Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  And the entire time, all he could think was he should have died with his men. People here at home whispered about how he’d been the lucky one. If they’d suffered half the torment Gage’s memories brought with them, they wouldn’t be so quick to claim him fortunate.

  Gage slowed to a stop when he got to the public park at the center of the running trail along the Animas River. Resting his forearms on the split-rail fence, he bent forward, breathing shallowly, hoping to still his racing heart and panicked thoughts. Fuck. He wished the sun would come out again. The shrouding gloom overhead did nothing to help his dark thoughts. He upped the volume on his iPhone as Run To The Hills started playing. He found the Iron Maiden lyrics particularly fitting.

  The volume lessened slightly, warning him of an incoming text. He didn’t need to look to know it was Elle, worried on his behalf. Terrified he’d taken the final step she was certain he was contemplating. For the record, he wasn’t. The cowardly way out wasn’t for him. The volume increased again and he deliberately ignored the text. He stopped the music playback, rested his forehead on his folded arms, and concentrated on breathing. One problem at a time.

  He needed to get his head on straight and return to being the man Elle had fallen in love with, not the husk of a human startled by every loud noise and too terrified to sleep with the lights off. Too fucking freaked out to nestle against the curve of her body thanks to his sudden angst over tight spaces.

  Pounding footsteps sounded to his right. The rhythmic slap slowed as it approached him. “Gage?”

  He jerked upright, yanked his ear buds free and swiped the sweat and…yes, goddammit…the tears from his cheeks as he spun to greet the owner of the voice. “Hey.”

  Logan Hamilton jogged toward him, a brilliant smile on his face. The same smile he’d had during every single one of their teenage escapades. Like the time they took their dates and drove to the state line for the fireworks they’d used to blow up an abandoned outhouse at the back of Gage’s dad’s ranch. They’d both gotten in deep shit for that prank. Dad had called them the trouble twins.

  Slowing his jog, Logan drew alongside him and stopped. Guilt that he hadn’t called his friend barely made a dent in all the other emotions roiling around Gage’s gut.

  Didn’t seem to bother Logan as much. He pulled Gage into a bear hug. “I heard you were back. Damn good to see you. Welcome home, buddy.” A hearty backslap accompanied the hug. “Sorry I haven’t been over to see you. Didn’t want to overwhelm the returning hero.”

  Hero? More like Logan had heard Gage was avoiding all his old buddies, hiding out, as it were. Stiffly, Gage pulled free. “Thanks.” He didn’t know what else to say. He braced for the inevitable questions about his wartime activities. Everyone asked them.

  “Hey, now you’re back, we could use a shortstop on the baseball team. You up for it?” Logan propped one ankle on the rail and bent his body double, until his ear rested just above his knee. He grabbed his toes, pulling them forward as he eyed Gage.

  “I was stationed—” Hang on. That wasn’t the question he’d anticipated. “Wait, what?”

  Logan switched legs, and began a stretch on the other side of his body. “Our shortstop got transferred to Denver. We need a replacement. You still play, right?”

  “Um...yeah. But things are a little crazy at the moment.”

  “Ah. Getting settled and reacquainted with your lovely fiancée.”

  “More like trying to rescue my relationship before I fuck it up too badly.” What the hell was wrong with him, singing the blues as if Logan gave a shit?

  “Sorry, man.” Logan’s eyes were sympathetic. “I, uh, I read the news reports about what happened over there. I’m sure that fiasco, being apart and dealing with all the shit that comes with deployment hasn’t been easy. For you or Elle.”

  Gage’s short bark of laughter lacked even the smallest hint of humor. “Now I understand why you were named King of the Understatement in the senior year poll.”

  “That’s me. I came, I saw, I understated. I like it. Think I’ll put that on a T-shirt.” Logan owned Words On A Shirt, a tourist shop that sold T-shirts with clever sayings, along with other Durango and Colorado themed merchandise.

  “No doubt it would be a best seller.” Gage’s muscles started tightening up, so he started jogging in place.

  Logan pointed down the path. “Want to go another mile or so? I was going to run the trail behind my house today, but last night’s rain turned everything to mud.”

  Gage shrugged, then nodded. Together, they started at a slow pace down the ribbon of asphalt.

  Logan stayed silent for all of thirty paces. “Listen, I’m not going to ask. I figure it’s in the past, and maybe you prefer it that way. But, if you ever want to talk about it, you know…the whole sandbox experience, kind of hash it out to let it go, you know I’ll bring a six pack and a listening ear.”

  Logan’s words were exactly what Gage needed to hear. His experiences in Iraq sat on his gut like a slow burning seam of anthracite coal…oily, viscous, and never ending. But, sharing those awful forty-three hours with another person…not going to happen. “Thanks,” he grunted.

  “How’s Elle handling all of this?” Logan asked on a pant.

  How was she handling it? He tried to hide his wildly swinging emotions from her by running whenever they threatened to get the best of him. Bleak pride circled his brain over the subterfuge. Then again, Elle was so tied up in planning their wedding maybe she’d missed the flaws and damage he struggled to hide. Damn, he’d never lied to himself before. Concern and fright had taken up permanent residence in her sweet gray eyes. “Happy to have me back, I guess.”

  “Only a guess?”

  “We’re getting reacquainted. I’m not sure she likes the new me. I’m not crazy about the new me, either. I certainly don’t deserve to have her.”

  “Yeah, you do. And she loves you. Always has.”

  That much was true. Gage had grown up with Elle. Knew her when she was a curly-haired moppet. Had witnessed her awkward pre-teen years when she’d been growing into her fabulous body. But he ran with a different crowd than she did. She’d been one of the popular kids in high school, and he’d been a painfully shy geek, a mathlete. She’d been a cheerleader and so damn pretty it had been hard to look at her. Stringing two words together in her presence had all but required divine intervention.

  They’d lost touch during college. He’d gone to the Colorado School of Mines on an Army scholarship, while she’d headed to Colorado State.

  When he moved from active duty to reserve status, he moved back to Durango. Elle had taken a job as a kindergarten teacher right after college. Within weeks of his return to town, Gage had accepted a position with a mining company in the area. He’d been shocked when she’d approached him at a tavern, struck up a conversation and then asked him on a date. When she’d confessed she’d always liked him, well, it was that moment when he’d fallen in love with her.

  Then willy-nilly, the Army had called him out of retirement and redeployed him. It had been a dark day for them. He’d proposed within a week of getting the call.

  “And I’ve always loved her. You know that.”

  Logan cut a sharp glance his way, tripped, but righted himself as they jogged. “I’m hearing a but in there…”

  “But Elle deserves more than what I seem capable of offering right now. I’m…still trapped back in that building and can’t seem to find my center again.” His breath shortened more than mere running should have caused.

  Putting a hand on Gage’s arm, Logan slowed them to a walk. “I don’t want to butt in here, but are you getting help? Talking to anyone? Surely the Army can help.”

  Gage hung his head, studying his feet as they moved down the trail. “I’m supposed to check in with a psychologist here in town.”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “The only VA sanctioned doc in the area is Elle’s dad.”

  “Aw shit, that sucks.”

&nb
sp; Gage bit out a harsh sound—a mixture of grunt and laugh. “Tell me about it. How am I supposed to lie on his couch and tell him what a messed up asshole I’ve become? Shit, I can’t even go back to work right now. Bill Sweeney’s loyalty has to be with Elle, not with me. He’ll forbid her to marry me.” Not that she should. He couldn’t guarantee her happiness in the place he seemed mired in. Gage reversed his direction, walking backward away from Logan. “I should probably just suck it up and schedule an appointment. Then at least she’d have a legitimate reason to call off the wedding.”

  Probably should have kept that fact to himself, but he seemed incapable of holding back his verbal vomit. Maybe he had held it in too long. He let the idea of talking to Bill hang in the forefront of his brain.

  Logan followed at a slow jog. “Let me think on what to do. We might have to enlist a couple other guys, but maybe we can help.”

  Gage battled away the hope dying to burst out in his chest. He’d spent the past two months wondering if anyone could help.

  “What I don’t understand is why he’s pushing me away.” Elle Sweeney shoved her phone in her back pocket and bent to straighten the kindergarten kid-sized chairs. She worked her dark blond curls into a ponytail as she used her hip to shove a pint-sized desk back into an orderly row.

  School had let out for the summer two hours ago and her room was in disarray. Elle had conducted a cute little awards ceremony and she’d accepted a bazillion hugs from her students.

  In the now quiet classroom, she had only her aide, Sally, and a burgeoning sense of helplessness and frustration to keep her company. She’d texted Gage the second the kids and their parents had scattered, and, now, an hour later, it was apparent he was ignoring her.

  God, she’d been so happy to see him. The drive to the airport in Denver had passed in a blur of eagerness and anticipation. He’d requested only she meet him, instead of his entire family making the trip. And his mom and dad had agreed.

  The sight of him riding the escalator to baggage claim had finally caused the tears to spill over. Rugged, handsome, weary, but looking so damn good in his BDUs. It was only after he’d swept her up in a hug she realized how gaunt he’d become. He’d buried his face in her neck for several long minutes, hiding his tears against her skin. She hadn’t bothered to hide hers.

  Their kiss was like a recreation of the very first time he’d kissed her. Tentative, sweet. It felt like coming home. Every inch of her body tingled when he’d wrapped her in his arms for the first time in a year. Deployment was hell, but oh, God…that first kiss. They’d spent the night in Denver, in a luxury suite she’d been saving for months to pay for. They’d checked in early to the knowing smile of the desk clerk. And for a time, life had been rosy, filled with pent-up passion and words of love. Until he’d rolled to his side and fell into a fitful sleep without…

  The nightmares began that night. His moans had jerked her awake and she’d held him tight while his heart slowed and he withdrew into himself. He’d refused to talk about it. She had no experience dealing with returning warriors, so other than whispering words of love, she didn’t know how to calm him. How to help him reclaim the funny, happy man he’d been before he left for war.

  “Is he seeing someone?” Sally Gagnon asked. At fifty-something, Sally had started working in Elle’s classroom as an aide, helping with whatever was needed for a class of twenty kindergartners.

  “No. My dad is standing by, ready to help, but Gage is uncomfortable even talking about setting an appointment.”

  “Well, I guess I can understand that. But I’d bet your dad would remain impartial.”

  “He should be able to, but can you imagine talking to your future father-in-law about intimacy issues brought about by traumatic wartime experiences?” Heat flashed up Elle’s chest, neck, and face. The curse of being pale. Those blushes were unconquerable. She couldn’t believe she’d said anything to Sally. But frustration was getting the better of her. They’d had a spectacular physical relationship before he’d shipped out. But in the month he’d been home, they’d only made love three times. Each time had left her…lonely.

  Sally shuddered then laughed. “I see your point. Does Gage have a dog?”

  That was an odd question. Elle tipped her head to the side. “Cricket passed a year before Gage was deployed. He hasn’t had the heart to get a new dog.”

  He’d loved that old Black Lab so damn much. He’d been devastated when the vet had told him Cricket had cancer. His hand had shook as he signed the consent forms to euthanize his pet. More than a pet, really. Cricket had been his best friend, other than Elle. He’d sat, his back to the wall, with the seventy-pound dog on his lap as Cricket breathed his last.

  Gage had broken down as soon as they’d left the vet’s office. They’d driven to the dog park Crick had loved. They sat silently on a bench, watching other dogs playing with their humans. Gage had hurled the dog’s leash into the small pond, then kicked a tree hard enough to rake bark from the trunk. Thankfully, Gage had been wearing the steel-toed boots required for his job at the mine.

  It had been the first time she’d seen him so upset. But not the last. Normally, Gage was even-keeled, but in the month or so he’d been home, he’d become more and more fidgety and out of control. He tried to hide it from her by constantly heading to the river trail to jog for hours. He’d come home too exhausted for words. Just thinking about it now made her eyes sting and ache with unshed grief.

  “Listen, my daughter has been training dogs for stroke and cardiac patients,” Sally offered. “She told me last week she was fostering a shepherd-boxer mix that had been trained for PTSD victims. Have you heard anything about therapy dogs? Is that something your dad could recommend?”

  “I haven’t heard of them. Dad’s never mentioned them. But I haven’t really talked to him about Gage’s problem. Somehow, it feels disloyal.”

  Sally laid her hand on Elle’s forearm. “Grab your purse. I’m going to introduce you to Emily and Sigmund. Men are basically boys at heart. And what boy doesn’t want a dog?”

  Chapter Two

  In her cream-colored Subaru Forester, Elle followed Sally to her daughter, Emily’s, house in Bayfield. Sally had shared that the twenty-seven-year-old Emily was a little socially awkward and a lot shy. She’d moved to the three-acre lot at the very edge of town right after she’d graduated from college, spending all her time with animals. She ran an obedience school and a kennel. A small wooden sign reading Pooch at Play noted the entry to the property.

  The rutted lane led to a wide clearing filled with wooden structures clearly designed for dog training. There was a quaint cabin at one end, with a wide porch and flower boxes overflowing with rainbows of petunias. To the left was a large red pole barn. Through the gaping door Elle observed a variety of kennels and wire cages. A chorus of barking dogs accompanied the strains of Eighties music pouring forth.

  When she pulled into a spot next to Sally’s van, Emily waited in the front yard. But the petite redhead wasn’t what drew her attention. Every fiber in her being was drawn instantly to the mutt sitting on its haunches next to her.

  The white-and-brindle-colored dog perked up as she stepped from her car. Its hind end was a good three inches shorter than its front quarters, but instead of looking silly, the effect was powerful. Old school aviator goggles hung around the sleekly muscled neck, nestled in the folds of a dark red bandana. Why in the world would a dog need goggles? It wore a bright red vest emblazoned with the words Service Animal.

  As Elle approached the pair, the dog took a step forward, glanced at Emily and then turned its soulful brown eyes back toward Elle. He thumped his stubby tail side-to-side, apparently happy to meet new people.

  He took another step forward, stopping at a sharp command from Emily. “Stay! Sit, Sigmund.” Obediently, the mutt dropped to his haunches, mouth open and his tongue slurping around his snout.

  Sally moved forward and kissed Emily’s cheek, then stroked her fingertips over Sigmund’
s scruff. “Em, this is Elle Sweeney. Her fiancé, Gage, just returned from deployment, and has uh, some issues he needs help with. I immediately thought of your new project.”

  Hearing the description Sally chose, Elle bristled as she shook Emily’s hand. “He hasn’t been diagnosed with PTSD, but he has night terrors, and, I think, a serious case of survivor’s remorse.”

  “Explains the need for a therapy dog.” Emily spoke to Elle’s sandaled feet. Emily wore hiking boots with baggy jeans, and an ASPCA T-shirt that had seen better days. She lifted her eyes to hold Elle’s for a moment, then darted them down again.

  “I’m not sure how a dog can help with those, but I’ll keep an open mind.”

  “Would you like to learn more about how my dog can help?”

  At Elle’s nod, Emily snapped her fingers near Sigmund’s ear. “Watch me.” Sigmund immediately lifted his big head, brows raised, his flanks quivering. “Heel.”

  Sally walked to the porch leading to the cabin and took a seat, patting the step next to her. “We can watch the show from here.”

  Elle hurried over, tucked her keys in the pocket of her lightweight fleece jacket and sat. Sun streamed into the clearing and struck the crown of Emily’s head. Her red curls blazed, a coppery nimbus. The woman had a look of extreme concentration on her face…brows needled together, chewing her lower lip, every speck of her attention focused on Sigmund.

  “Let’s go!” Emily took off at a walk, leading the dog around the clearing, and up over the equipment. Sigmund heeded every command, stopping when Emily did, resting on his butt when ordered to.

  Suddenly, Emily fell to her back in the grass, curled into a ball and moaned.