Forever Wanted: Part One: A Contemporary Runaway Bride Romance

by Dee Palmer

  “He thinks I’m going to change my mind, and if I’m not there by noon, he’s going to head home.”

  “That seems a bit dramatic.”

  “I think it’s understandable. I don’t believe he has reservations about us, it’s just a bit of a monumental U-turn.” Gramps holds the door of his truck open for me. He shuts the door, rests one hand on the open window and rubs his chin with the other.

  I can almost see the words churning around in that old head of his. He nods after a moment of considered reflection. “True and he’d not likely want to hang around if you did change your mind and become Mrs. Mason.”

  “Don’t. Even saying it makes me shudder.” My body shakes from my shoulders to my knees at the notion.

  “So you’re going to be missus what then?” He winks and walks around the front of the truck.

  “Let’s get this wedding over with first.”

  “I’m not hearing a no.”

  “Just drive, Gramps.” Pointing at the road ahead, his loud laugh is drowned out by the rumble of the truck’s old engine.

  It seems to take forever to get to the Mason estate, and I don’t know where the morning has gone. I bet I have a thousand missed calls from Kurt’s mother, and not for the first time, I’m glad I left my phone at their house when I left last night. I know Kurt tracks it, as if I’m the one not to be trusted.

  “Oh my!” I gasp as we crest the brow of the hill that leads down to the house. So many cars, so many people.

  “Wow, I knew it was a big wedding, but damn, did they invite all of Texas?”

  “Pretty much.” We get waved through security, and I direct Gramps straight to the back of the chapel. Kurt will probably be in one of the anterooms with his groomsmen. Gramps wrenches the hand break and I get a flash of sweat coating my brow and wipe it with a tissue from the dash.

  Gramps takes my trembling hand. “You okay, angel?”

  “Is yes and not really, an answer?” Stilted laughter falls from my dry mouth.

  “Well, you don’t have much time to change your mind,” he offers, and I’m instantly shaking my head. The only thing worse than what I’m about to do is not doing what I’m about to do.

  “I’m not changing my mind, it’s just…look!” I point at the crowds of guests milling on the lawn, all ready to be summoned for the great event.

  “You got this angel and I’ll be waiting here for the getaway.” Gramps pats my hand and leans over to open the door for me. I think my hands would slip on the handle, they are so sweaty. I jump down and start to walk away. Spinning before I take another step.

  “Maybe keep the engine running,” I mouth. He salutes and offers a warm encouraging smile, mouthing the words ‘you got this’ one more time. Yeah, I do.

  The main nave is empty, beautifully decorated with a thousand roses and ribbons. I scurry down the edge and try one of the rooms that leads off to the side of the chapel. The heavy oak door creaks, echoing off the vaulted ceiling and making sure everyone in the small anteroom turns when I try to slip in.

  “There she is!” Kurt’s best man, Scott, shouts, making me jump.

  “Fuck, Buttercup, Momma is about to have a heart attack. Why aren’t you ready? You should be getting ready.” He rushes to me, grabs my forearms and gives me a little shake. His nostrils are flared, and I think whatever job his friends have been doing to keep him calm has not been working.

  “Kurt we need to talk.”

  “The fuck we do!”

  “I’m not getting ready. I’m not marrying you today or any day. I don’t love you.”

  “Guys, can you leave us a moment?” Scott and Kurt’s brother, Chet, cast glances at each other before walking to the door. “Wait, Chet, go and get the dress from Momma, bring it here.”

  “Kurt,” I say, panic pitching my voice, pain shooting up my arms where his fingertips are boring into my flesh. Chet hesitates on the threshold, looking at me and then Kurt.

  “Just go, Chet. Scott, lock the door.” Scott nods and they both hustle out of the room leaving Kurt and me alone. I’m just praying it’s so I can talk some sense into him. His eyes are wild and empty, and I think sense is the last thing on his mind.

  “You’ve said this already, Buttercup. It’s getting pretty fucking boring.” His eyes narrow, his lips thin, and the words are snarled, thickly coated with indifference and venom. I shuck out of his hold and try to get some distance. I rub the marks on my upper arms, trying to get the chill from my body. It can’t be this cold in here, yet my body temperature is as icy as the glare he’s laying on me. I can see he’s shut down. He’s never really listened; why should today be any different?

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” The sarcastic tone couldn’t be anymore laden. “The truth does tend to get a bit repetitive, what with it being the truth ’n’ all.” Steadying my voice and breathing slowly, I try and calm myself. This isn’t the time to go over old issues. I just need to explain it’s over. I swallow and straighten myself, square up to him as he begins to stalk toward me. “I’ve told Gramps, and he doesn’t care about the farm. He only cares about me being happy, something one would think my future husband would care about.”

  He forces me to take a step back and doesn’t stop until I hit the wall. “I see,” he says, his eyes boring right through me. His chest rises with eerily calm deep breaths.

  “Kurt, say something.”

  I keep looking at the old school clock on the far wall. That can’t be right? Why did I say noon? Why not two or three? Why did I give myself so little time?

  The silence is scary, oppressive, and I nearly jump out of my skin when there’s a loud thump on the door. Kurt walks over, the door unlocks, and my dress is pushed through the small gap along with my shoes.

  “Kurt, baby. Is everything all right?” Kurt’s mother sing-songs his name through the door. It’s too high and squeaky to be anything other than completely apoplectic with worry.

  “Everything is perfect, Momma. You get the guests seated, Buttercup wants to get herself ready.” He looks at me, the smile that creeps across his mouth is nothing but evil.

  “Are you sure? What about her hair, make-up?” Deborah rattles the door handle.

  “Momma, she doesn’t need any help. Just let me know when the preacher is ready.”

  “He’s been ready for over an hour, Kurt. All the guests are asking questions.”

  “It’s just been delayed a little is all. Tell them we had a possum in the chapel or something. It’s no big deal. The wedding is happening. It’s just an hour late.”

  “Okay, Kurt, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure Momma. It’s going to be perfect.”

  “Kurt, you’re insane!” I cry out, and in a flash, he’s slammed me back against the wall with his body, his hand slapped across my mouth. He glares at me, his eyes smiling, clearly taking pleasure from the way my body is shaking. He’s too strong for me to push him away, but I manage to twist my head enough to speak, plead.

  “Kurt, you don’t have to do this. Even if you make me marry you today, I’ll be filing for divorce first thing tomorrow.”

  Throwing his head back he barks out a hollow laugh. “You think I’ll let you out of my sight, darlin’? You think for one moment my father would allow a divorce in the family? You clearly don’t know the Masons very well. A funeral maybe, but never a divorce.” Menace and laugher echo off the walls.

  “Kurt? You’re scaring me.”

  “And you’re testing my last fucking nerve. Put the fucking dress on, Buttercup. Here, let me help you.” He grabs the front of my summer dress and rips it down the front. The material stings my skin before it tears into shreds. He pulls the straps of my bra off my shoulder.

  “Kurt, please.” My voice chokes, tears streaming, as I try and fight him. Thumping his solid shoulders, his hair is too short to grab; however, I manage to scratch his cheek, which makes him to stop for several ominous seconds. He wipes the spot of blood on to the back of his hand and lifelessly
licks it clean. This isn’t happening.

  He attacks, furious and feral. My bra snaps from the force of him yanking it from my body. He pulls my panties down my legs. Naked, I’m shaking. I can’t stand to look at him but I can’t look away either. I don’t recognize what I’m seeing.

  Who is this person?

  Who is this monster?

  He tugs my wedding dress from the hanger, roughly opens the bodice, and drops it on the floor, open for me to step into.

  “Please Kurt, don’t do this.” Clamping my legs together, I yelp when he thrusts his knee between them, slams his foot down and roughly kicks my legs wide. His hand is on my throat, and the hollow pits of pure evil staring back at me immobilize me with pure terror. My eyes widen when my periphery fills with the sight of his hunting knife. The blade gleams, reflects a shard of light in his dead eyes. He replaces the hand at my throat with the tip of the blade and steps back. He draws the blade down the center of my body as he drops to crouch in front of me, the knife now resting in the dip of my belly button. For the first time in this insane situation I’m filled with real fear. I honestly believe this man would rather see me dead than refuse to marry him.

  With his free hand, he picks up one leg and then the other placing it into the dress like I’m a reluctant child. He manages to pull it into place without tearing the delicate fabric, despite the fury and anger rolling off him in tidal waves. He spins me to face the wall and starts to button up the back. I can’t believe this is happening. “Please Kurt, please stop.”

  “I do love hearing you beg, B, but you know what I love more?”

  “Yourself.” He pulls me back to face him only to strike my face with his palm, hard enough to slam my head back against the wall.

  “I love that it doesn’t make a fucking bit of difference.” His hand is rough on my skin, grabbing my breasts and squeezing beyond the point of pain. I clench my jaw tight to stop myself from crying out. I won’t give him the satisfaction. The tears dry in my eyes. I see where this is going. He wants me to beg him to stop; he’s enjoying my pain, and wants to break me. He’s not ever going to stop.

  “Feel this, B,” He grinds his erection against me, one hand fumbling with the zipper on his pants, and using the other to force his way between my legs. He drops the knife in his urgency and I struggle with the last of my fight to break free. “Fuck waiting for tonight; I’m taking what’s mine, now.”

  “No!” Patty screams. Her face bobs up over his shoulder, and now I can focus. I’d slipped into another place, and her shocked cry brought me back.

  The telltale click of a round being chambered in a gun is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard next to my Grampa saying, “Step back, son. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  Kurt starts to steps back, and I rush forward, hitch my dress and, barefoot, kick him in the balls. The impact isn’t what I’d hoped, and I wish I had my steel capped cowboy boots because he wouldn’t be left cradling his package with a strange twist to his face like he is now. He’d be on his knees, his hands soaked in blood, crying over the demise of his genitalia.

  Looking over to Patty and Gramps I can now see where they came from. There’s a small hatch open on the floor in the corner behind a small desk. It must lead to the basement.

  “You don’t want to do that.” Kurt holds his hands up, turns away from me and faces my Grampa. Patty rushes to me and leads me over toward the hatch.

  “Actually, Kurt, seeing what I just saw, I want to do that very much. But if I shoot you now, my granddaughter won’t have the time she needs to get out of here, what with all the fuss it will make.” Gramps holds the gun steady, aimed at where Kurt’s heart should be. He walks over to me and I wrap my thankful arms around his chest.

  “She won’t get far!” Kurt blurts.

  “Are you okay?” Gramps sweeps my hair from my face. I nod, even as tears spring in my eyes.

  “How did you know?”

  “I knew something was wrong when I saw the dress being carried from the big house. Patty saw me in my truck and came over. I told her I thought something was up.” Patty hugs me from the side, her eyes filled with relief. It’s still not a fraction of the relief I feel.

  “I overheard some of the groomsmen laughing about Kurt having flipped, they said he had you locked in a room. One of them is still standing guard so I had a look around. These old buildings always have a basement. We just got lucky.”

  “So lucky. I’m so thankful, but it’s too late.” The well inside me swells with a fresh wave of despair.

  “You really believe that?” Gramps shakes his head, sucking his lips like he’s holding onto some secret.

  Patty hands me her keys, her voice too low to carry farther than the three of us. “Here, take my car. It’s a rental, and I sure as shit ain’t gonna tell them the name of the agency so it should slow them down.”

  “You’ll need to keep to the back roads, stay off the interstate, because they will try and come after you.” Grampa’s warning tone isn’t really necessary.

  I nod and know I should be moving, yet panic has me rooted to the spot. “I don’t have anything with me, not my phone, no credit card, no cash, I’ve got nothing.”

  “Here take mine.” Patty rummages in her purse, hands me two credit cards and a fistful of cash. “Draw all the cash you can, as soon as you can. Do it in town and then don’t use them again unless it’s an emergency.” Her hands clasp around mine. She kisses my cheek.

  Gramps fishes out what cash he has in his pocket and hands it to me. I hug his neck and kiss his weathered cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now go and get out of Texas.”

  “Like this?” I hold the wedding dress and exchange looks with Patty and Gramps.

  “Even if we were the same size, time’s not on your side, babe.” Patty shrugs and honestly her skin-tight purple silk strapless dress and wrap are hardly anymore practical than the dress I’m wearing.

  “I’ll keep him here as long as I can, but you’ll still only have an hour head start, tops. You want to waste that getting a change of clothes?” He rolls his eyes and I tip a one-finger salute. Priorities. Lifting the hatch, I drop down, bundling all the material of my dress and squishing it through the hatch.

  The clock is ticking.

  Home

  “Pink!” Finn screams, drops her phone and hurtles toward me. A blur of blonde hair and multi-colored pj’s.

  “Hey, darlin’.” I grunt at the force of the hug. I don’t think she’s ever going to let go. I need this. She starts to sniff and cough, and when I release her, she waves the stench of my long drive away from her nostrils.

  “Ew, when did you last take a shower?” She grimaces.

  “I’ve been driving for nineteen hours straight, so that long, at least.” I shut the door and drop my duffle bag just inside the entrance.

  “You look like shit.” Charge appears behind me.

  “Good to see you too, brother.”

  “Telling it like it is, is all. Good to see you, man. Where’s the fawn?” I share a quick, rough man hug, patting his back before breaking apart.

  “Good to see you too, Charge. I dropped Daisy at the stables, put her in one of the foal stalls, she settled pretty quick. Probably as tired as I am. I’ll check on her later. Where are Tug and Tox?” I drag my hand through my short, dirty hair and try to rub some of the exhaustion from my face. It doesn’t work; nothing’s going to help.

  “Out with Max,” Finn says, brushing off the conversation for another time. She’s so damn happy, she can’t keep still. She’s clapping her hands excitedly, bouncing on her toes, and beaming at Charge and me like a loon. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god, I can’t believe you’re back. You are back, right? I mean, for good?”

  “So it would seem.” My throat bobs with a slow swallow, and I have to close my eyes before the sadness welling inside me flashes for all to see. I’m not ready to share.

  “Well, don’t sound so damn pleased about it,” Charge quips, as
I walk between him and Finn and head toward the stairs.

  “Pleased is the last thing I am,” I mutter low and barely audible.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Finn catches my hand before I reach the first step and stops me dead.

  “It’s complicated, darlin’, and I’m beat. I need to crash, maybe sleep for a month.” My hand slips from hers to grab the banister rail, and it feels like I’m having to drag the weight of the world with me as I take each heavy step up the stairs.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Finn calls out, exchanging worried looks with Charge.

  “Talking ain’t gonna fix this. It’s a done deal.” My cryptic comment echoes as defeated as my tone.

  “Whenever you’re ready, you know we’re here for you,” Finn calls out. I know it must be killing her to not rush after me. It helps that Charge has a firm grip on her shoulder, preventing her from doing just that.

  “And that’s why I’m home.”

  “Take your time, man,” Charge says, and I give him a two-fingered salute, before disappearing down the corridor.

  I had a shower and laid on the bed until sunrise. I haven’t been able to close my eyes without seeing her face. Haven’t been able to think of anything without feeling her skin beneath my fingertips, and my heart hurts so fucking much it’s taking all my effort to take one breath after another. I slip a t-shirt and some sweat pants on. I’ve eaten nothing but junk food for two days, only stopping at shitty rest stops to make sure Daisy got the chance to eat and drink something. I’m still not hungry, but the smell of coffee has me on autopilot, heading downstairs to the kitchen. Charge is probably up, but it’s still too early for the others.

  I freeze at the top of the stairs and smile. Finn is curled up on the bottom step, a blanket draped over her and a pillow tucked under her cheek.

  I pause halfway down the stairs. “Did you sleep at all? You’re never up at this time.”

  “I may have been here a while. I’m a little happy you’re back.” Rubbing her eyes, she stretches out the stiffness, arching her back until it pops.