Page 8 of Coming Home Country
Not that I knew it then, but I’d been played for a fool. Brooke had been right to laugh with her friends about how stupid I was. I should have known better. But where I came from, no one would dare think to pullthe kind of trick she did. So it hadn’t even occurred to me to request proof before doubling down and asking her to marry me on the spot.
To think I’d still be married to that conniving woman if I hadn’t overheard her bragging about her lies one day and filed for divorce the next.
I didn’t give a shit that she hired the best lawyermymoney could buy and demanded a majority of our marital assets. I was happy to give her whatever the hell she wanted so that I never had to see her face again.
And then I left Baltimore behind and came home. Started over in the town that raised me. My sister had arrived back in Rust Canyon the year before, fresh off her own divorce—though hers left her heartbroken—and we’d leaned on each other as we tried to ignore the gossip whispered around us.
Without Evie, I don’t know where I’d be today. And she felt the same about me.
I could have used her support this coming week, but she’d reconnected with her husband a few years back, and he played professional hockey in Indianapolis. Early May meant Jenner’s team was in the playoffs, and I couldn’t ask her to come down here with their three toddlers by herself because I needed my big sissy to hold my hand. I was a thirty-one-year-old man, for crying out loud.
This situation weighed on me more heavily than I expected. Probably because I thought I’d never see Bex again. Honestly, I was surprised she’d agreed to not only come home for this wedding but to stand opposite me, the maid of honor to my best man.
That tiny spark of hope in my chest grew the tiniest fraction.
Maybe moving on with someone new had brought her peace. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe she might ever forgive me, but perhaps we could work our way to a place of amicability. With our closest friends marryingeach other, this wouldn’t be the last time we were in the same room together.
And who knows? If there ever came a time when she wasn’t attached, I might be able to feel comfortable coming clean about the events that led to our relationship’s demise, and we could work through our issues.
Jeez. Now I sound as optimistic as Mac, thinking that spilling my guts will be enough to have her jumping right back into my arms as if nothing ever happened.
Truth of the matter was that Bex was the one. She always would be. I refused to move on because no one could ever take her place in my heart. If that meant I spent the rest of my days on this earth alone, so be it. Seemed like a fitting punishment for how badly I’d fucked up.
My alarm sounded, and I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.
Even if I was exhausted out of my mind, running on fumes, the silver lining was that today, I’d get to lay eyes on the love of my life for the first time in over a decade.
“You want help with that?” I hopped down from my truck parked behind the Sullivans’ barn to find Mac arranging large pieces of firewood to create a teepee-type structure for tonight’s bonfire.
He waved me off with a wink. “Nah, it’s probably better if I do it since I’m a professional.”
I cocked my head. “Professional what? Isn’t it your job to put out the fires, not start them?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, his face falling as that sank in. “Well, shit. You’re right.” Then he shook it off, his chipper mood returning as he grabbed more wood. “Doesn’t matter.”
It took effort not to laugh. Until two years ago, Mac was a verified city boy. He didn’t have decades of experience living in the country like the rest of us. Weekend bonfires were a common occurrence growing up out here; I could throw one together in my sleep. But this was his party, and I wasn’t about to put a damper on it if he wanted to build his own bonfire. Though, I would keep an eye on him, just in case.
Crunching gravel sounded, signaling the arrival of another vehicle.
Mac was hard at work and tossed over his shoulder. “That’s Aspen with the food supplies. Think you can give her a hand?”
Did I love the idea of being alone with Aspen? Not particularly. But I’d come here early to offer my help, and clearly, Mac didn’t think he needed any, so the bride became the recipient by default.
When the vehicle stopped on the far side of the barn, I hastened my steps, knowing that the quickest path to reach her was by walking through it. Expecting a flash of her fiery red hair, I sucked in a sharp breath when the woman standing at the opposite door had flowing chestnut locks instead. Though they were barely visible around the boxes blocking her vision.
Bex.
Like a shock to the system, my heart was revived at her presence.
I was frozen to the spot, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
That was, until the heel of her boot caught on a loose coil of rope on the ground because she couldn’t see where she was stepping, and she stumbled forward. The boxes flew into the air as she tried to catch her fall.
My body jolted forward, feet moving on instinct before my brain caught up. But I was too late.
A sharp cry rang out, echoing off the high ceilings of the barn, when she hit the hard concrete floor of the aisle. She’d landed with her hands outstretched, the right one having connected first, taking the brunt of the fall. I had a strong suspicion that her wrist was broken when Bex immediately cradled it against her chest, tears flowing down her cheeks as she rocked, breathing through the pain.
Crouching beside her, I alerted her to my presence by commanding softly, “Let me take a look.”
