“Yeah, well. Elle makes this party planning shit look effortless,” I muttered.
I was in charge of planning Brock’s bachelor party, and it was proving to be an insanely complicated task for a recovering alcoholic. The cliché bachelor party typically happened to be a night at the rippers, and I was a little nervous about the temptation I’d be in. Some days, I felt stronger than others. Other days, the thought of alcohol made me break into a cold sweat. Like right now, for instance. I wanted desperately to crack open a beer and play some Call of Duty with my brother, but I couldn’t. One drink would lead to twelve drinks, and I’d be fucked again.
Still, I didn’t want the other guys to feel obligated to have some kind of PG-13 evening just because I couldn’t drink.
“I already told you I don’t want a fuss,” my brother said, taking a deep sip of the Pepsi he was drinking.
Ever since I went to rehab, my siblings were overly cautious about drinking in front of me. I was pretty sure Brock stopped keeping beer in his refrigerator because of me, and it irritated the hell out of me. I didn’t want my siblings acting any differently around me—but hell, I was an alcoholic. I couldn’t really blame them for their behaviour.
“What if we went to Sudbury or Barrie or something and hit up the strip clubs?” I suggested, wondering if whatever store Elle bought the inflatable penis from carried inflatable vaginas.
“I don’t want to do the strip club scene,” he told me point blank. “I don’t think it’d be good for you.”
“This isn’t about me,” I argued. “It’s your bachelor party, man! This is what’s expected of you. Hell, even the girls went to a strip club!”
Brock simply smiled and shrugged, zero concern lining his face as his character took mine down again. There I was, overwhelmed with jealousy at the thought of Elle watching some dude flopping his sausage at her when she’d been strategically avoiding me ever since the day of the community bonfire, but my brother didn’t seem worried at all.
“Tessa has never even been to a strip club,” he’d pointed out. “I’ve been to several. It’s a rite of passage that you should see what the hype’s about. If Elle didn’t take her, I would have. All I want is an evening of fishing with my buddies on the lake and maybe a keg of beer.”
“That sounds lame,” I frowned. “Who would you even want there?”
Brock was silent, thinking. “You, obviously. Gordon, Grady, Travis, Tommy, Steve, Grayson. Maybe Ben.”
“So you literally just want to have a bush party with no chicks?” I furrowed my brow. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Plenty of fun in that,” Brock shrugged. “Sounds awesome. A laid back night with the guys.”
“Sounds lame,” I repeated, scowling.
“Come on Braden, you know how I am. I would rather not do anything at all, but I don’t think Tessa would let that fly. Just plan the stupid fishing thing for next Saturday. Hell, I’ll plan it.”
“No,” I grumbled, dejected. “I’ll message people on the meager list you gave me and sort everything out, not that there’s much to do.”
“Awesome, it’s settled. Now get your head in the game before I kill you for the hundredth time tonight.”
* * *
My heart sped up and my palms started to sweat as I listened to the phone ring, waiting for Elle to pick it up—or not. I wasn’t holding my breath, but I was hopeful that she’d answer.
It had been over two and a half weeks since I took her out to dinner, two weeks since the Parry Sound Stampede (and our little mudding exertion), and nearly a week since the bachelorette party. I held off for as long as I possibly could, giving her the space and time I knew she needed. But this wasn’t about us, at least—that’s what I told myself. This was about Brock’s bachelor party, and me being clueless about how to even throw one.
I’d invited the guys he’d mentioned, and they all gave their word that they’d be there. Then I left everything else to the last possible minute, and I was overwhelmed and had no idea where to begin. I had twelve hours to pull this off, and I wasn’t even entirely sure what I needed to pull off.
“Hello?”
Her voice shot an electrical current through my body. “Elle, I need you. Badly.”
She was silent for several long beats. “Is this a booty call, Braden?” she asked hotly.
I grinned. “No, but it could be.”
“What do you want?” she sighed, already exasperated with me.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I admitted, running my hand through my hair as I sat in my truck.
“With what?”
“This bachelor party. It was always you who sorted out the details and all that shit. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“The bachelor party is tonight Braden,” Elle exhaled, her temper spiking. “Please tell me you at least invited the guests.”
“Obviously. I was always good at that part,” I reminded her with a wry grin that she couldn’t see.
Elle was quiet, I could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind. “Did you buy the food? The decorations and games? The booze?”
“I know what I’m getting food wise, I didn’t realize we needed decorations and games for a fishing-slash-camping trip, and no to the booze.” I took a shaky breath. I didn’t want to admit it to her—or anybody else for that matter—but that was what really had me twisted up.
I was about to dedicate an entire night to hanging out with drunk people. Going mudding with the gang was a different environment than a bush party. For one, my nephew had been there, and nobody went hard on the drinking. Bush parties were a completely different scene, one that I’d avoided strategically because I worried I wouldn’t be strong enough to stay away from the call of liquor when it was around me to that degree, especially when I knew that Elle wouldn’t be there to distract me from my thirst.
“I’ll grab the booze,” Elle offered quickly, picking up on all of the things I didn’t say. “For decorations and games, I have some ideas. I need you to handle the food and the ice. We need a shit ton of ice. Make sure you get that last though. I’ll meet you at seven at the lake.”
“Why don’t I pick you up and go with you? The food and ice won’t take long at all, and even though I don’t know what I’m doing…I still want to do my part. I’ll follow your every command,” I suggested, my heart pounding in my chest.
She was silent again for several moments, moments that seemed to stretch on forever. “Alright, fine. Pick me up in forty-five minutes. I have to get ready.”
“Deal,” I said, ending the call feeling more gleeful than I should have felt. Truthfully…a small, rather conniving part of me had hoped to lure Elle into helping me, so that I could spend a little time with her, or in the very least hear her voice again while she gave me instructions. I was desperate for her attention.
Forty-five minutes later, I was pulling up the driveway to her house. She was waiting for me, sitting on the front porch steps. She stood up when I came to a stop and walked over, her hips swaying with each attitude-fueled step she took. Elle was dressed casually in shorts and a white t-shirt with a deer graphic on it that stretched across her breasts, and her hair wild and free, spilling over her shoulders and down her back like a dark mane. She wasn’t trying to drive me wild with want, but she succeeded. My blood pumped south the moment she climbed into the cab, her scent enveloping me.
“Thanks for helping me today, Elle,” I told her, my words sincere, as she pulled the seatbelt across her body.
“Don’t mention it. I’m doing this for Brock and Tessa, anyway. I can’t believe you left everything until the last minute,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Elle was never really a morning person, and I knew she was pissed that I’d dragged her out of bed before noon.
“I didn’t leave everything until the last minute,” I pointed out, pulling away from her house. “I invited the guests. That’s the most important part.”
“Yeah, until the guests arrive and there’s no
plan and no food.” Elle huffed at me, pushing her hair out of her face.
“I guess I’ve just been overthinking everything,” I sighed. Honesty was my best policy with Elle. “I’m kind of pissed that Brock didn’t want to do the whole strip club thing.”
“Why?”
“Because, it would have been easier for me. This was our scene in high school. Bush parties, camp outs, bonfires and booze. I haven’t done that shit since…well. Us. And I’m not counting that weekend we went mudding, there was barely any drinking and you were there.”
I could feel her eyes on me, and I was afraid that I’d said too much too soon. The silence between us was thick and heavy. “I’m sorry, Braden,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, drawing her eyes away from me and out the window.
“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” I told her, my eyes darting across the cab to look at her. “I was the one who turned to booze instead of dealing with my grief. I should have listened to you that day…” I added. The words were difficult to get out past the lump of pride and regret in my throat. I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering how Elle had cautioned me about drinking so much.
Even at the time, I’d known she was right. I just hadn’t known how to stop. I was on a rampage, locked in battle with myself. I didn’t think I deserved good things, and Elle was a good thing—a great thing. The best thing to have ever happened to me.
She was reflective, likely recalling the same day my thoughts were focused on. “I am sorry though. I’m sorry I blamed you when I should have fought harder to stay by your side. I knew how much you were hurting, and I let you push me away.”
I tromped on the breaks and pulled over to the shoulder of the road, turning to face her. “Elle, I’m telling you right now—what happened between us was my fault and mine alone. You were perfect—you are perfect. You always had my back, you always believed in me. I was the one that broke your trust. I was the one that fucked it up and believe me when I tell you—I would do anything to go back in time and not screw it up for us.”
Electricity zapped and sizzled, and the sexual tension between us could be cut with a knife, it was so abundant. Weeks of keeping our distance, weeks of circling around each other. Both of our eyes saying more than our mouths ever could.
I swallowed, my eyes drinking her in. It took all my restraint to stay on my side of the cab, to not reach out and let myself touch her in all the ways I wanted to.
She inhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders back. “Alright, well.” She said, her voice shaky and her eyes wide and uncertain. “First stop is good old Walmart. I’ve been on Pinterest looking for inspiration and there’s a couple of ideas I think you might like. We need to get cups and plates and all that stuff too.”
I smiled sadly and nodded, going along with her topic change. She didn’t know how to respond to what I’d said, and I didn’t know if I wanted her too.
* * *
Elle dumped the last remaining bag of ice into the old wheel barrow and tied the sign she’d made from an old piece of wood—the words “Beer Barrow” painted on it in white paint—to the wooden handles. I looked around the grassy waterfront, bewildered by Elle’s ability to plan and execute a party.
We had picked up enough string lights from the party rental place to light the whole waterfront area up. Several chairs were arranged around the fire pit, the wood was already prepped and ready for a match to drop. The food was arranged on the picnic tables, lids all on to keep bugs and ants out until everyone arrived. A portable speaker system was set up, and all I had to do was plug my phone in and bring up my playlists.
Everything looked perfect, and as an added bonus…I’d gotten to spend the day with her. At first, she’d been tense and unmoving. But party planning put Elle in a glorious mood, and it wasn’t long at all before she melted into the happy girl I remembered from high school, chatting my ears off about all the different ways we could do things.
And I lapped it all up eagerly. I was so relieved that she could let go of her contempt towards me, so relieved that she seemed to enjoy my company—even if it was for a little while. For the first time in a long while, I truly felt like this wasn’t a lost cause, that we weren’t a lost cause.
“You should be an event organizer,” I told her while I checked everything out again.
She smiled, delighted at my praise. “Thanks, although we really have Pinterest to thank for all this.” She looked around again, her hand on her hip and a satisfied look on her face. “Everything seems good to go. When are people supposed to arrive?”
“Within the next half hour or so,” I replied as I moved closer to her.
I came to a stop in front of her, fighting the urge to put my hands on her hips and pull her to me and kiss her until we both couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t ready for that, and we’d had an awesome day together. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin that.
She exhaled sharply, and I felt the warmth and sweetness of her breath on my chin. Her eyes were fixed on mine, bright and luminous. Time seemed to stand still as I raised my hand, gently cupping the side of her face. I swallowed hard.
“I can’t thank you enough for this…”
“Don’t mention it,” Elle said, pulling her face away from my touch. Her eyes were burning—but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure if she was pissed at me for touching her, or longing for something more.
“Let me give you a lift home,” I offered, shoving my traitorous hands in the pockets of my jeans and stepping back, giving her some space. Giving me space.
“It’s okay, I already texted Tessa. She’ll be here any minute. We’re supposed to start making the centerpieces tonight.” Elle was avoiding my eyes, throwing up the walls I’d so carefully broken down.
I nodded, my hands still in my pockets, and dropped my gaze. I just so happened to end up staring at the barrow full of beer. I swallowed again, my mouth as dry as the desert sand.
“Braden…will you be okay tonight?” she added, her hand touching the skin on my forearm gently.
I looked up at her, shocked that she had initiated this touch. Her eyes were full of concern. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” I told her as Brock’s truck pulled up.
“Well, if you look inside the red cooler, I got you several alcohol free beers.” Elle told me, gesturing with her head towards the red cooler.
“Alcohol free?” my eyebrows shot up.
“Tastes like real beer, looks like real beer, has zero alcohol to it. It will give your hands something to do, while everyone else is drinking,” Elle swallowed, pasting a smile on. “And…I’ll just be a phone call away...if you need an escape or something…okay?”
Elle’s gesture made my heart swell to epic proportions. I honestly thought the damn thing was going to explode in my chest. She sent me a wistful look before she turned around and started walking to the truck. She paused when she reached it to say something to Brock. Turning her head to look at me once more, she gave me the smallest smile before climbing into the cab. Brock closed the door behind her and watched as Tessa waved and backed up, turning around and driving back up the private access road.
My brother started walking over to me, running a hand through his hair. “Looks great, Braden,” he said, his eyes appraising the setup.
“Elle did most of it, I just followed instructions,” I shrugged, grinning.
“Did you really con her into helping you today?” Brock’s eyebrows lifted and he smirked, shaking his head at me.
“Not really,” I replied. I felt at odds with myself—with everything. Normally, we’d be shooting the shit while drinking a cold beer. My fingers twitched in my pocket. I eased up when I remembered my own stockpile. “Ask and ye shall receive and all that.”
The sound of tires crunching on the gravel had both Brock and me looking back towards the access road. Gordon’s black F150 pulled into view. He parked haphazardly and driver’s door opened. Gordon stood up, hanging on to the roof of the cab. “
Hey fuckers!” he called out to us. “Ready for a night of boozing and fishing?”
The rest of Tessa’s brothers—Tommy and Ben—climbed out of the cab, cases of beer in hand. “Just in case we run out,” Tommy grinned, setting the cases down beside the beer barrow.
“Wow, this is fancy as fuck,” Gordon added with a whistle as he checked out his surroundings and cracked open a beer. The other guys grabbed beers too, and I crossed over to the red cooler to grab one of my own—alcohol free.
Brock stormed over to me. “What the hell is that?” he demanded quietly, his eyes hard as he nodded his head towards the beer in my hand.
“Chill out,” I frowned, irritated. “They’re alcohol free. Elle grabbed them for me.” Brock visibly relaxed as I took a tentative sip, expecting it to taste like absolute shit but it wasn’t half bad.
“Sounds fruity,” Tommy joked.
“Don’t forget Tommy, I can still kick your ass,” I told him through narrowed eyes.
He threw back his head and laughed. “I’m just playing, man. Seriously. I’m proud of you,” he told me sincerely.
Grady and Steve showed up ten minutes later, and then a silver Lexus RX Hybrid pulled up. “Who’s that?” I asked Brock.
“Must be Grayson,” Brock shrugged. He started walking over to the Lexus to greet his friend while I hung back and worked on getting the fire started. Several minutes later, Brock returned with his friend in tow. “Guys, this is Grayson,” he said. “Grayson, this is Tommy, Gordon, Ben, Grady, and my brother Braden.”
“Hey,” Grayson said, nodding at us. Brock grabbed a beer and handed it to him.
True to his nature, Travis was the last to arrive—about an hour into the party. He pulled up in a red Mercedes.
“Way to be inconspicuous,” I shook my head.
“This is inconspicuous,” Travis shrugged with a playful grin, unaffected by my razzing. “I could have driven the Porsche.”
Gordon threw his arm across Travis’s shoulders. “Where are your body guards tonight?” he asked, just to provoke him.
Rebel Heart: (Rebel Series Book 2) ((Rebel Series)) Page 17
