by Vanessa Vale
I shrugged, unsure.
“Amy, this isn’t the right—” She spun on Michael, who’d taken hold of her arm.
“Everyone wants to ruin this weekend for me. Especially Astrid,” she snarled, like a feral cat.
I bristled and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Astrid did too. I laced my fingers with hers.
“She makes a sub-par wedding cake, then she brings a boyfriend that everyone’s talking about instead of me. This fight… ” She waved her hand between Eddie and Astrid. “I told you it had to stay a secret. It’s not my fault you told Thatcher, Edward. Now Astrid knows.”
“Yeah, I know everything,” Astrid said, straight-faced.
She had no fucking clue, but she was playing Amy for details.
But it was Patricia who gave it up. “Amy, it’s not your fault Astrid couldn’t keep Edward’s interest. Edward sleeping with you on the side was her fault. She practically drove you into his arms.”
Say what?
Astrid’s fingers squeezed mine. Amy was the woman Eddie had cheated with behind Astrid’s back?
“Jesus, this was years ago,” Michael said. “We hadn’t even met yet.”
Michael was fine with whatever sex Amy’d had before they met, even if it meant she’d been the “other woman.” Even if she’d done something so cruel to her own sister. That was completely fucked up. Maybe he was like this because he’d enjoyed Sandra the Hooker the night before. If so, he wasn’t one to throw stones.
Hell, everyone we’d met in Cutthroat, except maybe Kit and Donovan, was insane.
“Amy,” Astrid said.
Amy whipped around and glared at Astrid. Her chest was heaving. “What?”
“I’m done. You got your free cake. You got your man.” She pointed at Eddie, then Michael. “And your man. I’m leaving. You didn’t want me here anyway. But I’m sure as shit not sharing Thatcher.”
Astrid spun to face her mother. “You put my ex as best man in a wedding when you knew he fucked me over with the bride. You chose Eddie over me. My van’s a shame to you. My clothing is. My ability to see disappoints you. I’m out. Done. You know where I live. You know what I am. Show up or not. I don’t give a shit any longer. You can take that stupid gray dress and fuck off.”
Amy and Patricia had the same look on their faces. They weren’t taking her words to heart, they were just stunned that she stood up for herself. Told them to fuck off.
That was my girl. I couldn’t have been more proud of her. She swung and hit it right out of the fucking park.
“Keys,” Astrid said. “Thatcher, give me the keys to my van.”
She’d called them on their shit. Yet I knew they weren’t going to change.
“Now.”
I did, after pulling them from my shorts’ pocket.
Snatching them, she took off, heading across the field toward the parking lot, dropping her ball cap in the grass on the way. I looked at the group. At Michael for being prepared to marry a woman like Amy. At Patricia for being the worst mother ever. At Eddie, who was going to have a busted nose and two black eyes as best man tomorrow. Then at Amy, who was Queen Bitch.
I didn’t say a word, Astrid had said enough, only just jogged to catch up to her. Because the one thing that wasn’t fake was how I felt right now.
“Wait up!” I called.
She didn’t stop, not until she got to the van and fumbled with getting the key in the lock.
“Astrid. Let me drive. You’re in no condition to—”
She spun on me, her ponytail whipping around. “I can drive when I’m upset, Thatcher.”
I held up my hands. “Yeah, I know, but you don’t have to.”
Tears filled her eyes and she pushed at her glasses.
Oh shit. Not tears. This was the first time I’d seen her break down, even after everything she’d been through. The passive aggressiveness. The accusations. The belittling. She didn’t even know the half of the things I’d heard. What her father had said about her. What Eddie had said. Bunky, too. I wanted to take her to the ranch and tuck her into my farmhouse and shield her from the world. To tell her every day how perfect she was, just the way she was. She didn’t need any of the losers here in Cutthroat. She didn’t need her parents or sister.
She blinked, then set her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I do.”
“I’m here,” I replied. She’d let me help her before.
“No, you’re not.”
I frowned. She wasn’t making sense. “Sweets, I’m standing right here.”
“You’re not really with me,” she added. “You’re my fake boyfriend, remember?”
I rolled my eyes, flung a hand in the air. “Come on, we’re past that, don’t you think?”
I wanted to pull her into my arms, hug the shit out of her. She didn’t get enough of them in her life, and I wanted to be the one to change that. It was different than sex. Different than my obsession with her body. I wanted her, to comfort her. To make all her problems in life go away. I was working on it one broken nose at a time.
She shifted and crossed her arms. “You’re going to Mexico, remember? You don’t want a relationship.”
Shit.
It was my turn to be scolded. My own words were being tossed at me and I didn’t like the feel of it. Mexico didn’t sound so exotic right about now. The warm sun, the beach, and the ocean, all of that wasn’t really going to keep me warm over the winter months. But Astrid could.
For the first time, I could see why Huck wanted to hunker down with Sarah. Stay home. Nap. Make babies.
But I’d avoided all that in my life because things happened. Kelsey almost died in a fucking fire last weekend. Sarah and Huck were ripped apart for six years. Turned out, they’d even lost a baby. Our parents had died. Shit happened and that hurt. Going to Mexico was a way to ensure the love trap that my brothers were falling into didn’t happen to me.
“So you’re what? Pushing me away because of something Amy and Eddie did?”
She looked away. When she caught sight of the shit show still out on the field, she had her answer. “Yeah. I’m pushing you away. Not because of Amy. I’m pushing you away because I never had you. I can take care of myself because those people—” She pointed to the group. “—don’t give a shit about me. I’ve known that for years. That’s why I left. Why I stayed away. I thought maybe things would be different this time. A wedding’s a happy occasion. Maybe they’d be different. If I brought a boyfriend, they’d see me differently. But no.”
“Screw them,” I said. “But not me.”
“I already did,” she countered, her words almost cruel. They made what we’d done the night before seem like I was a paid hooker. I was the Sandra for her. “We’re done, Thatcher. Obviously, I’m not going to the wedding tomorrow. Your services are no longer needed.”
“My services? I’m not talking about that. And you’ll remember you liked those services just as much as me,” I snapped right back. I ripped off the hat to run my hand over my head, realized it was the fucking ball cap and not my Stetson, and tossed it aside.
“Fine. I loved it. But it was a fling. Meaningless. You knew it. I knew it. It’s better to walk away now.”
“You don’t want to try, whatever this is between us?”
What was I saying? I couldn’t keep her, but I didn’t want to let her go.
“Do you? Because you were just as clear as me. I’m not the one leaving the country.”
She pointed to the dugouts where everyone was collecting their stuff. Softball wasn’t going to happen now. “Besides, I’m not turning into that. You saw it first-hand what love is like. It’s not real. It’s a lie. I’m sparing you—both of us—now.”
I thought of Claire’s words. How love was easy.
No way. But this was the closest I’d ever felt to a woman and it had all been pretend. If it was real, I’d be gutted. Exactly the reason I’d avoided it.
Still, someone like her deserved to be loved. To show up a guy with her killer s
oftball skills. With her amazing baking. With her need for promptness. Hell, for her need for someone to make her first. Above everything and everyone else.
And I couldn’t give her that.
Because right now, it fucking hurt and we’d been faking it all along. If it were real, I wasn’t going to survive and I’d been in survival mode since I was twelve.
“What about last night?” I asked.
The question made me sound like a total girl.
She swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Like I told you then. You’re dick wasn’t fake.”
Her attention went to getting the key in the lock. She got the door open and was inside before I could even think of anything more. I watched as she backed out of the spot and gunned it out of the parking lot.
14
THATCHER
“Need a ride?” I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at the main road until Nix spoke.
I turned, ran a hand over my head. “Yeah, thanks. Looks like I’m stuck in Cutthroat.”
“Think she’ll come back for you when she’s feeling better?”
I laughed. “I don’t think she’s coming back. Ever.”
Kit joined us. She offered me a sad smile. “That was… interesting.”
“Wedding still on?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “As an event planner, it sounds pretty sad, but if I got paid by a marriage’s success, I’d be out of business.”
Nix wrapped an arm around her waist, kissed the top of her head.
“I’m going to give Thatcher a ride back to The Bend.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell Donovan, but I’ll be at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d picked up our things from Astrid’s bedroom in her parents’ house—let in by a housekeeper—and on the road toward The Bend in Nix’s police SUV. It was pretty much identical to Huck’s so I was familiar with all the buttons and gadgets.
“That is one fucked up family,” Nix finally said. “And I’ve seen some shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m guessing you learned about Edward and Amy right before you punched him in the nose.”
I looked out the window at the passing prairie. “I punched Eddie because he deserved it. The fucker,” I grumbled. “I didn’t know it was Amy he’d cheated with until she fucked up and let her paranoia get the best of her. I guess Astrid leaving town all those years ago made it easy to keep the secret.”
“I can’t believe Michael’s cool with that shit and made Edward the best man.”
I shrugged. “I missed the after-hours bachelor party, but based on what Astrid’s dad told me about hookers, Michael probably isn’t all that concerned about fidelity.”
“Yeah, I heard about the hookers.” I glanced at him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Comes with the job.”
“I don’t think any of them give a shit about monogamy, for that matter. I know for a fact that Bunky’s a fucking cheater.”
He glanced my way, arched a dark brow. “Bunky?”
“Thomas Bunker.”
“Ah. The slimy guy on our team?”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much, but yeah. He’s from The Bend. Sadly, my brothers and I grew up with him.”
“Small world,” he commented. “It’s a good thing Astrid’s got you. Shitty relationships might be everywhere, but when you find a good one, you keep her.”
“Kit?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.
He smiled. “Yeah. Donovan and I are lucky.”
I didn’t know who Donovan was, but I’d heard that some guys in Cutthroat shared a woman. Based on the other relationships I’d seen in that town, maybe there was something to be said for it.
I kept my mouth shut because I couldn’t even make a fake relationship work.
But if it was so fake, why did I feel like shit?
ASTRID
“What the—” Mary said, putting the frosting she’d just mixed into the walk-in fridge. She shut the door behind her and eyed me. “Say that again.”
“It was Amy,” I repeated. “Edward cheated on me with my sister.”
She stared. “Holy shit. I’m calling your aunt.” She went for the phone, picked up the tin we put broken, unsellable cookies in, and handed it to me.
I dropped onto my stool with the tin and pulled out a piece of a snickerdoodle. I heard Mary talking but didn’t pay her any attention. In fact, I didn’t remember driving back from Cutthroat. I’d stared at the road and drove on autopilot as I thought about my fucked-up family. My life. Thatcher.
Aunt Jean must have been at the library because she came through the door within minutes. She wore black pants with a plain white blouse, but over it she had on a pale blue t-shirt that read Five out of four people have problems with fractions.
I’d seen that one before, which I thought was hilarious. On a normal day.
Today, I wondered if five out of four people had crazy families or whose sister fucked her boyfriend behind her back.
I watched from the stool as she shooed a straggler who was drinking an iced coffee and reading a book out the door and turned the open sign to closed.
I should have cared that she shut down my business early, or that she was able to do it with such finesse that the guy thought he was doing her a favor instead of the other way around, but I didn’t have it in me. The store closed early on Saturdays so I’d probably only miss a few late stragglers.
“Upstairs,” she ordered when she took one look at me. “Bring the tin.”
She didn’t wait, only started up the back steps to my apartment above the store. The arrangement suited me well, especially since I had to be up so early. It was a short commute and great in the winter.
I followed, Mary taking up the rear. Aunt Jean was already on my small couch.
“Mary said you were back early,” Aunt Jean said. “For a second I thought maybe you couldn’t stay away from the shop, but then I remembered who you were related to.”
“Edward cheated on me with Amy.” I said it like I was ripping off a Band-Aid.
Her lips thinned, but she didn’t even blink. “That is not surprising.”
“You knew?” I shrieked, waving my arms around.
“Astrid, sit down,” she replied calmly.
When I flopped onto the other end of the couch, she took my hand. Mary settled into my overstuffed armchair, the one I snuggled into to read.
“I didn’t know,” Aunt Jean began. “But with our family, is it really all that surprising?”
I paused, clutching my fingers together in my lap. “Amy is a total bitch. I hate using that word because it’s so gender specific, but she is. But this? It’s…”
“Do you really want Edward?” she asked, her eyes a little concerned.
My eyes widened in horror. “Hell no,” I replied.
The relief on her face was visible. Clearly she didn’t want me with that guy. “Then it doesn’t really matter. Even though it was years ago, she did you a favor.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it. Maybe she did. If I hadn’t heard through the Cutthroat grapevine Edward had cheated in the first place, I’d never have dumped him. I’d like to think I’d have come to my senses about him on my own, but maybe not. I just had to wonder how the gossip hadn’t included that it had been Amy. I’d never asked him who it was. It hadn’t mattered. Maybe it still didn’t when it came to him, but Amy? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get over what she’d done.
Aunt Jean seemed to think it still didn’t matter.
I’d left Cutthroat because of the breakup.
“I wouldn’t have come here and opened my shop.”
“That’s right. I’m the only sane one in the family. I’ve loved having you close and it took a little while, but you’ve found your place here. You run a successful business. You are a success, Astrid, no matter what your parents or sister say.”
“Here, here,” Mary said, waving a broken oatmeal
raisin then taking a bite. “You wouldn’t have me as a best friend either. I should send Amy a thank you card.”
I stared at her, then burst out laughing. Then burst into tears.
“Amy’s not worth crying over,” Aunt Jean said, her voice softer.
“I’m not crying over her,” I said, each word coming out in a gaspy sob.
“It’s not the dress they’re making you wear, is it?” Mary asked.
I shook my head. “I never even tried it on.”
“Then what?” Aunt Jean asked, then said, “Oh. It’s Thatcher, isn’t it?”
I cried and nodded, ate a cookie piece and cried some more. Thatcher was… God, he was perfect. Nice. Charming. Protective. Definitely possessive, especially of my boobs. He dealt with my family like a champ. Fucked me like I was a princess and a slut, and I’d loved every minute of being with him. And then I pushed him away because I felt too much. Instead of running into his arms as he’d offered, I’d done the opposite. Now I was eating broken cookies and crying over a broken heart.
“I… I left him in Cutthroat.”
“He’s a big boy,” Aunt Jean said. “He can get himself home. Did he do something?”
I shook my head. “No. I did. I fell in love with him.”
THATCHER
“Let me get this straight. You went with Astrid Turnbuckle to her sister’s wedding as a fake boyfriend.”
I nodded at Alice, who was sitting at the foot of the huge kitchen table. She’d sent Claire down to my barn house to retrieve me for dinner. I might be thirty years old but I knew it was something I couldn’t refuse, no matter how I felt.
Huck and Claire sat facing me, Sarah on my right. Sawyer was working at the firehouse and Kelsey was in town. Alice had made one of my favorites, chicken and dumplings. I hardly tasted it.
When she gave the one sentence recap of the weekend, I swallowed hard, my latest bite stuck in my throat.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. She gave me the stare that in the past meant I was in trouble. “It was what she wanted. That was why she bought me at the auction.”
“Then you love each other!” Claire cried out, waving her hands around. “That’s what happens when you get bought.”
