Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  Chapter Seven

  Asking Bill for help had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Wait, strike that. Trying to break his engagement to Elle had been harder. The idea of life without her terrified him but didn’t make him any less resolved to let her go if it was the best thing for her. Thankfully, she’d called him on it. Still, his heart had careened in his chest like he’d been running flat out for five miles when he’d made the request. His pulse had pounded in his ears, muffling the sound of his words. His entire body went numb then nerves had jangled like aspen leaves in the wind.

  Now, he and Elle had almost finished their conversation with Brianne, the photographer. She’d paraded them around the meadow behind the Aspen Leaf for the better part of an hour, droning on about the light, and the breeze-blocking trees, even the freaking texture of the grass and how it was going to look in the finished photographs.

  Gage nodded occasionally, acting like he was listening. But he’d zoned out. Worry about what he was going to say to Bill—what Bill might say to him, crowded all other thoughts from his head. What if whatever he said to Elle’s dad, the shrink, led him to believe Elle would be better off without him? He couldn’t bear that. Life would be one-dimensional without her in it. Probably what she felt about life with him at the moment. Like any mediocre office grunt, he’d just been phoning it in since he’d gotten home.

  Talking to Bill would be the first step in getting back to normal. Or at least, a comfortable new normal.

  Elle kept chattering to the photographer as they strolled from the meadow where he’d cement his life to hers in a couple of short weeks. Gage trailed the uneven path behind them, Sigmund at his side. It had been eye opening to see firsthand the therapy dog’s behavior during the freak-out at the lunch. It had started him thinking of a plan to convince Jonas Flaherty to let him keep Sigmund with him at work. He firmed his resolve to call Jonas tomorrow and tell him he thought he was ready to come back. He’d been home more than a month. It was time. Plus, he needed the income. Paying for a wedding wasn’t cheap.

  His phone buzzed to life. As he looked at the screen, a smile tilted his lips. “Elle, I’ll catch up,” he called, holding the thin silver device so she could see. She nodded and grinned at him as he swiped his thumb to the right to answer. “Hey, Logan.”

  “Gage, our ball team captain, Bucky Budke, just called.” Logan didn’t mess around with a greeting. “He wondered if you’d agreed to play for us yet.”

  “Crap, I forgot to get back to you,” Gage fibbed. It wasn’t so much forgot as it was the uncertainty. The minute he joined, he opened himself up to questions about…well, everything.

  “We really could use your help.”

  The rounded edge of the phone cut into his fingers. One by one he rolled them off the frame, forcing himself to relax. He stopped by a rustic fence and leaned against the pole. From his position, he could track Elle and Brianne as they progressed to the parking lot. He crossed one ankle over the other and tucked his free hand under his pit.

  “I’m sensing resistance.” Logan’s chuckle roamed down the phone line. “Tell you what—if you agree, I promise you’ll never have to pay for beer.”

  “Tempting.”

  “Well, beyond the first night, anyway. Tradition is that rookies pay. Can’t fuck with the ritual.”

  “Probably shouldn’t.”

  “Shouldn’t join or shouldn’t fuck with tradition?” Logan’s voice came across as slightly panicked. “G-man, our first practice is in two weeks. We’re desperate to fill the spot.”

  Elle twisted around and shot him a gesture that basically said are-you-coming. He shoved away from the post and ambled after her. He’d committed to getting back to normal. High school sports had been huge for him, and he’d maintained an active lifestyle throughout his life. Being back with friends and part of a team might help him. They couldn’t question him forever about life overseas. He told Logan, “I’ll do it. What do you need from me?”

  Logan whooped. “Excellent. Team meeting at The Reading Room next Monday. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Is that a new bookstore?”

  “Forgot, they opened while you were overseas. It’s Durango’s new speakeasy. Kind of cool and the unofficial clubhouse for the team. Trendy, but we like the owner, so we head there instead of the Billy Goat for team meetings.” Logan rattled off the time and address.

  Gage discovered he was actually looking forward to playing baseball again. To being part of a team. As soon as the thought struck, memories of the last team he’d been on flashed like lightning through his head. He staggered with the swift appearance of the mental image of his squad’s victory photo after they’d won a grudge match with the camp’s kitchen staff.

  He came to a dead stop in the middle of the path back to the lodge and locked his knees. Sigmund nuzzled his snout into Gage’s palm, pulling him from the precipice. Making a conscious effort, Gage brushed the memory from his mind. He’d buried the original photo in his sock drawer and had locked the image away in the deepest recesses of his mind. It was a picture he should have already shared with his team’s families. Except, like a fucking coward, he hadn’t been able to make those connections yet.

  He unlocked his knees and forced his feet into motion. Just one more thing to mention to Bill. The way he was going, they’d be running a hundred miles.

  Bill waited in the parking lot at the Aspen Leaf. Dressed in running shorts and a vintage Moody Blues concert T-shirt, he stretched on the grass near the front entrance to the hotel. He wore funky shoes with the toes separated. Gage had run barefoot and didn’t enjoy it. Those shoes wouldn’t have made the experience any better.

  He lifted a shoulder, then his hand in greeting. With a slight nod, Bill kept gripping his ankles and pulling his torso toward his knee. Closer to laying flat, something his protruding gut would have prevented a year ago. The man had committed to getting in shape for his daughter’s big day and he’d almost achieved the goal.

  Handing over a deposit check to the photographer, Elle hugged her. “We’ll see you on the fourteenth.”

  “Looking forward to it.” Brianne wiggled her fingers his direction, and climbed into her Subaru. Her brake lights flashed as she reversed out of the parking space.

  Gage’s heartbeat kicked up a notch as he and Elle walked farther into the lot. While she talked to her dad, Gage unhooked Sigmund’s crate from the back of the truck. He was sending Sig home with Elle while he ran with Bill. He made a mental note to ask Emily at tomorrow’s session about whether he could take the dog on his long, punishing runs.

  “Ready to go?” Bill asked as he and Elle approached.

  Gage slid the crate into the back of her Forester. “Just about.” He opened the wire gate and snapped his fingers at Sig. “Move.”

  The dog leaped into the back of the car and immediately entered the cage. He spun around until he faced the opening and lay down, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  “Good boy.” Digging in his pocket, Gage found a treat. He carried them wherever he went now. He offered it to Sigmund, who snarfed it from his palm, working his big jaws to crunch it to oblivion. Gage secured the gate.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll be leaving you two to your run.” Elle kissed Gage’s cheek after lowering the hatch on the car. “When do you think you’ll be home?”

  Gage tossed a glance at Bill, who pulled a leg behind him, bending it at the knee to stretch his hamstring. He balanced one hand on the hood of the car. Gage arched a brow. “An hour maybe? Two?”

  Bill grimaced. “No way I’ll be able to go two.”

  “Kidding. I told you I’d take it easy on you.” Gage jogged in place.

  “Don’t kill my dad, please. I’ll see you at home, honey.” Elle wrapped her arms under his and snuggled into his chest for a hard hug. “Love you, Gage.”

  Gage tightened his embrace. “Love you more, baby.”

  The smile on her face shifted something in his heart. A glow of warmth spread th
rough his chest. She was sticking by him, despite his fears, phobias, and newly minted bad habit of shutting down any touchy-feely conversation she tried to launch. She must love him. God knew he’d do anything for her.

  He released her, and turned her toward the driver’s side. As she settled behind the wheel and shut her door, he joined Bill by the hood. He slapped his future father-in-law on the shoulder. “Let’s go, old man. I need to you fix me so I can spend my life making your daughter happy.”

  Turning toward the lot’s exit, he began a slow jog, but throttled back a bit, letting Bill set the pace.

  They stayed even with Elle’s car, but eventually she passed them at the entrance to the resort. She saluted them with a pert wave. Sigmund’s face was visible out the back window, and for a few moments, anxiety rose in Gage. They hadn’t been together long, but he knew firsthand how helpful his therapy dog was. Seeing him drive away in the back of Elle’s vehicle wrenched his unreasonable fears to the surface.

  “All right?” Bill questioned as Gage slowed.

  “Yeah.” He shook away the nerves, imagining stepping on them with each strike of his foot against the poorly paved path. He’d have to watch to be sure he didn’t step into a pothole left from snowplowing over the past winter and spring. “Is it okay if we just run a few minutes? No talking.”

  “Gage, it’s your session, albeit a highly irregular meeting place. We talk when you’re ready.”

  Would he ever really be ready? His feet beat against the road as he chewed his thoughts. Bill’s breath came steady as he jogged alongside him. The pace was slow and relaxed, which was fine with Gage. Easier to maintain his focus on what he needed to say.

  Temperatures had soared into the eighties, and humidity had shot up, making each breath Gage sucked in feel like he was underwater. Very different from the dry air he’d run in while overseas. The camouflage Army shirt he wore was plastered with sweat to his chest, and rivulets started to slide down his face and back before he was prepared to spill his guts.

  The path changed to gravel as they veered to the right. This was the point where Gage had promised himself he’d start talking. “I don’t know where to start,” he confessed.

  Bill grunted, his footfalls echoing Gage’s. “Let’s try rating the issues you want to address on a one to ten scale, one being the least concerning for you, ten being the point at which you’d love to crawl under a rock and hide.”

  “Been there.” For forty-three long fucking hours.

  “Damn. Sorry.”

  “’s okay. Kind of funny actually.” A smile lifted the corners of Gage’s mouth. At least he could find humor a bit easier now.

  He mulled Bill’s suggestion, testing out which problem rated a ten. Which issue, when he sucked it up to dwell on it, cause the most anxiety? “The nightmares are the worst right now, followed by going back to work.” It was a three-way tie with whether Elle would continue to put up with his bullshit. And then, of course, there was the need to get in touch with his squad’s families.

  “What about the nightmares?” Bill seized the first hurdle Gage had thrown out.

  “Can’t control when I get them. Can’t control what shape they’re gonna take. Can’t control how fast I get out of them. I’m afraid to go to sleep some nights.”

  “So it’s a control thing?”

  Gage considered for a minute. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You didn’t have much control while you were buried in the rubble.” Bill’s tone was breathy but firm, demanding an answer.

  An answer Gage didn’t want to face. His already racing heart vaulted into overdrive. “None. I was as helpless as a baby.” He slowed his pace even more. His breathing was harder to calm.

  Bill put his arm on Gage’s. “Let’s walk, okay?”

  With a nod, Gage dropped into a Sunday-in-the-park stroll.

  “This is where you get to spew all the negative thoughts you have about being helpless. Just throw it out there.”

  As they climbed an incline in the trail, Gage steadied his breathing. Bill swung his arms easily, but Gage could see the tension holding the man’s shoulders stiff. He imagined his own posture looked similar, or maybe even more steely.

  But he was going to do it. He was going to spill his guts. Rubbing his sternum, he launched into a graphic description of his brief—ha ha—imprisonment. Talking about his fallen comrades, their cries and screams. His own screams for help, and those he’d released in frustration. His voice went hoarse as he continued talking. They moved along the rutted path and Gage kept his eyes on the road, watching for trip hazards, reticent to look Bill in the eye. Telling him things he’d bottled up and had never even shared with Elle. Just puked it all out there as they progressed along the forest trail, climbing up, up, up.

  Bill listened patiently. Taking it all in. He asked questions that provoked additional memories, things Gage had suppressed in his consciousness. Like how Gage had crawled through the rubble to get to Griffin and shared a ration from his water bottle with the injured man. He’d dragged his knees through Connors’ blood to get to the injured soldier. Gage scrubbed his hands on his ass, as if his fingers were still sticky.

  As they continued on the path, it dawned on Gage they’d turned onto an old mining trail. He stopped talking abruptly, spun around and headed back the way they’d come. Without explanation.

  “Gage?” Confusion in Bill’s voice made it rise.

  “Told you I’d take it easy on you. Time to head back.” He had to spit the words past the anxious clog in his throat. His shoulders felt weighed down, the way they had in the collapsed building. He sucked a breath deep enough to shift his ribs to ease the sudden anxiety. Blew it out, then sucked in another.

  “Stop.” Command now lowered Bill’s voice, demanding adherence with military-like precision.

  Ever the soldier, Gage stopped as ordered. He moved to the side of the road and leaned his shoulder against the trunk of a towering pine, turning his forehead against the rough bark. Knots formed along his shoulders, and painfully cinched the muscles along his spine.

  “What just happened, Gage?” Bill moved around in front of Gage and pinned him with knowing gray eyes. Eyes the same shade as Elle’s.

  He mumbled, “We’re on the road to the old Mesa Mine.”

  The mine had been abandoned after the seam of gold played out. Since then, it was a favorite spot for high school kids to hang out, because the owners never sealed the entrance. Just slapped up chain link fence that might keep out zombies during an apocalypse. It never deterred teens from venturing in for a party or a rave. Gage knew this because he’d been one of those teens. Even back then, he found the opening maw of the mine chilling.

  “Hmm, yes we are.” Bill cocked his head to the side and dropped into a stretching lunge.

  “Don’t want to go there right now.” Gage’s words were clipped. Terse.

  “Ah.” He circled his torso to the left. “Number two on your list.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you spoken to Jonas yet about going back to work?” Bill spread his legs wide and bent at the waist, his hands hanging about three inches from the ground.

  Gage didn’t bother with stretches. Maybe physical pain would distract him from the mental anguish invoked by the prospect of descending into a mine. “I thought I’d talk to him tomorrow. I can’t keep procrastinating. But, fuck it all, I’m not sure I can go back down.”

  “Understandable.” Bill scuffed the ground with his toes and dislodged a couple of pebbles.

  Gage trained his gaze on the stones as they tumbled to the middle of one of the old tire ruts. The coppery taste of blood coated his tongue.

  “Again, we’ll prioritize. What scares you the most?”

  Gage bit out a harsh laugh. “Everything? Walking through the gate to the mine. The elevator descent into the dark. The noise of the machinery. The fact that a bazillion pounds of Earth above my head could come crashing down at any moment.” He could continue the litany, but his
heart raced so fast, catching enough breath to speak had become a chore. If he hadn’t already been sweating, he’d be drenched.

  Bending at the waist, Gage squatted and tucked his head between his knees, wrapped his arms around his head.

  Footsteps crunched on fallen leaves. Bill’s hand dropped onto Gage’s shoulder. “That’s quite a list. Gage, if you’d like, I’d be happy to go with you to talk to Jonas.”

  Frustrated anger rose in Gage’s chest. He knocked Bill’s hand away and shot upright. He braced his spine against the tree. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “That’s not what I meant at all.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Gage, do you think Jonas doesn’t know what you went through? He was trapped in a cave-in in Pennsylvania when he took his first job out of high school.”

  That gave Gage a pause. “I’d forgotten about that.” They’d talked about his experience over beers one night after work.

  “I offered to go with you so if you had to take that elevator to the bottom of the shaft to have that conversation with Jonas, I could be with you. Help you through the anxiety.”

  “Nice of you, but I doubt any of those grizzled old miners would want to work with me if they thought I needed someone to hold my hand.” He could almost hear their laughter and jeers. They were hard-workers who didn’t suffer fools.

  “Gotcha.” For a moment, Bill tapped a finger against his lips. “How about this. I go with you to help explain to Jonas about your therapy dog. I can even write a prescription for Sigmund. That way he can accompany you to work every day. He’ll be able to go to the bottom with you.”

  Gage felt like a fifty-pound rock had just been lifted from his chest. Knowing Sigmund could make the trip into the dark oblivion that was his workplace ratcheted his jittery nerves into a more manageable spot. Breath flowed a little easier in and out of his lungs. “That could work.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gage’s first session with her dad had done a world of good. Elle noted the difference in him immediately. When he’d walked back into their home two hours after she’d left them, he sat at the kitchen table and placed a call to Jonas. Sigmund’s toenails clicked on the tile floor as he padded across the kitchen and lay down, one paw over Gage’s running shoe.