the damn truth.
Once inside, I’m immediately assaulted by frilly and lacy white everything as far as the eye can see. White cupcakes with white frosting. White wrapped packages. White tablecloths. White ribbons. White, white, white, white.
And, if that wasn’t bad enough, as soon as we enter the room, Mrs. Grant flits over with a surprise, draping a white sash across Avery’s body.
When she steps back and we can all read what it says, the entire room erupts in a chorus of, “Aw.”
Except for me. It takes everything in me not to groan at the sight. Or maybe dry-heave.
Across Avery’s chest are the words Future Mrs. Johnson.
And Avery fucking beams.
Seeing the happiness on her face as she looks down at the sash and then at the ring on her finger—and, my God, could Johnson have picked a gaudier piece of shit?—tears my heart in two.
But it also makes me realize something.
I’ve had my chance to tell Avery how I feel. I could’ve told her a million times over the years. Now, she belongs to somebody else.
Despite what Brandon and Tag said, there’s nothing I can do. I won’t ruin this for her. I refuse to be the reason she has even a moment of doubt or second-guessing when she’s so clearly happy.
I love her. I love her more than anything in the world.
And, if that means letting her go so that she can be happy, then so be it.
A figure steps into my line of sight, and I realize I must’ve dazed out, my eyes fixed blankly on the wall across from me, looking but not really seeing. When I focus on the person in front of me, I see Avery’s concerned face.
“Carter? You okay?”
I plaster on a smile. “Of course. I’m just happy for you. This is the day you’ve been waiting for.”
And, with that, I step over to the circle of women, taking a seat among them, and I watch the final shreds of my heart tear into her packages.
Chapter 4
Avery
“So, the white fondant with white cake and a raspberry drizzle. Excellent choices, Avery. I think you’ll be very pleased.”
I beam at the baker as she jots down our final decision in her notes. There aren’t exactly a lot of options in the area for wedding cakes, and I was so thrilled when I called the best baker in Cheyenne and was told she had availability to make our cake in November.
Miles has been less enthused, a point he only drives home as he glances at his phone for the millionth time since we walked in. He only took two bites of cake, telling me to choose whatever I wanted because he didn’t like cake anyway. Something I didn’t know until today.
I mean, who hates cake? It’s basically its own food group.
But I let it go, knowing that the minute details of wedding planning never seem to matter to men. My mom told me that my dad said just to tell him when and where, and he’d be there. He didn’t have any interest in being part of the process either.
At least Miles was able to break away from the team and come with me today, I think, deciding to focus on the positive.
While he plays for Wyoming’s professional team and he’s never far away unless the team is on the road, getting time off isn’t always easy. There’ve been plenty of times we’ve gone days and days without seeing each other since he was drafted and then called up to the majors. A fact I’m slowly trying to get used to.
I never imagined being married to a professional athlete. It’s definitely not ideal, not for the lifestyle I always envisioned myself living. But marriage is nothing if not about compromise. Baseball is important to Miles. And Miles is important to me. We’ll figure out a way to make it work. Besides, he’d never ask me to up and quit my job just because I sometimes have to work long hours. Because he knows I love it. He understands that, sometimes, life isn’t perfect. It’s what you do with those imperfections that make it worthwhile.
After we each shake the baker’s hand, we head out to the front to pay the deposit for the cake. I see a restroom on the way, and after making sure Miles knows where to go and what to do, I duck inside.
My mind drifts to my job as I take care of my business, my mind making a mental to-do list for the following day.
I manage a senior care center in Stetson. Well, I should say I manage the senior care center in Stetson. In a town of less than ten thousand, we only have one. Of pretty much everything. One care center. One gas station. One grocery store. Though rumor has it, they might be building a Walmart out by the city limits in the next year or so.
I sure hope not. As convenient as the big-box store might be, I’d hate to see all the small, local businesses go under, which is inevitable when something like Walmart moves into town.
A sudden image of my grandmother springs to mind, and I can’t help but wonder what she’d have to say about the whole Walmart thing. She’s the reason I started volunteering at the care center, as she was a resident there when I was younger. After she passed, I knew I wanted to do something to make those final y
ears of those poor people’s lives more pleasant. Many of them have children who moved away and don’t get back to visit very often. I saw it over and over again each time I went to visit my grandmother. And I’ve made it my life’s mission to ensure nobody ever dies alone.
So, yeah, there are some days I stay at the center far longer than what’s considered normal. If a staff member calls in sick, I am there to pick up the slack. I am not above wiping butts and turning residents to ensure they don’t get bedsores. And, when one of my residents wants to talk, I make sure to be there for as long as they need me.
I know most people don’t understand my desire to help the elderly. Most of my coworkers will even try to spring me from a room whenever a resident has kept me “captive” too long. But I truly don’t mind it. I am fascinated by hearing their stories, listening to their memories, and just keeping them company as they continue to fade into old age.
And, when the inevitable day comes—the day they finally leave us for good—I’ll make sure they’re never alone. If a family member isn’t able to make it back to be with them in their final hours, I will be there, holding their hand until they take their final breath.
The sting of tears pricks at the corner of my eyes, knowing that it won’t be long before that time comes again. Old Mrs. Banks has been on a downward slope ever since she caught pneumonia last winter. It’s only a matter of time before I have to say good-bye to one of my oldest and dearest residents.
I blow out a breath, wiping my eyes with a paper towel as I assess my appearance in the mirror. Thinking about the tough days at my job is almost as bad as actually living them. It’s sure as hell not an easy job. But I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
After I’m sure I’m not going to embarrass myself with crazy raccoon eyes or smudged lipstick, I turn and leave the restroom and go in search of Miles.
It doesn’t take long to find him.
I pull up short as soon as I step into the lobby, my eyes locking on Miles as he leans over the counter, his hand coming up to tug a strand of the cute cashier’s hair as he gives her a charming smile.
The same charming smile he’s given me a hundred times over the last three years.
The smile that means he likes what he sees.
I watch as the girl blushes, her eyes lowering so that she’s peering up at him through her long lashes. A soft smile graces her lips, and it’s obvious she’s not used to getting so much attention from men. Especially not a man like Miles Johnson.
My eyes remain transfixed on the two of them, my chest tightening as Miles leans closer and closer. And, for the briefest of moments, I think he’s actually going to kiss her. I’m about to stand here and watch my fiancé kiss another woman.
I can’t seem to move my feet. Can’t seem to form the words that are fighting to break free from my tongue. Instead, I stand here, mouth hanging open, my entire body paralyzed and helpless to stop what it’s about to see.
A loud thump startles me out of my trance, and I turn to see my purse tipped over on the floor. I must’ve dropped it while in my impotent state.
When my eyes lift back over to the scene I was unable to look away from only moments ago, I find a completely different story. Miles is no longer mere inches from the girl, and the girl is rushing around the counter in order to help me gather the spilled contents of my bag.
“Oh, goodness. Are you okay? Here, let me help you get that.”
My eyes remain on Miles as I lower myself to my knees, feeling around for my bag and righting it so that I can begin dumping my stuff back inside. The girl manages to get most of it, my halfhearted attempts hindering her more than helping.
“Must’ve been all that cake, huh, babe? You got the jitters from all that sugar?” Miles says with a grin as he saunters over to me, pulling me up off the floor and throwing his arm around my shoulders before tugging me into his side.
I give him a dirty look. I only took a few bites of cake before I made my decision. It probably didn’t even add up to a full piece.
I make my apologies to the girl for the commotion and mess, thanking her for her help and then ducking under Miles’s arm and heading for the front door. I can’t get out of here quickly enough.
Miles trails behind me to the car, not even attempting to speak. It’s like he knows I’m pissed and wants to give me a moment to cool off before he tries to explain himself.
Or to give himself a moment to come up with a lie.
As soon as we’re both in the car, I whirl on him. “Care to tell me what all that was about?”
He doesn’t turn to look at me, just turns over the ignition and puts the car in reverse so that he can back out of the stall. “What all what was about?”
“Don’t give me that. You and that cashier. You were two seconds away from sticking your tongue down her throat.”
He turns and puts his arm around the back of my seat, craning his neck to look out the back window as he slides the car out of the parking spot. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. We were just talking.”
“Right. I guess I just imagined the fact that you were so close to her; it was hard to tell where you ended, and she began.”
He lets out a soft chuckle as he turns back around and puts the car into drive. “You’re being dramatic, Avie. I was just talking to her while I waited for you. She was telling me about her younger brother who’s a huge Larks fan. I was telling her she should bring him to a game sometime. Kid’s got cancer or some shit. I told her I’d take care of the tickets if she could just make some arrangements to get him there.”
A brief pang of guilt flashes through me. “Her brother has cancer?”
He nods. “Yep. I felt sorry for her. So, if you saw anything at all, it was just concern for a fellow human being. It can’t be easy, watching your kid brother be sick like that.”
I shake off the guilt, knowing that what I saw was more than just concern. “That still doesn’t explain why you were touching her hair and leaning into her like you wanted to do a whole lot more than that.”
Miles reaches over and links his fingers through mine, giving them a firm squeeze. “Babe, you’re just being paranoid. I know it isn’t easy for you with my being away so much. And I’m sure all this wedding stuff is starting to get to you. You’ve been so stressed out the past few weeks; it doesn’t surprise me that you think you saw something you didn’t. I know you worry about me when I’m on the road. But I promise you, I’ve never been anything but faithful. You’re the only woman I want, Avie. And that includes barely legal cashiers at bakeries.” His voice is so sincere, his touch so gentle and reassuring, that I can’t help but wonder if maybe I did make more out of it than it was.
What he said is true. I have been under a lot of stress lately. Not just with the wedding and his traveling, but also with work. And wasn’t I just thinking about losing one of my favorite residents only moments before I stepped out into the lobby? My vision was probably still blurry from the tears I’d tried so hard to wipe away, my brain still clouded from the maudlin thoughts of loss and hurt.
So, really, it’s not surprising that I took what was a seemingly innocent scene and turned it into something it wasn’t. And, while I know Miles would never cheat on me, I can’t deny that there’s always that slight niggling of doubt in the back of my mind whenever he’s on the road. The small part of me that says there’s no way a hot professional baseball player is going to be satisfied by being with the same small-town girl he’s dated since senior year of high school. That there’s bound to be someone prettier, classier, and just all-around better who’s going to tempt him away from me.
It’s a side of myself I’m not proud of. But it’s there all the same.
I exhale slowly, leaning my head back against the seat as I close my eyes and let the shame of my stupidity wash over me. When I open them, I turn to see Miles smiling at me.
“I’m sorry, Miles. I don’t know what got into me.”
He lifts our clasped fingers to his mouth, pressin
g a kiss to the back of my knuckles. “It’s okay, Avie. We all get a little crazy sometimes.”
Something about his words rubs me the wrong way, but I let it go. I’m just being paranoid. Pre-wedding jitters and all that.
But I can’t help but wonder what Carter would have to say about the last thirty minutes.
He’s not the great guy you make him out to be, Avie.
Carter and Miles have never gotten along, Carter always insisting Miles has this dark side I don’t know about. I’ve always chalked it up to the rivalry that exists between the two of them, both being superstar pitchers in the same school district in Wyoming. And Carter has always been sort of overprotective of me, nobody I’ve ever dated quite measuring up to his standards.
But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I should’ve listened more.
I turn and look at Miles, my eyes scanning over his crooked smile as he stares out the windshield. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost looks…smug. Like maybe he just got away with something he knows he shouldn’t have.
And I can’t help the thought when it springs to my mind.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 5
Carter
I storm up the stairs, chucking my glove against the wall of my room as soon as the door slams shut behind me before throwing myself face-first down onto my bed and screaming into my pillow.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
The latch of the door sounds behind me, and I bury my face deeper into the pillow, already knowing who I’m going to find. And I don’t want to face her. Not after what she saw this afternoon.
She apparently doesn’t get the hint, the soft sound of her footsteps padding across the floor until she reaches my side. Gently setting herself down on the bed, she places her hand on my shoulder and gives me a slight shake. “C’mon, Carter. It wasn’t that bad. I don’t know why you let him bother you so much.”
