“Amanda?” Sean rolls his eyes. “They dated back in high school. She never fully got over him.”
I groan. “Why couldn’t he get over me with some random trollop?” The stars begin to swirl in the sky. I hand the bottle back to him. “Thanks, Sean.”
Without saying another word, I throw my hand in the air and walk away, not towards Beau’s truck but in the direction of the entrance.
I don’t know if Sean said something, but I only get a few yards away the road before Beau chases me down. He puts a hand on my arm, stopping me. I turn slowly, exaggerating my movements.
“Where you are going?” Beau asks.
“Oh, now you remember I exist.”
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Baby?” My voice has gotten annoyingly high-pitched. “Beau, you haven’t looked at me since Ah-man-duuh came up and threw herself at you. Who is sh-eee to you?”
Beau’s hand goes to the back of his head. He rubs at his hair. “She’s not important.”
I glare at him. “She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? God, I’m so stupid! Does she know you cheated on her last night?”
Beau sighs. “She’s my ex-girlfriend but that was a long time ago. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
I laugh, not a “ha-ha this is funny” laugh but a “ha this is a load of malarkey” laugh.
“She’s obviously more important than I am.”
Beau lets out an exaggerated sigh. “How do you even know her name ?”
“Like that even matters at this point.” I laugh again. Stupid drunken giggles.
“What about this is funny, Mallory?”
I throw my hands up in the air, defeated. “I don’t know why I thought we were gonna fix things. Last night was obviously one last hoorah for you.”
“Mallory—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off.
“Congratulations, Beau. You got down my pants again.”
“This never been about the sex and you know that.”
“Sure, Beau. Whatever you say. You can go back to girlfriend. I’m going home. My home.” I turn my back to him.
“Mallory,” Beau calls out.
“Don’t come after me, Beau. You had your chance.” I walk back toward the party. Beau stands there, watching me, not bothering to try to get me to stay.
“Hey, Sean!” I holler. He stands on his tailgate.
“Sup, Mallory?”
“Can you give me a ride to the airport?”
“When?”
“Now?”
“Sure,” Sean says, without hesitation. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 44
Beau
I’m frozen in place as Mallory gets in Sean’s truck, watching them drive away. How does she even know him?
I think I’m in shock. I honestly don’t know what just happened. Every time I looked over my shoulder at Mallory she seemed fine, dancing with Jess and drinking, just like old times. But then she was gone, and I went to find her as soon as I realized it.
Kevin mentioned Mallory had stumbled off past the trucks. I panicked, fearing she was in trouble again. But when I found her, she wasn’t happy to see me. She was pissed. I don’t get it, but now I’m alone and empty again.
I can only imagine what I must look like walking back to the party without Mallory. Jess nudges Rob’s shoulder, he looks up from his phone.
“You okay?” Rob asks.
I shake my head. Rob looks behind me, he must realize Mallory’s gone again.
“Beau, what did you do to her this time?” Rob asks, the irritation in his voice indisputable.
I look up at him. “Why do you care so much? Are you in love with her too? I bet she’s been two-timing me all along with you and that fucktard Sean she left with.”
“She left with Sean?” Jess asks.
Rob’s ears turn red and his eyebrows scrunch together. I see the hand coming at me in slow motion.
Rob balls his fist, draws back, and punches me in the face. The blow throws my head to the left and my vision blurs for a minute. I probably deserve it, but all I see is red.
I draw back, swinging at him like a skilled ninja. I feel like a boss but am moving like a turtle. Rob dodges my swing and hits me again. A sticky wet liquid drips off my lip. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, grit my teeth and swing again. My fist hits Rob’s jaw. At some point I hear Jess (I think it was Jess) scream. Rob counters my hit with a blow to my eye, he then kicks my legs out from under me and I hit the ground. Rob crawls on top of me and gets two more solid hits in before Kevin breaks us up.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” Kevin asks, pulling Rob off me.
“He jumped me for no reason!” I yell.
Rob throws up his hand, flipping me the bird.
“Cock-sucker.” I know Rob hates being called that. Kevin jumps in between us, holding us apart. Rob turns and sits on the tailgate beside Jess. She looks at his eye and jaw and gives him stupid sympathy kisses on the places I hit.
“Dude. What the hell?” Kevin says to me.
“He accused me of sleeping with Mallory!” Rob yells over to us.
Kevin’s going to make a great dad one day. He has the “I’m very disappointed in you” glare down pat. I should know, because that’s how he’s looking at me right now. I let out a loud, exasperated sigh and throw my hands up.
“I’m sorry. I’m a dick,” I say, looking at Rob.
“It’s good, man. I get it. Women make you do stupid shit sometimes.”
“Where’s Mallory?” Kevin asks.
I drop my gaze to my feet and kick at the ground. “She’s gone again. I don’t even know what I did.”
Kevin puts a hand on my shoulder and chuckles. It’s one of those “son, you have a lot to learn” laughs.
“Dude, you were giving Amanda more attention in twenty minutes than you’ve given Mallory since you walked out here with her.”
I groan.
“He’s right,” Jess says. “You got your girl back and then blew her off. Class act right there.”
I kick the ground again.
“So what are you going to do?” Rob asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
Rob slides off the tailgate and gives me a hug. “I kicked your ass.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you did.”
Rob pats me on the back then put both hands on my shoulders. “I love you, brother, but you’re a dumbass. You need to get on the next flight and go get your girl. Now.”
I shrug. “I don’t know where she lives.”
Jess slides her arms around Rob’s waist. She looks up at me with the biggest grin on her face I’ve ever seen. “I do.”
Chapter 45
Mallory
I see the shadow before I see him. His hands are in the pockets of his shorts, shoulders slumped forward. I immediately know who it is. Taking a sip of my drink, I wait for the conversation I don’t want to have.
“Hey, Mallory,” he says, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline. “When’d you get back?”
“Early this morning. Took the red eye. How’d you find me, Tristan?”
Tristan sits down in the sand under the shade of my umbrella. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. I refuse to turn my head. My dark glasses create the illusion of me looking at the water, and for that I’m grateful.
Tristian looks good. Not breathtakingly good like Beau, but just as handsome as I remember. His blue button-down shirt is untucked and looks pristine against his knee-length pastel pink shorts. Tan boat shoes sit in the sun beside him while his toes dig in the sand. He needs a hat, or maybe sunglasses so he doesn’t have to squint in the sun. Old me would have given him mine. New me couldn’t give two shits.
“Maria, your housekeeper, told me you needed to get away.” Tristian shrugs. “This was your spot when you were upset.”
I nod once. In all the years we were together, after all the fights, Tristian never follo
wed me here. I wanted him to. God, I wanted him to be that kind of man back then, but he never could be. And now that I don’t need him to comfort me, he shows up. Figures. I sip my drink.
“I see you’re still an alcoholic,” Tristian says it in such a matter-of-fact way it pisses me off.
I turn to him and take my sunglasses off. I want him to see my frustration, my anger, my hatred for him. He needs to see it all.
“And whose fault is that?” I growl.
He raises his hand, eyes downcast.
At least he admits it.
“Don’t be mad at Maria. She just worries about you. We all do,” Tristian says.
I put my glasses back on and lie back in my chair.
“Like you care. What the hell do you want from me?”
Tristan’s mouth gapes open. “You’ve never talked like this before. Mallory, what happened to you?”
“I’ve been in Georgia,” I scoff.
Tristian’s brows push together. He’s waiting for me to elaborate and probably waiting for me to beg him to take me back. Fat chance.
“I learned a lot in Georgia…”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. Tristan digs his fingers under the sand, dirtying his perfect hands. Soft, dainty hands. Hands that have never done a hard day’s work.
Unlike Beau. Shoot! Stop thinking about him.
“I learned how to get over you. I learned all men are the same, nothing but jerks. So, I’m going to ask you one more time. What do you want?”
Tristian’s eyes search my face for further explanation to what I just said. He’s smart. He can read between the lines. He fingers the sand, grasping a handful of it only to let it drizzle back down beside him.
“Do you ever wonder what we could have been?”
“No,” I deadpan.
He stares off at the horizon for a few moments before saying. “I want to get back together.”
I choke on my drink. “You’re joking.”
“I’m serious, Mallory.”
Tristian’s eyes rise, meeting mine. They’re sad. I’ve seen too many sad eyes lately, but unlike Beau’s, Tristan’s aren’t sorry.
“We were good together. You know my triggers and vices.”
“You mean I know how to hide the bruises when you drink too much.”
Tristan shakes his head, exhaling loudly. “Together, with your name and mine, we could have it all.”
It sounds like Tristian’s making a business proposal instead of begging me to take him back.
“I’m sorry about what happened with me and Britney. We were both drunk, and it happened.”
Did he honestly just say ‘it happened’? Like you slipped and fell, and your dick ended up inside my best friend?
“How many times?”
Tristan rubs the back of his neck. “Do we need to get into this?”
I nod. His silence says more than he realizes. “I figured as much.”
Tristian shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mallory. But you and me, we are good together. I guess…I was just hoping we could find new ways to fall apart.”
I almost feel bad for Tristian because in that twisted mind of his, he misses me. But he did this to us and honestly, I’m better for it.
“Tristan, I loved you once. I loved you with all of my heart and would have done anything and everything for you, but I will never be with you again. There are so many people out there that will treat me better than you did. I deserve better.”
He lets out a long, loud exhale.
I sit back in my chair. “Besides, you tried to win me back with lyrics from a Fun song. You’re pathetic.”
Neither one of us says anything. Tristan sits for another minute or two trying to intimidate me with that glare of his.
Finally, Tristian stands and says, “You know I’m still in the wedding.”
“I figured as much, you being my brother’s best friend and all.”
“So, I’ll see you tonight?” He sounds hopeful.
Why wouldn’t I go to my brother’s wedding?
“Guess so.”
“Save me a dance?”
I laugh. “Don’t hold your breath.”
Chapter 46
Beau
The flight to Florida is relatively short, right around two hours, but it feels like an eternity. Every passing minute ticks by at a snail slow pace while I wait for the flight attendant to set me free.
Finally, I’m off the plane. Weaving my way through crowds of people, I run to the first rental car stand I can find.
“I need the fastest car you’ve got,” I say, panting and out of breath. The kid behind the counter looks at me strangely.
Is he dense? Car! Now!
“Business or pleasure, my man.” The kid has a surfer-stoner tone to his voice. I can’t help but laugh. Only in Florida…
“I’m here to get my girl back and I needed to get to her like yesterday.”
“Wicked,” the kid says, nodding. A hand runs through his dirty-blond hair, pushing it out of his eyes while he types something into his computer.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Seriously? How long does it take to find a car?
Finally, he says, “I’ve got something that’ll do the trick, but it’s an extra fifty dollars a day.”
“Done.” I say, handing the kid my credit card and license.
After practically signing my life away, I finally get the go ahead and follow the airport signs to the rental agency’s holding lot. I hand the attendant my receipt and a few minutes later he pulls up in a silver Porsche 911.
Hell yeah!
I sling my bag in the trunk (which oddly enough was under the front hood of the car), put the top down, and peel out of the parking lot.
Unlike my truck, it’s a stick shift and the horses purr between gears like angry lions. The in car navigation system says it should take an hour and a half to get to Mallory’s house (thank you, Jess), but in this beast I make it there in forty-five minutes.
Mallory’s house is huge, not as luxurious as her Aunt’s place, but the two story riverfront estate is bigger than anything I’ve ever lived in. Putting the car in park, I jump out and run up the steps. My heart’s racing.
What if she’s not home?
What if she slams the door in my face?
I can’t worry about that. Being here should count for something. I don’t chase girls, never have. She has to know that. Right?
I raise my fist and freeze. I can’t do this. I’ve hurt her so much already. What if being here hurts her more? Defeated, I turn.
Three steps.
I make it three steps before the large wooden door behind me swings open.
How’d she know I’m here?
Stopping in my tracks, I look back.
“Can I help you, dear?” An elderly woman stands in the doorway with a welcoming grin plastered on her wrinkled face. She wipes her hands on her apron then waves me over.
“Yes, ma’am. I need to speak to Mallory. Please.”
The woman’s eyes scan me, brows pushing together. Recognition spreads across her face. “Oh, you must be that Georgia boy I’ve heard so much about.”
I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “Well, ma’am, that depends. Have you heard good or bad things about me?”
“A bit of both, dear. I’m afraid Miss. Cross isn’t here.”
Cross? How did I not know Mallory’s last name? I’m such a shitty boyfriend.
“She’s getting ready for the wedding.”
Wedding? Did Mallory go back to that douchebag Tristan? My palms began to sweat, so I wipe them on my jeans.
“If you hurry, dear, you might be able to catch her before it’s too late.”
The woman disappears into the hallway. When she returns, she hands me a folded piece of paper with an address inside.
Yes!
I give the woman a hug, picking her up off her feet.
She laughs.
Setting her down, I turn on my heels and run. I jump into the car without opening the door, plug the address into the navigation system and go.
Before I know it, I’ve made it to the beachside of Fort Lauderdale.
Seriously, are there no cops around here?
I throw the valet at the Sheraton Hotel my keys and hurry up the steps. A sign in the lobby points down a corridor, welcoming guests for the Cross and Doyle wedding.
Doyle.
What kind of last name is that? Tristan Doyle. It’s a stupid name.
There’s no backing out now.
Placing both hands on the white wooden doors, I push and they fly open with a thud that echoes throughout the room.
“Don’t do it!” I yell, running down the aisle.
At least a hundred eyes turn to me, bride and groom included. It’s then I notice the bride. She’s breathtaking in her big white dress, but she’s not Mallory.
Mallory stands beside the bride in a long coral gown. Her jaw is dropped. Face pale. Eyes wide. My stomach sinks to my feet. She’s horrified to see me.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Shit, everyone,” I say, hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I thought Mallory was the one getting married.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Beau?” Mallory yells from the front of the room.
“Beau?” The groom says. It’s more of a statement than a question. Mallory’s head nods once but I’m not sure if even she knows she did it.
I start up the aisle towards her but the groom meets me a few feet from the first row. He has the same dark hair and blue eyes as Mallory.
This must be her brother.
The groom draws back. I know what’s coming. There’s no point in stopping it. I deserve this. I crushed his sister’s heart. I barged into his wedding. My face jolts to the left when his fist connects with my cheek. A sticky liquid leaks from my nose. I wipe it with the back of my hand.
Blood.
Great.
Chapter 47
Mallory
“Don’t do it!” Beau’s voice bounces off the vaulted ceiling. Everyone in the room turns in their seats to see who’s burst through the doors.
My jaw hangs agape. I look around. Everyone’s watching the uninvited stranger in faded blue jeans and a yellow Cinch T-shirt take long strides up the aisle. He stops short, a few feet before the first row of chairs. Wide, brown eyes bounce from Kelly to me.
Can't Let Go Page 13
