Going All In

by Alannah Lynne

  He’d watched her closely throughout the afternoon, and there weren’t any indications that Gavin meant more to her than a good friend. But then again, she hadn’t acted like someone with thirty million dollars, either.

  She doesn’t use it.

  And Miranda sure as hell hadn’t acted like someone who’d been cheating for months. Fuck. He drilled his fist into the dashboard of his truck and growled with frustration.

  That right there was the crux of all his problems. Every fucking time, no matter the subject, he always ended up on this same damned road.

  He was well beyond his romantic feelings for Miranda, and if she showed up on the beach in front of his house and begged him for another chance, he’d run inside as fast his legs would carry him and deadbolt the door behind him. But he still carried so much other garbage, he didn’t stand a chance of making a relationship work until he’d unloaded the unresolved resentments and constant distrust.

  He parked in his gravel driveway, walked around to the front of his tiny one-story, two-bedroom house, and lit up the patio fire pit. The sky was clear and glittered with a million stars. The wind was light, so he didn’t have to worry about the fire or blowing embers, and the soft, easy-rolling waves created a soothing cadence. It was a perfect night to purge the past.

  Once he was sure the fire would continue to burn, he went inside to gather the trash. He took a shoebox off the top shelf of the hall closet, set it on top of the large box sitting on the floor beneath it, and carried both through the living room, out the front door, across the screen porch, and onto the patio where the fire had grown good and hot.

  He was tempted to go back in the house for a beer, but he wanted a clear head for this. No drowning any of it out tonight. It was past time to fully feel… to deal… and hopefully to finally heal.

  As soon as he cracked open the top of the large box, a wave of Miranda’s perfume slapped him in the face. The smell caused a rush of memories to assault him, leaving an uncomfortable ache in his stomach and a familiar pang in his chest. But after sneezing a couple times, he realized he never really liked her perfume. He’d always found it oddly comforting because its bold and spicy scent was perfect for Miranda and the smell always made him think of her when she wasn’t around. But by itself… blech.

  After sneezing a couple more times, he began sorting through the remaining bits and pieces of their life together… sticky notes… scraps of paper pulled off the edges of larger sheets… origami animals… photos. Since they hadn’t lived in the same town, they spent a lot of time traveling back and forth between Riverside and Myrtle Beach. She didn’t work, so most of the time she came to him. He usually left for work before she woke and always before she left, and when he came home, he’d often find love notes stuck to the mirror, on the beer in the fridge, tucked into the blankets, or under his pillow.

  And like a fucking pussy, he’d kept them all.

  Everything in the box was supposed to be a symbol of her love for him, and she almost always told him how much she looked forward to spending her life with him. Since the breakup, he’d often wondered if she photocopied the shit and left the same note at all her boyfriends’ houses.

  A sad smile touched his lips as he took out the pictures from their visit to Tyler’s the summer before the wedding. She stood beside him, arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him on the cheek while looking at the camera. The smile fell from his face as he stared into her eyes, once again searching for something… anything that should’ve clued him in to her unfaithfulness.

  He’d gone over that trip too many times to count, trying to recall a missed red flag… something in her voice… odd expressions on her face… secretive phone calls. It sure as shit hadn’t been evident when she curled up with him at night and screwed his brains out. Even Tyler had a hard time believing the truth because Miranda had been the perfect fiancée, saying and doing all the right things to make everyone believe she was as crazy in love as Wade.

  So how could he have known? How did a man protect himself when there weren’t any outward signs of deceit?

  That’s what scared him the most. Callie was sitting on thirty million dollars, yet he naively thought she was as poor as him. Hell, he thought she was worse off than him because she was eating ramen noodles, for fuck’s sake.

  How could a man trust anyone to be as they seemed?

  How can a woman? A small gentle voice echoed in his head.

  He thought back to Kevin and Sam’s rocky start. Jesus, talk about reasons not to trust. Kevin had been involved with someone else when he met Sam—and there weren’t any misunderstandings or claiming things weren’t as they seemed.

  They were exactly as they seemed. He was involved with Lizbeth and before ending the relationship, he started seeing Sam. Yet Sam somehow found a way to forgive Kevin and to trust him, despite the evidence against him.

  Wade knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Kevin would never, ever cheat on Sam. She was his world, and he’d never do anything to break her trust. So obviously, sometimes the risk was worth the reward, but…

  Shit. How?

  He dropped his elbows to his knees and buried his face in his hands. Sam was obviously stronger than him, because he just didn’t know how to get to that place she’d found with Kevin.

  With a heavy sigh, he scooped up the scattered contents, put the pile back in the box, and dropped the whole thing into the middle of the fire. Ash and flames flashed and scattered, displaced by the weight of the box. He flopped down into his old and worn Adirondack chair and watched his past slowly ignite, then burn and lift off into the night sky as either smoke or flickering flecks. When very little remained, he leaned over and picked up the small shoebox from beside his chair and set it on his lap.

  It weighed less than a pound, but the contents held him down like a thousand-pound tether. He flicked off the lid and stared at the cream invitation with its engraved lettering and black bow, then shifted his gaze to the small gray jewelry box.

  The day she broke the engagement had been a nightmare and, until recently, he hadn’t even realized he was still sleepwalking through it. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and went back to that day.

  He’d spent hours the night before trying to reach her by phone, text, and social media. Her phone kept going straight to voicemail, and she wouldn’t reply to any of his texts or messages. He’d barely slept for worrying himself sick, and when he finally reached her the next morning, his relief had been extreme. And short-lived. Her response was short, simple, to the point, and devastating. I’m fine, Wade. Look… I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.

  She disconnected the call without another word, leaving him confused, numb, and frozen to his office chair. When he finally regained some of his sense, he tried calling her back, but she refused his calls. Shortly after, Lizbeth called to ask what was going on because Miranda had just announced to the family that the wedding was off.

  He’d been in such a state of shock and disbelief, and firmly entrenched in denial, he hadn’t said a word to Kevin or any of the guys on his crew. He put his phone in his pocket, got up from his desk, and went back to work as if nothing had happened. That evening, he drove to Riverside.

  An hour later, he was back on the road with an unwanted engagement ring—he didn’t want it back; she didn’t want to keep it—and an eviscerated heart.

  He swallowed the lump of emotion that accompanied the memories and took the ring from the box. Moving it around so it caught the light, the facets sparkled and glittered in the darkness of night. A full carat wasn’t a tiny stone, but probably wouldn’t compare to the one she’d eventually end up with.

  How many carats would thirty million buy?

  He laughed and shook his head. Nope… couldn’t make sense of it by going that route either.

  His practical side wouldn’t allow him to toss the ring into the fire, so until he figured out a good use for it, he tucked it back into the velvet case and slipped the box into his shirt pocket.


  He didn’t know why he’d kept the invitation, but there certainly wasn’t a need to torture himself any longer. What could’ve, should’ve, would’ve been with Miranda was over. He didn’t even want to go back, but he’d been stuck in the same damned rut for so long, he hadn’t even realized he’d given up hope of ever getting out.

  Until Callie came along and showed him things could be good again.

  He circled his hand over his aching chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He only possessed the emotional capacity to handle one problem at a time, and tonight his focus was letting go of everything from the past… and that needed to include the past week with Callie. Tomorrow, depending on what she said and how he felt about it, they might be able to start again. Tonight, he was wiping the slate of his life clean.

  He took the invitation out of the box, folded the crisp, linen paper into an airplane, and launched it into the flames with perfect precision. The fancy paper curled at the edges, like it was trying to escape the heat of the flames, then burst into a brilliant tiny fireball. He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the waves roll onshore and the remnants of his life with Miranda turn to ash, but by the time the flames settled to simmering embers, he felt better. The weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, and he took the first deep breath he’d had in a year.

  How to get past the trust issue with Callie remained a mystery, but he’d agreed to hear her out—something he would’ve done even without Kevin’s interference—so he’d start there and see where it led.

  As he laid his head back and looked down his body at the flames, the box in his pocket caught his attention. It might’ve been bad luck for him, but there had to be someone who could use the thing for good…

  As his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep, an image of Mercy floated through his mind. His eyes popped wide and he bolted upright in his chair. She could sell the ring and use the money to finish school. If she took him up on his offer to stay in his spare bedroom, she wouldn’t have to pay rent or utilities. She could work less, a lot less, and double up on her classes to finish sooner. Then she could quit beating herself up for doing what she’d needed to do to survive and move on with her life.

  Getting her to agree wouldn’t be easy, but he’d always believed a strong will and determination could move mountains. She was stubborn, but not as bad as him.

  He smiled as he thought about the call from Kevin. He’d shut Callie down all day, yet she’d still managed to find a way around him to get what she wanted.

  Mercy had met her match with Wade, but he might’ve met his match with Callie.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Callie double-checked her GPS to confirm her location and make sure she was headed in the direction of Byron’s Marina, then tightened her grip on the wheel and squinted, trying to get a clearer look at the road through the thick marine fog. It wasn’t lost on her that Wade only gave her the name of the marina and a time, not an address or directions, but when someone extended an olive branch, you didn’t demand they hand over the whole tree.

  She’d been so relieved and grateful he was open to seeing her, she’d immediately searched the location and plugged the information into her GPS, then spent the entire night on her couch, staring at the ceiling, rehearsing the upcoming conversation. No matter how many times she practiced, though, when it came time to actually get it right, she’d probably end up rambling and babbling and nothing would come out as planned.

  After another half mile, she sighed with relief as a yellow-and-red sign reading BYRON’S MARINA appeared through the mist. Now that she’d found the right location and no longer needed to focus on her driving, nervous anxiety about the rest of the day burst from her stomach and escaped through her fingertips.

  Not only was she nervous about seeing Wade and the way the conversation would go, but she’d never been on a small boat—large yachts cruising around the bay didn’t count—nor had she been out in the open waters of the ocean. As her overactive imagination conjured images of giant sea creatures and capsized ships, panic enveloped her, forcing her to slam on the brakes at the entrance to the parking lot and draw in several deep breaths so she didn’t pass out. Or throw up.

  I can do this. I can do this. Everything will be fine. Tyler does this sort of thing all the time. If it were too dangerous, Wade wouldn’t go. I can do this. Take one more deep breath, ease into the parking lot, put on a happy face, thank Wade for allowing you the opportunity to go with them, and get your butt on the boat without collapsing.

  Following her own directives, she drew in a deep breath, then another for good measure, took her foot off the brake, and coasted into the parking lot. Wade was standing next to his truck, gathering things from the backseat. When she pulled into the space next to him, he glanced over his shoulder, revealing mild curiosity about who’d parked four feet from his butt, but other than that, he gave away nothing.

  In a brief flash of sensible clarity, she imagined restarting her car, driving home, and crawling back into her nice, warm bed to get the sleep she’d missed out on last night. But she’d come this far, and she wasn’t turning back now. He might not be thrilled to see her, but he was going to listen to what she had to say. Then, as Gavin pointed out, if he wouldn’t accept her apology, they didn’t have a future anyway.

  She cursed the nerves choking her as she grabbed her raincoat and a blanket from the backseat. The temperature was supposed to climb closer to normal today, putting them in the mid-sixties, but the forecast also called for rain in the afternoon. She didn’t know how long they’d be out, but she wanted to be prepared in case the weather turned bad. With a deep breath, she shoved open the door, pasted on a confident smile, and exited her car.

  “You found it.” Wade’s tone was ultra-cool, ultra-conservative, and he still showed no signs of being glad to see her as he slung a large duffel bag over his shoulder and reached into the truck for another bag.

  Her confidence slipped a little, and she kicked a rock with the toe of her shoe. “Is that a good thing or not?”

  He sighed and cocked his head while studying her with unreadable eyes. “I don’t know yet. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  His response wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, but at least he was willing to talk—which was more than he offered yesterday. “Fair enough. Thanks for letting me go with you guys.” She hung her purse and coat over her shoulder and wrapped the blanket over the same arm, freeing up a hand. “Can I help you carry anything?”

  “Naw,” he said, grabbing another bag from the truck. “I’ve got it. But thanks.”

  While he was at least speaking to her, the normal warmth of his eyes was missing, as was the easygoing, flirtatious banter she’d grown so used to. She shivered against his chilly reception and the cold wind blowing off the water and hunkered down deeper into her coat. This was either the bravest or dumbest thing she’d ever done and ranked right up there with telling her father she and Gavin had screwed him over. That night hadn’t gone well at all and had almost gotten Gavin and Sunny killed.

  Please, God, let this day go better.

  She followed Wade across the gravel parking lot and down the wooden pier to the boat at the end of the dock, where Tyler and Alex stood waiting. The boat had a flat bottom and open deck. The front half, where the captain sat, was covered; the back half was open. A row of air tanks lined the left side; a couple of benches ran along the right. Several duffel bags, similar to Wade’s, lay in the center of the boat, and one of them was open, revealing a wetsuit and a pair of flippers.

  She cut her gaze to Wade’s bags and used her nonexistent X-ray vision, trying to see inside. She hadn’t gotten the impression he was diving, but maybe he’d changed his mind. Or maybe he brought his equipment with him so if he became desperate for an escape, he could go overboard.

  Stop it.

  She shook her head and drove back the negative thoughts. He’d given her the right time and place. Now it was up to her to make sure he
didn’t regret his decision.

  “Hey, Callie,” Tyler said, reaching out a hand to help her board. “How’s it going?”

  She had no way of knowing how much Wade shared with his friends, but she’d made it clear the other night she didn’t do boats. Ignoring their personal drama, she spoke to her individual fears. “I haven’t thrown up yet, so I’d say we’re off to a great start.”

  Tyler laughed and pulled her into a quick hug, and she found herself ducking, half expecting him to rub his knuckles over her head in a noogie. “I’m glad you decided to come with us and give it a try. You’ll have a great time.”

  “What?” she shrieked and shook her head emphatically while backing away from him. “I’m not—”

  She realized Wade’s scowl had given way to a grin, and Alex was also laughing. Her muddled brain finally caught on to Tyler’s teasing tone, and she collapsed onto the bench at the back of the boat with relief. She might not be one of the guys, but they’d certainly accepted her into the fold and were treating her like one.

  “You have a dry suit?” Alex asked Wade as he took one of his bags off his shoulder and added it to the pile.

  “Hell no. I don’t dive enough for that fancy shit. I have a regular old wetsuit, and I don’t intend to use it.” He gave Tyler a pointed look. “I’m just here to ride and keep you out of trouble. I figured if I was tagging along, though, it made sense to bring my gear.”

  Tyler shook his head and sipped on his coffee. “Dude, you really need to relax and stop worrying so much. Everything’s gonna be great. We’ve got the magnetometer.” He pointed to a white-and-yellow device that looked like an arrow on steroids. “The weather is looking good for this morning. We’re gonna find that fucking boat, and then I’m going to be able to tell you, ‘Told ya so!’” He slapped Wade on the shoulder and turned to Alex. “We ready to roll?”

  “We’re ready.” To Callie, Alex said, “Sit up here next to me. We’re enclosed so you shouldn’t get wet, but…” He cocked his head to the side and studied her from the corner of his eye. “Do you really get seasick?”