Page 7 of His Hot Mess

I felt it.

But I hated being vulnerable. I couldn’t fucking stand feeling that way. Exposed. Raw. Open.

A memory hit me then. Blindsided me, more like it.

I was lying in bed with Jessica, confessing that as a kid I used to be terrified that one day we’d find out my father had died. As a kid I always felt some level of comfort in knowing he was still alive, because it kept open the possibility he could come back. But this comfort came with the constant threat of the opposite. What if he was dead? What if I had to go to his funeral having never met him? I’d spend sleepless nights thinking about inconsequential details, what shoes I’d choose to wear for his funeral. Like I wanted to impress him even if he was gone.

Jessica had stroked my cheek, comforted me… then a month later had literally run from my arms, her wedding gown trailing behind her. All the people in the pews had gasped, their hands over their mouths, while I was left staring at my shiny-ass dress shoes next to a priest whose jaw hung open like a barn door. All I could think as I looked down at my feet wasthese would make good funeral shoes.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I took a corner, willing my stupid brain to wipe the images away.

It had been a while since I thought of that particular moment—what was supposed to be my wedding day—when my childhood sweetheart ripped my heart out in front of all our family and friends. Sometimes it helped, in a macabre kind of way, to picture her doing it literally. Reaching in and plucking my still-beating heart from my chest, holding it aloft with blood running down her arm as she laughs maniacally.

It wasn’t that I didn’t think about Jessica ever—I tried my best not to, but shit, three years later and I was still burned and bitter. Jessica leaving like that had cemented my decision to never let things get to that point again. To never make myself that vulnerable. I knew what could happen, and I had no need to make my heart a punching bag ever again.

I scowled as I pulled off on my turn. How had I ended up thinking about this?

Sadie.

All I’d wanted to do when I saw Sadie slide in next to me at the diner was rile her up the way I had at Graydon’s when I’d first met her last year. I still thought about the way her cheeks went pink and her little nose scrunched up as she insisted to me how wrong I was about the best bratwurst sausages. I still couldn’t believe we’d been arguing about sausages. Who gets pissed off about bratwurst?

The first time I’d met her she’d gone off on me too. I’d tried to tell Lucy calling Graydon on the phone would probably work just as well as the shit-ton of expensive fireworks I’d helped her buy. “Graydon’s a simple guy.”

“You don’t know athingabout romance, do you?” Sadie had said. She’d been sitting behind me in the cab of my truck, and I could feel her there, making the back of my neck prickle with something warm and fuzzy.

“Maybe not,” I’d said. “But I know Graydon, and he’s pretty easy to please.”

Sadie had made this exasperated sound and I’d had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning. Provoking her was too much fun. But the sight of Lucy in the passenger seat practically wringing her hands into a knot made me bite my tongue. She had a plan, and I didn’t know her well enough to know if she might chicken out like Jessica had. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend Graydon, so I’d kept my mouth shut.

Lucy had us take care of the fireworks while she went out to find Graydon on the lake. How she’d known he’d be out there was beyond me.

Thank god Sadie and I had stopped arguing long enough to get them all set off. It was a complicated bit of work, lighting off those fireworks in sequence, and we’d worked silently, smoke billowing around us, running to the side and covering our ears as each one went off. By the end we were sweating our asses off, breathing hard next to each other.

We even hugged at the end, which had stunned me into even more silence.

I’d only met her twice. But I hadn’t forgotten her. When she’d sat down next to me at the diner, I’d had to hold myself back from doing a cartoon-style double-take.

I could have just given her some pointers on her business plan and kept it simple.

If she’d have let me.

Instead she’d been a pain in the ass, too proud to even open herself up for some simple tips.

Maybe if you hadn’t made fun of her?

Embarrassment flared in my chest, supplanting the old pain that had been settling in there. What the hell was I doing? I didn’t know how to talk to a woman—it had been so long since I’d had to have anything but a professional conversation with one.

So how was this different?

Sadie and I didn’t have a professional relationship. We didn’t haveanyrelationship. That was that.

My phone buzzed in its holder on the dash. It was Graydon.

I punched the speaker button, glad for the distraction. “How goes the sexting?”

Graydon choked on something on the other end of the phone.

I could hear the loud clinking of dishes and people talking. Gray had to be at Aubrey’s—we must have just missed each other.

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