by Lexi Ryan
Gravel crunches behind me. Somehow, I know Marston’s here before I ever turn to look at him, and his presence is a balm to my battered heart.
“It’s as beautiful as ever,” he says, lowering himself to sit beside me on the top of the cool concrete ramp. He’s scruffier than usual today, as if he didn’t bother shaving this morning, and I have to fight the instinct to reach out and run my fingertips over that dark stubble.
“I never knew about this spot until you took me here on homecoming night,” I admit. “And then it became my favorite place to think and brood when I was sad.”
He studies me, lips parted, eyes searching. He probably thinks I’m sad about my breakup.
I am, sort of. I’m sad I hurt Julian. I’m sad I didn’t know myself well enough to see I was making a major mistake, and sad it took an impulsive marriage to a man I can’t have to open my eyes. I’m sad I’ve spent years patting myself on the back for my independence and for going after my dreams with hard work and not my family’s money, only to realize I’ve been leaning on the promise of it all this time. “I’m meeting up with the girls tonight, and I want to shake off this funk before I see them.”
“Do you want to talk it out?” Marston asks softly.
I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my knees. “I spoke with my parents today to let them know we’re canceling the wedding.”
Marston’s mouth draws into a thin line. “I wish you would’ve let me go with you.”
I huff out a breath. “If you’d been with me, it would’ve been an even bigger disaster.”
“I take it the news of our marriage didn’t go over well?”
I wince. “I didn’t tell them about that.”
He cuts his eyes to me. “Why not?”
I shrug. “It’d only make everything worse. I didn’t see a reason to upset them over something. . .”
“Something you plan to undo as soon as possible,” he says. There’s no judgment in his voice, only a quiet resignation.
“Those plans haven’t changed. I told you last night.” I just need to figure out why I can’t bring myself to fill out the paperwork and then get over it.
He stands and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sun. “You always wanted to pretend you didn’t care what they thought, but even now you let them dictate your life.”
“I don’t.” I stand too and step in front of him so we’re facing each other. “They haven’t dictated my life in a long time. You don’t get to pretend nothing changed just because you weren’t around to see it.”
He flinches then looks away again and nods. “Fair.”
I reach for him but drop my hand before I touch his arm. “I guess that hasn’t changed.”
His eyes flick to me. “What?”
“The way the air between us goes tense and cold when the subject of my parents comes up.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I wait for him to say something else about them. He has every right to. They treated him terribly. “My mom used to like me to send her pictures of the lake,” he says, surprising me. “She said she liked seeing that I was living in a little slice of heaven.” He shakes his head and bends to pick up a pebble from the dock. “I never let her know that my year here wasn’t all sunshine and roses.”
I swallow hard at the reminder that Marston of all people understands what it’s like to love and be loved by someone who’s profoundly imperfect. “How’s your mom doing, anyway?”
Marston stills where he’s stooped.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I’m pretty sure the rules of etiquette my parents live by say you don’t ask about the addict family member who’s dropped out of rehab a dozen times. But I know it’s important to Marston, and—inconvenient paper marriage or not—I care about him.
He swallows and stands, turning to me. “She passed away during my freshman year of college.”
My stomach clenches. “Oh, Marston. I’m so sorry.”
He tosses the pebble into the lake. “She’d been abusing pills and alcohol for too long and stopped cold turkey—trying to do it on her own when she knew better. It was just too hard on her body.”
I try to imagine what that was like for him, but I can only hope he had someone to hold his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“You know, it sucked, but I try to see the good in it, if that makes sense?” He rubs his fingers together, as if he can still feel the stone there, even though it’s gone. “She was trying—she went out trying to be a better mom. They found her in bed, like she’d gone to sleep and just never woken up.”
“That must’ve been awful.”
“In some ways, it hurt like crazy. In my head, I had a hundred arguments with my dead mother where I yelled and screamed at her for being so stupid, for not doing it the right way. But I like to think that wherever she is now, she knows she went out trying to do the right thing for her kid—because it didn’t matter how old I was, that was how she thought of me. I like to think she’s found some peace knowing that.”
I don’t care that it’s been ten years. I don’t care that goodbye will be harder if I don’t keep my distance from him. I know this man, and the grief in his eyes when he talks about his mom reminds me so much of how I still feel about my sister. I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him. I hug the friend I had and the man he became—understanding in the way someone who’s only experienced loss can that he’s both of those people at the same time, and they’re both hurting. “I’m so sorry.”
His voice is as rough as the gravel beneath my feet. “Thank you.”
I bury my face in his chest. He’s so damn tall, and it’s the only way I know how to give him a real hug. He strokes my hair, and for a beat it feels like he’s comforting me. This is what I needed those days after Brittany died. My parents didn’t know how to let me grieve, wouldn’t or couldn’t share their pain, and I needed them to help me but didn’t know how to ask for it. I’m not sure I even realized how good a hug would’ve felt. “I hope you weren’t alone,” I whisper, remembering the isolation of loss. “I hope you had friends to carry you through.”
“I had Aunt Lori. It was hard, but it wasn’t a huge shock. And I dealt with my grief the way I dealt with all other too-big emotions. I threw myself into my schoolwork.”
I pull back and wipe away tears I didn’t realize I’d shed. I go to take another step back, but he grabs my chin and looks into my eyes.
“Thank you, Brinley.” He drops his hand, but I don’t move. “Most of the people who know about my complicated relationship with my mother think I didn’t or shouldn’t have grieved. It means a lot that you get it. I’m glad you found a family you could share your grief with too.”
“Family?”
He arches a brow. “Savvy, Abbi, and Stella? They’re your family now. I can tell. They’re protective of you and love you unconditionally.” He gives me a sad smile. “If I don’t get to hold your hand through the shit the world will throw your way, I’m glad you have them.”
How am I supposed to guard my heart against this man when he knows it so well?
Chapter Twenty-One
Brinley
“Tonight, drinks are on me,” Stella says as we head into Smithy’s.
“You don’t need to spend your money on my drinks,” I say. Especially since, come Monday, all of our jobs are up in the air.
She shrugs. “I don’t need to, but I want to.” She gives me a sad smile. “I just went through a breakup too. Let me treat you in solidarity.”
“You ready to talk about that breakup yet?” I ask.
She ignores me. “Ooh! Ten-dollar pitchers tonight!”
I frown at my friend, who’s rubbing her hands together as she studies the sign advertising the special. “I thought you didn’t like beer.”
“Hate it, and don’t you go thinking it’s a beer night for you either. You canceled your wedding. This calls for the hard stuff.”
I’m thrilled to be spending a rare girl
s’ night at Smithy’s, but the truth is, thanks to my talk with Marston at the dock, I would’ve been okay if my girls couldn’t get together. It’s funny that my talk with Marston was exactly what I needed to knock off some stress when a few days ago, it felt like Marston was my biggest stressor. But it was good to connect with him today—good to know he understands where I stand on us, and good for us to open up to each other. It doesn’t matter that he’s leaving soon or that I need to file for divorce. He’ll always be one of my favorite humans.
“I told you I’m fine.” I spot Abbi and Savvy in a booth opposite the entrance and point their way. “They’re already here.”
Stella waves at them but saunters to the bar. “Smithy, baby, we need a pitcher of cosmos,” she says, batting her lashes sweetly.
“I’m sure you do, baby girl,” he says, “but that’s not actually a thing.”
Stella flips her hair over her shoulder and leans over the bar, giving Smithy a generous view of the cleavage already spilling out of her hot-pink halter dress. “But shouldn’t it be?”
“I can make it, but the special applies to beer, not booze.”
“Please? My girl had a shit week and a shittier day.” She bites her red lip, and I snort at how thick she’s laying it on. Stella has never been interested in my cousin, but she loves tormenting him. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a pretty big fan of her particular brand of torture.
“Fuck me, woman. You don’t play fair.”
Straightening, she beams. “You can bring it to the table. Thanks, Smithy.” She throws him a wink over her shoulder as she saunters away, hips swishing, and my cousin doesn’t take his eyes off her until she slides into the booth.
I slide him my credit card. “Charge us whatever is fair.”
“Nah, I got you.” Smithy pushes the card back to me. “Least I can do. Sorry everything’s so messed up right now.”
Smithy is rarely serious, and I want to squirm under his sympathetic gaze, but the word is out, so I’m going to need to learn to deal. “Listen, I run a business too. I know you can’t give everyone special deals. It’s fine.”
Smithy takes my card. I have a sneaking suspicion he won’t run it, but at least I tried. “Why don’t you talk to Stella for me? Convince her to give me a shot?”
Aww. This poor guy. “I thought you wanted Savvy.”
“Um, yes to either? Or preferably both—at the same time?” He winks at me, back to his fun-loving self.
“I’ll let them know you mentioned it,” I lie. I cast a glance around the bar. “Hey, have you seen Marston around tonight?”
“Nah. Haven’t seen him since Julian took a swing at him.”
I wince. “I’m sorry about that. I never would’ve expected Julian to come in here and make trouble.”
His lips twitch. “I can handle him. In fact, after what Abbi told Kace about the way he’s been acting this week, I’d like a chance to handle him.”
“Don’t do that.” I smile. “Thanks again for your help with that. If Marston comes in, don’t bring up anything about Julian? I don’t want things to get ugly if they run into each other again.”
Smithy grumbles something under his breath about Julian deserving ugly, but I decide it’s close enough to agreement and head back to sit with the girls.
Savvy looks over my shoulder as I slide into the booth. “Please tell me Smithy’s coming with the booze.”
“I told you I took care of it,” Stella says.
“You said you ordered a pitcher of cosmos,” Abbi says. “That’s not a thing.”
Stella rolls her eyes. “It’s totally a thing, ladies.”
Savvy shakes her head and shifts her attention to me. Her mouth pulls into a grimace, as if she can see every bit of this morning’s stress written on my face. “How’re you holding up, Brinley?”
“I’ve been better,” I admit. “Damn it, ladies, I feel like I owe you all a big apology.”
“What?” Abbi squeaks. “Why?”
“Are you kidding? Look at this mess.” I tick off the reasons on my fingers. “You all already bought your bridesmaid dresses.”
“They’re sexy, red, and knee-length,” Savvy says, waving a hand. “Totally usable elsewhere.”
I go to my second finger. “You took time off work for my bachelorette party.”
Stella holds up a hand. “What? Why’s that canceled?”
“God, you’re so pretty,” Savvy says, shaking her head.
Stella sticks her tongue out at Savvy. “Shut up. I’ve been looking forward to getting trashed in Atlanta with you bitches for months.”
“There’s no wedding,” I say. “No wedding means no bachelorette party.”
“So we call it something else,” Stella says. “No reason to change plans altogether.”
“Girls’ weekend,” Abbi agrees, nodding and pointing to me. “I like it. And you need it.”
“Oh my God, you guys are spending all your free time cleaning up my messes.” I look toward the bar, totally ready for Smithy to save the day with a pitcher full of vodka.
“Yeah, a weekend drinking with you would be a hardship,” Savvy deadpans.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “I feel awful, and God only knows what’s going to happen to The Orchid now.”
Abbi frowns and studies me. “But you don’t regret it, do you?”
“No. I don’t. I regret agreeing to marry him in the first place. I regret not listening to my gut—”
“Was that your gut saying don’t do it?” Savvy asks. “Because I could’ve sworn that was me.”
“And I regret whatever reckless instinct made me marry Marston in Vegas and then forget it. But I—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stella shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I call bullshit.”
My eyes go wide. “What? If I hadn’t forgotten, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes to Julian, and then I never would’ve been in this mess.”
She waves a hand. “Not that. The part about marrying Marston? I call bullshit that you’re regretting that. I think this whole thing with him has been a blessing in disguise. He showed up, and suddenly you had to take a real close look at what you were doing with Julian. He saved you from that disaster, and now you get to consider if maybe there’s still a chance for you and Mars. Zero regrets.”
“Is that what you all think?” I ask.
The other girls are suddenly very interested in their manicures.
But leave it to Stella to speak her mind. “You weren’t marrying Julian for yourself, honey. Everyone knows that. Even Julian knows that. He was the choice you should want. Your parents like him, he’s financially stable, and you’d get to play savior to everyone at The Orchid.”
I guess that’s probably partly true, but again, embarrassing.
“But Marston,” she says, her smile growing devious. “Even in the beginning, back when you were sixteen and innocent as a nun, Marston was one hundred percent for you.”
I swallow. I don’t want to think about that too much. As much as I’d like to give me and Marston a chance, I don’t want to leave Orchid Valley, and he doesn’t want to live here. I’ve worked too hard to make my life my own to surrender it now, and even if the whole living situation weren’t an issue, I don’t know if I want the kind of intensity and passion that come hand in hand with loving Marston. It scares me. “Anyway,” I say, weaving around that landmine. “I’m really sorry.”
“Have you told Cami yet?” Savvy asks gently.
I nod. “Yeah, and I don’t think any of it was real to her. It was like we were planning to have this fancy party, and now the party’s been canceled.” Thank God I never let Julian ask her to call him Dad. He’d been pushing for that for a while, and I said it wouldn’t be fair to Roman. But again, I think part of me knew. “Mostly, I think she’s worried about me.”
“She’s a good egg,” Savvy says.
“But what I want to know is have you told Marston yet,” Abbi says, leaning forward.
I laugh. “Actually, Julian told him when he got shitfaced and tried to take a swing at Marston.”
“Did Marston beat the shit out of him?” Savvy asks. “Julian must’ve been plowed if he thought he could win that fight.”
I rub my temples. I don’t like to think about it. Julian’s been acting out of character all week, and I can’t help but feel responsible. “Marston said he dodged the swings. I think he was too focused on getting to me to hand Julian’s ass to him.”
“Wait, Marston came to your house last night?” Savvy asks, eyes wide. “Details, please.”
Oops. I scan the table, willing our martinis to appear. “I’m gonna need a drink first.”
“Oh my God!” Stella cups her hands around her mouth and shouts across the bar, “Smithy, who do I have to blow to get those drinks?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marston
When I walk into Smithy’s, Brinley is the first thing I see. She stands out like a beacon, sitting at a big table with her friends, her head thrown back as she laughs. She’s changed out of the tight black pants and blouse she was wearing at the lake and now she’s in a pair of jeans and a blue halter top that shows off her tan shoulders.
“You’re staring.”
I turn to Smithy and shrug. “Can you blame me? Look at her.”
His brows disappear beneath his shaggy mop of hair. “Look at all of them. So much hotness in that corner. If insurance knew, they’d make me keep the fire marshal on standby.”
I chuckle. He’s right. Each woman in that group is beautiful in her own way, but I can’t take my eyes off Brinley when she’s smiling like that.
“Are you going to go over there or just stare all night?” he asks.
“I don’t want to interrupt her fun.”
“She and Julian broke up.” He grabs me by one shoulder and gives me a shake. “This is the moment you’ve been training for, soldier!”
Grunting, I nod to the bar. “Get me a beer, meddler.”
