Page 4 of Until the End

I implore her to find Carson for me, even going so far as to tell her it’s an emergency. It isn’t, technically, but I know the urgency will work.

The doorknob twists, and I thank my past self for having the forethought to lock it before I left. “Ginny, please open the door. You’re going to be late for the ceremony,” Cecelia calls.

There isn’t going to be a ceremony, but I’m not about to tell her that. She’s one of the reasons I’m sobbing on the floor right now.

How did I let my life turn into this?

“Goose? It’s me. Will you open the door?”

Hearing my nickname has fresh tears streaking down my cheeks. I move closer to the door. “It’s just you?”

He pauses. “Yeah, it’s just me.”

I open the door to Carson’s gorgeous face. His eyes widen, but he quickly schools his features. I must look like a mess to get that reaction out of him. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

I pull him into the room by his suit jacket. The door closes behind him with a click, and I wrap my arms around his waist, tight enough for my muscles to ache. “Get me out of here, Carson.”

He pulls away, only far enough to look down at me. “What?”

I tilt my head back. Carson’s emerald-green eyes search my face for answers. “I need to get out of here. Right now. I can’t go out there. I can’t do this.” I bite down on my lip to stop the flow of words. I’ll break down if I say any more, and we’ll miss our opportunity to sneak out.

Determination fills his face, and he nods. “Okay, let’s go.” He looks around the room, spotting my bag and scooping it up. Then he’s back at my side to lead us out of the room.

“Wait.”

He freezes. I turn back to the secret passageway and open the door. “What do you think our chances are of finding a way out through here?”

Carson grins. “Really good. At the very least, we’ll be able to sneak around the people waiting in the hallway.” He strides across the room and takes my hand. He’s still holding my tote bag as he leads us in the opposite direction of the groomsmen’s suite.

“Do you know where you’re going?” I whisper.

“Not a clue. But I’m betting this passageway runs parallel to the main hallway. If I’m right, the back exit should be at the end. Otherwise, why else would they have a secret passage?”

“Murder?”

Carson snorts. “Given the creep factor of this place, that’s not a bad guess.”

“Remind me to tell the Scooby-Doo Gang this story once everything dies down.” When we were little, me, Carson, and our four other best friends dubbed ourselves the Scooby-Doo Gang because we were constantly going on pretend adventures. We’d make up cases to solve or buried treasure to find. It stuck even through our teenage years, and now our parents use it to reference our group.

“You got it.”

We’re quiet as we walk to the end of the passageway. Carson opens the door to check if the hallway is clear. He waves me forward, grabbing my hand again to lead me through the side exit. The parking lot is directly in front of us, and we take off for the cars. No one is around to catch us, but it feels like we’re on a prison break.

In some ways, I am.

Being married to a man who had no issue cheating on me on our wedding day would’ve been a life sentence.

Sneaking out has adrenaline pumping through me, and I feel lighter than I have in months.

Carson presses the button on his key fob, and the headlights flash on a navy blue Jeep. He opens the passenger door for me, helping me into the seat with his hands around my hips. I ignore the little tingle his touch sends across my skin. I’ve been ignoring that feeling since we were teenagers—so often that it’s pretty much a habit at this point.

Carson runs around the front and gets into the driver’s side. We sit silently for a second, both of us trying to make sense of the fact that I just ran away from my wedding and he helped me escape.

I crack first. Giggles bubble out of me as the sheer madness of the last half hour gets the best of me. Carson follows suit, laughing as loudly as I am. His deep baritone laugh makes me shiver. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him laugh like that.

When we finally get a hold of ourselves, reality crashes in with his words. “You should text Gia. She was really worried about you.”

“I’m not ready to answer her questions.”

---