Without Warning (Capparelli & Co. Book 1)

by Dee Lagasse

  Next to the tent is the chatter of excited guests anticipating our arrival. Slow classical music comes through the speakers set up next to the rows of white folding chairs that lead to the arch handmade by Lorenzo Capparelli. Davis says hello to members of Kinley’s family as he makes his way toward the front with Travis. The rest of us wait for our instructions. Kinley had been convinced that since it was a small wedding, they didn’t need a rehearsal dinner, but as I stand here with my hand in my pockets, it would have been nice to know what I was supposed to be doing right now.

  As if he was reading my mind, Hollis’s Grampa O’Brien walks up to us and motions for us to follow him, making our way back to the front of the cabin.

  “Wait till you see Hollis,” he whispers to me as we walk together.

  Everyone is either trying to push us together or we’ve done a horrible job of hiding the fact that there’s something going on between us the last few weeks. As soon as we make the corner, Kinley is the first person I see. Nervously waving to us with one hand, she clings to her dad’s arm with the other. Her mom, understandably, already wiping tears from her eyes. My mom wasn’t lying when she said that Kinley looked beautiful. A wreath of white flowers sits on top of the waves of blonde hair and the light, white fabric of the lace-sleeved dress is fitted at the top but leads to a flowing skirt. The specific style would never leave you to think that Kinley is almost three months pregnant.

  “Hot damn,” Tucker whispers under his breath next to me when Ellis steps out of the front door. My mother and Hollis’s aunts follow behind them, and I stare at the door, anxiously anticipating Hollis’s arrival. Beads of sweat begin to pool in the palm of my hand as I wait for her, and I can only imagine how nervous Davis must be waiting for his bride. Or how nervous I’ll be when my own wedding day comes. Shaking any crazy ideas out of my head, I chuckle as Hollis’s grandmothers come out and immediately begin fussing over me, Tuck, and Kenny.

  “Hollis will be out in a minute,” Nonna smiles slyly when she embraces me with her signature hug and cheek kisses.

  And that’s when it happens. That’s when the whole world stops. There’s no background noise. If there is, I don’t hear it. All I hear, all I see, is the laughter of the girl I’ve loved since she threw a fit about me cheating in gym class.

  Walking arm-in-arm with her dad, her eyes lock with mine the second she steps down onto the grass. As much as I try to will myself to move, I’m frozen. Stuck in a trance. Sliding her arm out from being linked with her dad’s, she pats his arm as he nods in my direction.

  With each step she takes, I feel my heart beating faster. Wiping my hand on the inside of my pockets, I suck in the pooling saliva in my mouth. There have been hundreds, if not thousands, of times I’ve seen Hollis in the years of us being friends, but I’ve never seen her looking as beautiful as she does right now.

  Her hair is dark, and it’s cut into the sleek, stacked bob that had been “her” hairstyle from about six months after I moved back to New Hampshire up until Noah and his ignorance came into her life. The flower wreath on her head is full of dark red flowers pulling together the color of her dress. Hollis had shown me a picture of the dress from the store’s website, but the model’s picture did it no justice.

  The long, burgundy dress leaves just enough exposed skin at the top of the dress to be sassy and sexy while still being classy. A thin ribbon defines her waist and leads to the bottom half of her dress…and the slit that goes all the way up to her midthigh.

  As everyone gushes over my niece who just came running out, I can’t pull myself away from Hollis to even look at Lola. Like a snake charmer, she has me hypnotized. Nothing and no one else but her exist right now.

  “Well look at you,” she whistles when she stands in front of me. “You clean up nice, sir.”

  Before I can say anything to her, a new song begins to play from the speakers.

  “Ave Maria,” Hollis says. That’s our cue.”

  Hollis’s aunts and uncles rush to their seats before both sets of her grandparents link arms and begin the processional toward the tent in the backyard. After Kinley’s grandparents walk down, Kenny escorts Kinley’s mom, followed by Hollis’s dad and my mom.

  One day, my mom would have the chance to do all the things that mothers do with their sons on their wedding days with me and Tucker, but today, she would get to do those things with Davis. When he pulled both me and Tuck aside and asked us if it would be okay to ask our mom to do everything a mother does with a son on their wedding day, including a mother-son dance, without hesitation, we both said yes. And so did she when he asked her.

  Ellis offers her arm to Tucker, who whispers something in her ear, getting himself playfully whacked before Ellis shakes her head and slinks her arm into the crook of his. The ladies seem to know a lot more about what’s going on than the guys do and that becomes even more clear when Hollis extends her free hand to me, implying that we’re next. Before sliding her arm in mine, she turns and blows Kinley a quick kiss.

  Leaving only Cole, Lola, and Kinley with her dad behind us, we slowly make our way down the aisle. Hypersensitive to Hollis’s body next to mine, I lean over and finally whisper, “You are beautiful.”

  Reluctantly, I let her pull away and make my way over to the side of the arch that Hollis’s brother, cousin, and my brother stand on. I’m smirking when I see Davis fidgeting, rocking in place at the front of the church.

  I get it, man. I get it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hollis

  For the first time in a long time, I feel completely like myself. My hair is once again cut short, the longest pieces of my hair falling right below my chin—something Ellis convinced me to do last night after a few glasses of wine. As soon as I said yes, she ran to her room and came back with shears and a spray bottle. Over a foot of hair is gone, and I feel lighter. Not even just on my head, but my soul too.

  Ray LaMontagne comes through the speakers as I sway back in forth in Chase’s arms, surrounded by my family and our closest friends. Everything just feels right. After Davis and Kinley made everyone cry with the most beautiful wedding vows, we took what felt like a hundred pictures and made our entrance back into the reception.

  Once again arm-in-arm, Chase and I had been introduced together and we’ve been close to each other ever since. The two of us feeding off each other’s energy, trying to keep the party going without making it too obvious that Kinley was sitting under a fan, sipping on ginger ale, and popping Tums like they were mints. My family knows she is pregnant, and so do her parents and sister, but no one else knows and that’s how it needs to stay. At least for a few more weeks, according to Kinley’s mom.

  The press was ruthless when it came to political scandals. It didn’t matter that Davis and Kinley had been together since high school, if the local newspapers found out she was pregnant before she was married, there would be something said. Especially once they found out a Capparelli was tied to the mix. Sometimes being famous in a small town had its perks, but this wasn’t one of them.

  Once I see Kinley move to a table full of older women I don’t recognize, I take full advantage of the fact “Jump In The Line” by Harry Belafonte is now playing. Grabbing Ellis and Tucker, who had been suspiciously closer than normal tonight, I whisper yell, “Help us start a conga line!”

  Within minutes, I am leading a twenty-person conga line. Instead of resting his hands on my shoulders, in typical conga line fashion, Chase’s hands are on my hips, guiding me as I shake to the rhythm of the song. As we make our way around the tent, “Conga” by Gloria Estefan starts up, and I raise my Blue Hawaiian to the DJ.

  The wedding bartender, JoAnna, is the Monday and Tuesday night bartender at Capparelli and Co. and had “accidentally” poured too much rum into my drink. With only two down, I am already starting to feel a slight buzz. Which easily explains my tingly lips and the warm fuzzies I feel.

  Once the conga line begins to disperse, I decide now, right now, this very seco
nd, would be a good time to turn, stand on my tippy toes and kiss Chase. Chase, who looks hot as fuck in his blue suit pants, his vest, and an unbuttoned white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled and pushed up. Chase with his perfectly styled hair and his cleanly shaped, trimmed beard.

  The beard is so soft today. Hesitant in his response, it takes Chase a second to kiss back and once he does, I melt. Like an ooey, gooey ice cream cone on a hot day. Placing my hands on his chest, I steady myself on the satin navy vest.

  With a low chuckle and a smirk in response, Chase rests his hand on the small of my back, closing the space left between us. As another slow song begins, he kisses the top of my head and steps back just enough to offer me the hand that isn’t still placed right above my ass. It doesn’t take long for us to find our rhythm together.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for hours,” I admit, as we sway together.

  “I would have kissed you hours ago,” he whispers into my ear before letting go to twirl me, pulling me back possessively. “All you had to do was say something.”

  “So, what you’re saying,” I whisper back, suddenly feeling brave, “is that if I want something, all I have to do is say something?”

  “Well, I mean...”

  “Spend the night with me.”

  As the song comes to an end, he uses the opportunity to dip me, pulling me away and locking eyes with me, as he brings me back up. “I’m pretty sure I already asked you to do that yesterday.”

  Smiling, I quickly peck him on the cheek before walking back to the bar to get a refill on my drink. Not that I wanted to be drunk, but if I was going to get naked in front of Chase, I was going to need a bit more liquid courage beyond warm fuzzies. Tipsy sounded like a good place to be. Stopping at the wedding party table, I grab my clutch and then squeeze myself into an open spot between Tucker and Travis, placing my empty glass on the bar.

  “It’s about fucking time,” Travis laughs, nudging me in the side with his elbow.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to feign innocence, knowing damn well he’s talking about me and Chase.

  “Yeah, okay,” the sarcasm oozing from Tucker’s words on the other side of me. “Even a blind man could see that you and big broski finally are doing the thing.”

  “The thing?” I ask. “What the fuck is ‘the thing?’”

  Before Tucker can answer, JoAnna comes over and takes our drink orders and this time I add a shot of rum to my order. Taking the shot before walking away, I leave the empty shot glass on the bar and throw a few dollars into the tip bucket. Dropping my clutch on the table, I scan the crowd for Chase. When I find him with my dad and uncles, the anger written all over his face sends me into emergency mode. If my dad and uncles are giving him some version of the “don’t you try anything with Hollis” talk that my brother and cousin used on the guys we grew up with, I will be putting my foot down. I am twenty-eight years old. They have no right to get involved in my love life.

  Or well, life. They have no right to stick their noses in my life. Because I don’t love Chase. Yeah…I can’t even convince myself of that in my own head. Preparing to stand my ground, I begin to think of all the things I’m going to tell my crazy, overprotective relatives. Just as I’m about to open with the solid argument I’ve built in my head, I stop myself when I hear Chase say, “I’m gone for twenty-four hours and the whole team falls to shit. I don’t even know how to fix this.”

  My Uncle Leo—who was the football coach for years while Chase was on the team–turns and tells him that the best thing to do is to send an email and make sure to acknowledge the situation, but not let it ruin his night. “Leave it in Abbott Hills” and “deal with it” when he gets home.

  As soon as they see me, my dad and uncles excuse themselves, as if I’m the one person who can solve whatever Chase’s problem is.

  “Come take a walk with me, Coach,” I say. Leaving my drink on the first open table I see on the way out of the tent, I take Chase’s hand in mine, leading him away from the reception.

  “I’m gone for one fucking game, Hol,” his voice is laced with frustration. “One game and they lose to Alvirne by 24 points...”

  As we walk down the dirt driveway, I squeeze his hand slightly, knowing he hasn’t gotten to the real issue yet.

  “I knew about the loss right after the game last night,” he explains. “But, I didn’t think anything of it. You know, you win some, you lose some. I figured I would give them the weekend, and we would come back and figure out what happened on Tuesday. Well, while you were getting a drink, I decided to check my phone and found 18 missed texts from players. Every single one of them pissed off because of bad coaching calls. My starting quarterback was benched in the first quarter because he made the call to execute a play he and I went over in practice instead of repeating the same play that was getting them nowhere on the field. It ended up being their only scoring drive. My players deserve better than that.”

  The guilt he feels for being here is written all over his face as he pulls out his phone and begins reading me some of the texts from his players.

  “It’s not the loss that pisses me off,” he continues. “They’re kids. What pisses me off is that Aaron walked into the locker room after the game, punched a locker, and told them all to ‘get out of his face, Coach NFL will deal with you little shits on Tuesday.’ Like, who the fuck is he? One, to be flipping out on my players, and two, to talk shit about me behind my back?”

  Aaron Hanover Sr., the assistant coach’s father, is the superintendent of the school district, so when Aaron Jr. got dishonorably discharged from the military and had no other plan, his father pulled some strings and got him the job as the assistant to the offensive coordinator. Chase’s final year on the high school team was Aaron’s first year coaching. While Chase was setting records in college, being drafted into the NFL, and winning Super Bowl rings, Aaron Jr. was on the Abbott Hills sidelines yelling at high schoolers.

  During the 2015 Super Bowl, Chase not only broke franchise records, but tore his patellar tendon in the fourth quarter. I had never felt as helpless as I did when I watched him drop to the ground from the stands. After the Patriots secured a 28-24 win, Chase refused to have surgery in Arizona. After getting pain medicine from the team doctor, Tucker, Misha, and I flew back with him on the redeye. I spent more time between doctor’s offices and physical therapists in the few months that followed than I had combined my entire life before he was hurt.

  After that season, the Patriots chose not to extend his contract due to complications with his recovery. His agent got a few calls when he became a free agent up for grabs, but Chase took it as a sign and chose to hang up his cleats, calling it the end of his career as a professional football player. That summer he sold his house in Massachusetts and moved back home to Abbott Hills. One of his first stops was to the high school to visit his old coach, my uncle Leo.

  Following my grandfather retiring from Capparelli & Co., my uncle formally announced his retirement as the football coach, knowing he would have to spend more time at the restaurant. Instead of Aaron getting the head coaching job when the position opened, Chase did. Though my uncle never took the position within the school, having Capparelli & Co. too, the head coaching position is the only coaching position that allows the option to also be a full-time gym teacher, getting your own office in the athletics department.

  Every other position is only seasonal and part time, which means no benefits and no office. Aaron’s issue with Chase comes right down to jealousy. And somehow in the small world craziness that is my life, Aaron and Noah’s, as in my ex-doucheroo, mothers are best friends. They were raised the same way, by the same conniving type of women and workaholic fathers. So that’s pretty much all you need to know about Aaron’s character.

  “I’m sure going away with me for the weekend doesn’t help matters,” I start, holding my hand up to Chase as he begins to defend me and our friendship or whatever this is. “Wait. Stop. Let me fini
sh. How about we still leave Sunday night like we originally planned, and you have the team over to that big house of yours for a pizza party? Like, a morale boost before you guys meet back up for practice on Tuesday. Before we go back to the reception, reply to that group text, tell the boys that you hear them and that you want them to come over on Monday. Send all the parents an email saying that you know what happened, you’re out of town at a family wedding, but it will be dealt with, with urgency. Mention the pizza party in the email, so they know too. And then you deal with Aaron on Tuesday.”

  For the first time since I walked over to him standing with my dad and uncles, the anger dissipates from his eyes. The world does that stop and move faster thing again when he stops us in place, takes my face into his hands, pulls me to him, and leaves a slow, soft, and very deliberate kiss on my lips.

  “Oh, and I’m coming over for pizza too,” I shrug. “I’ll talk to Uncle Leo about doing a catering order from Cap & Co. when we get back. If there’s nothing already going on, I can place the order tonight.”

  “What would I do without you, Hurricane?”

  “Live a very miserable, very boring life,” I suggest, taking his hand again as we make our way back to the reception.

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Still Hollis

  Not long after we rejoined the reception, the temperature started to drop slowly, and then all at once, everyone left the cabin. Even though our group of friends had planned on staying the night tonight, Kinley and Davis chose to go back to the hotel in town and everyone except me, Chase, Tucker, and Ellis went back to Abbott Hills after the festivities.

  Tucker and Ellis pretended to still be sleeping in different rooms, and who knows, maybe they still are. What I do know is that right now, while they are definitely not sleeping, they are, in fact, in the same room. The only reason I know is because I just finished creeping down into the kitchen to grab the bottle of tequila and the limes I know were left from the guacamole I made last night.