by Jillian Neal
Had this dress been this tight when she’d picked it out? She was certain she was going to vomit, but that was just nerves. Wasn’t it?
A knock on the door jerked her attention away from searching for Jamie’s truck. “Delivery for Charlotte Tilson.” A man dressed in a cap and florist’s apron held up a bouquet of alabaster white lilies.
“Well, wasn’t that thoughtful?” Charlie’s stepmother, Louann, commented. Was Charlie the only one who thought she didn’t sound very sincere? She’d never known her stepmother to fib. Her father wouldn’t have allowed it.
Louann set the lilies down on the antique vanity table and handed Charlie the card. I can’t wait to start our lives together— Ed. She managed the words, “It was thoughtful,” before she had to stop speaking lest she have to race to the bathroom. She hated lilies. They smelled like death. The funeral home had been filled with the dreadful flowers the day of her mother’s burial, and she’d hated them ever since.
They were Ed’s favorite, however. Charlie had vetoed them across the board for the wedding flowers. Was this some kind of passive-aggressive dig about that? Ed could be whiny when he didn’t get his way, so maybe.
She rushed back to her post by the window. As she passed her younger sister, Becca, she formed her hands into a ring like you’d use to choke someone and made the same shaking motion. She’d been doing that with regularity ever since Ed and Charlie had announced their engagement. “You’re going to regret this every day for the rest of your life,” she whispered yet again.
Charlie had stopped arguing several months ago. Her sister never wanted to get married. Men were entirely too controlling according to Becca. Charlie didn’t necessarily agree with that, so she’d assumed she didn’t agree with Bec’s opinion of Ed. He was a good man. He really was. He took such good care of her patients at the Pecan Crescent Nursing Home where she was the occupational therapist and he was the chaplain. He was kind, and generous, and somewhat patient…and boring.
“It’s almost time for us to go down.” Louann’s reminder shattered the tense moment. “Can I help you with your veil first, sweetheart?”
She held up the lace-adorned tiara.
If she put that thing on Charlie’s head, she knew she would somehow suffocate through the lace. “No. It’s okay. I can do it. Thank you, though.”
Louann nodded and draped the lace across one of the old wingback chairs in the room. She took Charlie’s hands. “I remember when I was marrying your daddy and both of you girls.” The faraway look in her lovely blue eyes made Charlie smile her first smile of the day. That couldn’t be a good sign, either, but it was true. Louann had insisted that Becca and Charlie both have their own wedding dresses because she wanted them to know that they were just as important to her as their father was. As stepmoms went, she was pretty much the greatest. “I couldn’t wait to get down that aisle.” She chuckled. “I signaled to the organist to speed up the processional so that we could get on with ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ It’s still that way now too. I can’t wait for your daddy to come home from the church. I look for him whenever we’re apart.” She squeezed Charlie’s hands. “He’s my very best friend. I think that’s the secret to what makes marriage work. Think about that while you’re up there today.”
“I will,” Charlie tried to assure her, but she needed to sit down. All of the blood in her face was making a rapid transit to her feet. Was that some kind of warning? She watched her stepmom and her sister slip out the door, with a final mouthed, “Don’t do this,” from Becca.
Charlie was sure she just had cold feet. That was it. Everyone did this while they got ready to go down the aisle. Didn’t they? Ed probably felt the same way. Maybe he won’t show. She had no control over her thoughts at this point.
As she stared out the window again willing Jamie’s truck to appear, her eyes landed on the nearby cemetery. Her mother’s grave was back in Oklahoma City, but the headstones in her vision weighted her with their cold, heavy silence just the same.
It had been more than two decades since the fire, and she still wished for her mother at least once a week. She loved Louann, of course, but Charlie suspected that her mom would’ve been able to tell that she was completely freaking out.
Her eyes trailed down the lattice trellis right outside the window.
Where was he? Jamie was the only person still on the planet who could calm her down, who always said exactly what she needed to hear, who knew she was coming unglued. She was officially unglued. Why wasn’t he here yet? She refused to walk down the aisle without him there.
Again, her mind centered in on the first part of the sentence—refused to walk down the aisle. Why did that sound so utterly appealing, like a lifeline to her when she was drowning in lace and invitations and silk and…lilies? Ugh. But Charlie was the ever-reliable sister. Unless it involved Jamie, she did what her father expected. Becca was the wild child. Not Charlie. Never her.
Her eyes flitted from the parking lot for a moment to take in the dated room surrounding her. Deep teal-and-maroon-striped wallpaper looked frighteningly like prison bars. The bookshelves that lined one wall held small single-bud flower vases. Since Charlie’s father had gotten Ed a job at a church in Odell so he could leave the nursing home, which he didn’t love the way Charlie always had, Ed had been helping her father out around the church.
One of his current jobs was to handle all the flowers for the church. He’d hand selected the ones in those vases as well. He must’ve been distracted with all of his jobs lately, because every single flower was withered and dried. They still held color, but their stems were brittle. One touch and they would fall apart. Charlie hated that she recognized herself in them.
That’s what he wants. He wants to stick me in a vase at his new church and let me wither as long as I keep up appearances. She shook that disturbing thought from her head.
From her vantage point, she watched two of her favorite residents from Pecan Crescent Nursing Home being helped up the church steps by Trisha, her fellow OT. Mrs. Garcia was so excited about the wedding. If Charlie didn’t go down the aisle, would it disappoint her?
Wait. Was she really considering not going down the aisle?! Being an OT was the single most satisfying thing in Charlie’s life. She loved her patients, even if they occasionally didn’t like her because of what she encouraged them to do in order to retain skills. Pride overlaid her nerves for a brief moment. Should she love her job more than she loves her fiancé? Was that normal? Dear God, she had no idea. She’d never even thought of it before that moment. It wasn’t normal to rank things in your life. She was being insane.
Ed had wanted her to quit and start a family. Charlie’s last day had been the day before and she was still sick over giving up her job. Trinity Church, where he’d just gotten a new job, expected her to be the subdued, submissive pastor’s wife, just like her mother—only her mother had never been submissive.
Deep breaths. She tried to breathe, remembering to draw air into her belly and not just her lungs to help ease the anxiety. Big, huge mistake. She flew to the vanity, grabbed the vase of flowers, and dropped them into the trash can in the restroom. Then she slammed the door shut, trying to shut away the fragrance, the sorrow, every single thing she was feeling.
She had to get out of there. In moving the bouquet she’d released the toxic stench. She couldn’t stand the smell. Death and weddings had always been diametrically opposed in her book, until they weren’t. She had to get away from both.
Her instincts took over. She had to survive. And survival came with clean air to breathe, and that was anywhere outside of the tiny church where she’d been a leader in the youth group, a Sunday School teacher, and the role that had defined her entire life—the preacher’s daughter.
If she was going to do this, if she was going to be able to breathe ever again, she had to execute this perfectly. Grabbing her purse, she checked to make certain it contained her inhaler. Then she took her toiletry bag. She wasn’t certain when she
was going to stop once she got to her car, but it was going to be a long, long time. Deodorant and a hair brush were necessities.
Timing her exit, she watched from the window as the last few guests made their arrivals. The church doors were sealed. She eased the window open, stuck her head out, and inhaled deeply. Thankfulness and possibility rushed into her lungs.
She set the two bags on the roof and shoved. They rolled and bumped along to the gutter. Gathering the skirt of her dress in her hands, she wiggled her butt up onto the sill and managed to get one leg out and then the other.
Chapter Two
Charlie scooted to the gutter. She was supposed to walk down the aisle in six minutes. The first chords of Nocturne No. 2 were playing. They’d be seating Ed’s grandparents now. That’s what they’d practiced the night before over and over and over again until she’d wanted to scream.
With her will to survive still running the show, she shimmied to the lattice work on the side of the church away from the stained-glass windows. Wedging the toe of her high heel in the lattice, she began her descent. She’d explain to Ed later. Perhaps when she understood herself. She still half prayed that he’d had a change of heart as well. That would be so much less awkward.
Holder County gossip hens would have a field day with it still, but at least that way no one would really be hurt. She didn’t want to hurt Ed. She just also didn’t want to marry him. Her father would be so disappointed in her. That was the only thing that gave her pause, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop.
She took another step down, lowering herself to freedom, and god it smelled so good. Moving faster now, she made it another few feet, and then accidentally stepped on the dress and wedged it inside the lattice. The sound of tearing fabric alerted her to the misstep.
Crap. Using the water downspout to secure herself with her hand, she tried to lift her foot and ease the dress out from the lattice and away from her heel that was now anchored in the torn lace.
She tugged with one hand and held tight with the other. And then…the downspout pulled away from the brick building and the lattice work snapped under her weight. She slipped down the next few feet and swung there suspended in midair against brick, held up only by her heel, which was still serving as a tack for her dress. The skirt portion was now up over her face. Everything god had given her was now on display for everyone, and she couldn’t see to figure out how to get down. She fought but was afraid of falling the last fifteen feet to the concrete walkway below.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Everyone’s going to see me like this, not only fleeing my own wedding but wearing entirely see-through white lace panties as well. She’d told herself maybe the panties would inspire Ed to some kind of dominant passion. The ever-present Oklahoma wind teased her butt cheeks as if to make a point. She tried to be thankful that she’d opted not to get a sleeveless wedding gown she’d admired so much, since it would’ve turned completely inside out, and she’d now be naked and sprawled out on the pavement. She never thought she’d actually be thankful for the scarring along her ribcage and breast, but currently she was glad they’d kept her from the other gown. As it was, the long sleeves were saving her life.
Although at that moment, death coming early for her so she would not have to endure this didn’t sound too terrible. Stop being so dramatic.
She could just make out the chug of truck motors, but she was fairly certain that the grim reaper did not drive work trucks. Wagering that it would be better for however many people were in those trucks to see her than it would for the entire freaking town to be witness to this, she decided to burn any pride she’d ever have to the ground and squeaked out a, “Please get me down! Please! Help,” she added hopefully.
The wedding started in ten fucking minutes, and Jamie was just passing the old schoolyard. How the hell had he had more game when he was twelve than he did now? More balls too. At least he’d asked her out back then.
But god she was just so good, so…perfect. And he wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever be. Too much hot-blooded cowboy, too much adrenaline-addicted firefighter, to ever be what Charlie Tilson would need. He was going to endure this stupid ceremony with the flask in his back pocket, and then he was getting out of town for however long his family would let him be without interrupting.
He turned into the church parking lot. Jamie didn’t trust his own vision nearly enough to believe what he could’ve sworn he was seeing with his own eyes. No way. The same adrenaline that made him a kickass firefighter launched him into action. He threw the truck into park in the middle of the gravel lot. No fucking way.
But the pleas for help were undeniably his Charlie. He swallowed hard, but his mouth was once again so dry there was nothing for him to press down his esophagus. Tender red, lace-covered curls, that he’d fantasized about for decades, were on ripe display right along with her perfect ass—almost as pale white as the dress that was only half covering her. She was tangled in a ball of lace.
“Charlie?” He finally managed the single word.
“Oh my god. Jamie!” Thankfulness washed through her tone. “I have to get out of here,” she begged.
His brother, Wes, who’d never made it to church on time once in his life had pulled in behind Jamie. He was surveying the situation and trying not to laugh.
It took Jamie a half beat to remember that he had a ladder in his truck. “Hang on. I’ll get you down.” As he turned to sprint back to his truck, he growled out a warning to his brother, “Do not look at her.”
Wes held up his hands. “Man, get a grip. You need my help. If we don’t get her down, everybody’s gonna see this,” he spoke between his teeth.
Jamie had the ladder leaned up against the church in the next minute. “You hold the ladder, but you fucking look the other way,” he demanded of Wes.
That earned him a complimentary eye roll.
Taking it three rungs at a time, Jamie wrapped his right arm around the most perfect woman in the whole fucking world and cradled her to his body. “I’ve got you,” he soothed. She sat that perfect little ass right in the crook of his arm and he swore he almost came in his suit pants, a problem he hadn’t had since that night when they were sixteen at the Renegade Rodeo and he’d almost kissed her.
He managed to get most of the dress back down to cover what it was supposed to cover, revealing the mass of red curls on top of her head instead of showing off the tender ones that covered what he wished every goddamn day belonged to him.
Her face glowed redder than her hair. She buried her face in his shoulder as he carried them down. “Thank you,” she managed in a horrified gasp.
“Charlie, honey, are you running?” He had to ask, although the answer seemed fairly obvious.
She stared at him like he’d lost any good sense he ever had. “No, I just decided to walk around on the roof and tripped.” She rolled her eyes. Then terror filled those beautiful eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m a horrible person,” she confessed like he was some kind of priest who could absolve her. He was about as far from a priest as you could get.
“No, you’re not. Don’t ever say that. If you don’t want to do this, don’t do it.”
“I just can’t face everyone right now. Please, will you just run away with me for a little while like we did when we were kids? Anywhere. I’ll go anywhere you want that isn’t here.”
Wes and Jamie carried on an entire conversation using only their eyes, as siblings could so often do.
Wes eventually gestured to Jamie’s truck. “Get her out of here. I’ll buy you as much time as I can before they start looking for her.”
“Thank you,” Charlie gushed. “And will you tell Ed I’m sorry if you get a chance?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Jamie still hadn’t fully set her on her feet. He was incapable of removing her body from his arms. It would be like pulling skin from bone.
He scooped her legs back up into his arms and carried her to the truck. As he secured her, Wes saluted hi
m. “Honestly, man, it’s about damned time. Don’t fuck it up, okay?”
Chapter Three
Jamie started to flip his brother off but thought better of it in the church parking lot. What the hell did not fucking this up look like exactly? Just because she was running away from Ed didn’t mean she was running to him. Did it?
No, it definitely didn’t. Every single complication that had ever existed between them was still right there. She didn’t want to have anything to do with anyone who was a firefighter. Her daddy hated him. He didn’t deserve her. And most importantly, they were best friends. What happened to that if anything between them romantically fizzled out? Jamie had seen enough relationships end to know that it occurred with frightening regularity. That was one of the reasons he avoided them.
“Are you sure I’m not evil?” she whispered as he pulled onto the main drag through town.
She was an angel. Charlie and evil didn’t even exist in the same universe in his book. “Would it have been better for you to have gone through with it, hated every minute of today, been miserable the next couple of years until you finally admitted to yourself that you should’ve called it off before it ever got started, and then to have gone through a divorce? No, it wouldn’t. It’ll sting today, but he’ll get over it. He’s a big boy.”
“Maybe there will be someone at his new church he could ask out. They’d make him way happier than I would anyway.”
Seeing her almost butt nekkid hanging from the church had completely sobered him up. Adrenaline coursed through him constantly, and he had no good place to put it to use. As he eyed her seated beside him staring up at him like he was her own personal hero, his cock heartily disagreed with his assessment. “See that. It’s good you left when you did. You’re already trying to fix him up with someone else. That ain’t how love works.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just…I never really saw myself as the runaway bride type. Dad will be furious.”
