Chapter 54
“H ow’d you get in here?” I grumble to Zeus, who I hear whining by the door.
Ever must’ve let him in sometime during the night but made the mistake of closing the door after. She’s never had a pet. She doesn’t know they gotta go out to pee.
I turn over to look at her.
“Butter—”
My head shoots off the bed.
Where’s Ever? She’s not beside me. She’s not anywhere in this room.
Did she need to pee?
Pushing myself up, one of my palms lands in a bunch of brown crumbs on my sheet.
I groan.
She’s never had a pet, I repeat to myself as I stumble down the hall, passing by the bathroom that’s empty judging by the open door.
Mm. Don’t love that. Where’d she go?
No sign of Ever in the kitchen either, I complete an entire circle in my spot. That’s pretty much the whole house so…where is she?
“What are you looking for?” my dad asks from the table.
“My girlfriend. Have you seen her?”
“She wasn’t in your room?”
“Nope.”
“Did you check the bathroom?”
I give him a flat look. These are not helpful suggestions.
After an apologetic shrug, he unfolds his newspaper, letting the bottom half fall open. When he opens it, something inside makes his eyes bulge.
“I think I might know where she is.”
“Where?” I ask, getting closer. Without waiting for an answer, I take the paper right out of his hands.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, son…”
Staring up at me is a large black-and-white picture of Mallory Larson and tucked against his side is Ever.
“I recognize this picture,” I say. “This was at a gala last month.”
“Did you read the headline at the top of the page?”
My eyes find it, but my brain refuses to believe it.
“They’re not… That’s… She…”
“It says the wedding is today.”
“No.” I shake my head. Fuck no. She’s not getting… Married? Today? To fucking Mallory?
“Ever?” I bellow and drop the paper. She’s here. With me. She has to be.
“She didn’t tell you she was engaged?”
“Dad!” I warn as I tear through the house, checking every nook and cranny, even behind the couch because if her mom made her play hours of hide-and-seek, she must be pretty good at it. That’s all this is. She’s just…hiding. Once I find her, I’m keeping her. She’s mine.
She’s…
Not here.
“Fuck!”
“What’s going on?” my mom asks, rushing out of her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her head and wearing a robe.
My dad tilts the paper in her direction and I watch her eyes do the same thing his did.
“Mom, did you see Ever this morning?”
“No, but…honey…”
I put a hand up to silence her. No. No. It can’t be real. This is an elaborate prank. Ever loves to get one over on me. She’s just a funny girl, pulling a funny—
“She looks like she really loves him if that’s any consolation,” my mom says.
“What? She doesn’t love him . She’s not marrying him .”
I stomp over and rip the paper out of my dad’s hand a second time. I should’ve never given it back to him. I should’ve burned it. Thrown it in the fucking trash where trash belongs.
I can’t help but examine the picture again, trying to see what my mom sees. I remember when this was being taken. Ever wasn’t looking at Mallory at all. She was looking at me. She loves me . She’s gonna marry me . I told her that.
“It’d be really smart if she did.”
“Why’s that?” I ask my dad, still staring at Ever’s beautiful face, wishing I was looking at it in real life, not on a newspaper.
“The Larsons own Infinite Energy. If Munreaux Motorcycles plans to deliver on that promise they made back in November to roll out a line of electric motorcycles soon, it’d be extremely beneficial for them to partner with a hydrogen company.”
“Partnering is one thing. This is…”
“Better.”
I finally tear my eyes off Ever and pin them on my dad.
“The marriage would guarantee exclusivity,” he explains. “Infinite Energy won’t be able to supply hydrogen to any other motorcycle companies, making Munreaux Motorcycles miles ahead of the competition. No pun intended.”
I didn’t even think of that. Why didn’t I think of that?
I can see Arthur doing that. But Ever? She wouldn’t agree to that. Ever hates her father. She wouldn’t agree to marry someone, sign her fucking life away, just to help Munreaux Motorcycles.
This doesn’t make any sense.
Her bracelet. If she’s still wearing it, I can track her. I send one last glance around the house before returning to my room to get my phone. On the screen is a notification of a large deposit into my bank account. Assuming it’s just the one from Friday about my paycheck, I flick it away with my thumb. My hand’s shaking so bad though, I accidentally press it too long and it opens to that instead of my home screen.
“Shit.” I don’t care about that. I care about—
Wait. What the fuck? How are there so many zeroes? That’s…
I count.
Then recount.
A million dollars?
I scroll through the history. A deposit of one million dollars was deposited into my account at 3:14 this morning.
How? It’s the fucking weekend. Nothing in banking happens on the weekend.
Unlike the other payments that came via Munreaux Motorcycles, this one’s from Arthur Munreaux himself.
Did he suddenly grow a heart and feel bad about stiffing me that million dollars I thought I was getting?
If I thought I wasn’t exerting every muscle in my body to hold myself together right now, I’d laugh. I’d fucking howl with laughter.
That didn’t happen. No way that fucking happened.
So then, what is it?
I don’t care. That’s not important. Finding Ever is.
I get the GPS app open and wait for it to update.
She’s on Nantucket. Where the wedding is. Fuck!
I scour my room. I ransack the fucking thing, searching for any clue to explain what’s going on, why Ever left to marry…Mallory, a guy who tried to rape her.
She’s not marrying him.
The only thing out of place is Crue 2.0. He’s missing.
That bear.
I check the newspaper again, scanning the article for the ceremony details. Today. Nantucket. Church.
Time.
Time.
Time.
Got it. Eleven a.m., with reception to follow.
It’s eight thirty now. It’ll take me at least two and a half hours to drive to the port, another hour on the ferry out to the island. I won’t make it in time.
I won’t fucking make it!
I crumple the newspaper up and throw it at the wall. It lands without a sound on the floor, so I kick it.
She was here. She was mine. Then, she disappeared right out of my fucking hands. Gone. Taken. Again. Just like in the corn maze.
How was she taken? Arthur’s a fucking liar and has a helicopter somewhere. If that’s how he picked Ever up at Hide and Keep, I’m willing to bet he used it this time, too.
If he can fly to Nantucket, so can I. I have over a million fucking dollars at my disposal.
I’m gonna make it.
Keeping my head low, I part from the helicopter I chartered to fly me here. I’ve never been on Nantucket, so I don’t have the first clue where the fuck I’m going but I got an address and enough cash to get me there fast.
Right outside the tiny airport is a lane just for taxis. But it’s empty. Every person getting picked up curbside is with family it looks like. No impersonal hired drivers awkwardly taking their luggage from them to throw it in the trunk.
Goddamn it.
I see a sign for car rentals and sprint over to the customer service counter, which only has three people waiting. With one representative though, it might take forever to get through the line.
“Excuse me, this is an emergency!” I announce. “Would anyone mind letting me cut in front of them?”
The last person in line shrugs, and says, “Sure. You can go ahead of me.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, stepping in front of them.
Two people. Two fucking people I still have to wait on.
It takes way longer than it should for me to get to the counter for my turn, and by the time I do, I’m sweating profusely, and not because of the temperature.
“I need a car. Any car. Right now.”
“Okay, do you have a preference on—”
“Zero preferences. I will literally take any car you have available right this second. It’s an emergency.”
“Oh, gosh. I hope everything’s okay,” the attendant says while typing at a snail’s pace.
“It’s not,” I tell her, hoping that speeds things up.
Apparently, she’s a liar, too, and does not hope everything’s okay because if she did, she wouldn’t continue with the same exact lack of urgency as she did with the previous two customers.
Seventeen excruciating minutes later, I’m out the door, running to a blue Mini Cooper. Who the fuck’s renting Mini Coopers?
Using my phone’s GPS, I speed off toward the church Ever’s wedding is taking place in…
I glance at the time on the dashboard.
Shit!
Now. She’s getting married right fucking now.
My foot almost breaks through the floorboard as I lay on the gas, swerving around cars and fountains and people as fast as I can, but Jesus Christ, this place is small. And old. The roads are brick. Uneven brick that makes the Mini Cooper feel like a damn lawnmower with all the vibration.
I don’t give a fuck. I have a wedding to crash.
Passing the church and the twenty cars packed in front of it like sardines, I’m forced to park four blocks down.
I’m bursting through the double doors less than a minute later, booming, “I object!”
“Sir, the time for objections has passed,” the priest tries to inform me, but I ignore him because Ever, my woman, comes into view. In a white, lacy gown, a veil over her face, and a long train spread out behind her, she’s the epitome of the perfect bride. Even spotting a frown under that veil, she manages to do that thing again—steal my breath right out of my lungs.
I point at her and say, “You promised.” She said she’d never leave me to run into another man’s arms. That motherfucker Mallory has both of his around her right now, cradling her like she’s some precious ornament. And to him, she probably would be. An ornament. Not precious. If she was, he wouldn’t have tried to stick his dick in her without her permission.
Fuck, I hate him.
Arthur stands to round on me coming up the aisle. “Mr. Brantley, you are—”
I don’t skip a fucking beat to give him a right hook. I hate him, too.
“That’s for slapping your daughter.”
That very daughter demands, “What are you doing here?”
I spin and tell her point-blank, “Taking you home.”
“You can’t just steal my bride,” Mallory says with a snooty scoff because he’s a snooty piece of shit.
“I’m not stealing anything. I’m just taking back what’s mine.”
Turning to face me fully, Ever says, “Crue.”
One of Mallory’s hands drops, but he keeps the other on her. At her hip, to be exact.
Ever hisses and bends away from him.
Motherfucker’s pinching her in the same spot Arthur does and he’s doing it right in front of me, right in front of everybody.
Oh. He’s fucking dead.
Climbing the steps to the altar two at a time, I wrap my arms around him from the side, then throw him over my back in a suplex. Suplexes are risky as shit because they can paralyze—or worse, kill—the person getting thrown to the ground on their head or neck. I’m hoping for worst-case scenario when I bring Mallory down as hard as I can. Die, fucker.
I pop back up on my feet without waiting to see if he did, and grab Ever’s hand. Immediately, she tries to pull it out of mine. There’s that funny girl of mine.
Ha-fucking-ha.
I snatch her hand again.
“Ever. Come on. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying this fucking loser.”
“Excuse me! I’ll have you know—”
I swing a glare around on Mallory’s dad, whatever the fuck his name is again. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll body-slam you, too, old man. You arranged a marriage for your rapist son with a woman that was already promised to someone else.”
A collective gasp echoes through the crowd of wedding guests, but I’m not sure for which juicy tidbit. The abusive father? The arranged marriage? Or the rapist son? All three are pretty fucking disturbing in my opinion.
“Who?” Larson, Sr. and Arthur demand at the same time.
“Me.”
Arthur points at Ever. “You better fix this.”
“Crue.” Ever tugs on me until I turn to her.
Her face is covered and I…hate it. Is that why she was always taking my hat off?
I remove the veil from her hair and throw it out to the side.
There’s my beautiful bride. Mine. Not Mallory’s.
Instead of vows, my bride whispers, “Just take the money.”
“What money?”
She widens her eyes at me.
The million dollars.
“That was you?”
“You can get away. Move anywhere you want. Live out your dream.”
“Are you fucking shitting me?” I use her own saying against her. “I would never choose travel or money or anything over you. You’re my dream. You.”
Instead of being happy at that, she only looks more miserable.
“I’ll be your end, too.”
“Then finish me.” That’s what she said last night, right? I didn’t fully understand what she meant until now. She chose me to be her end. I’m choosing her to be mine. I drop to my knees at her feet and with my hands together in prayer, I beg, “Fucking finish me, Ever, because I’m yours no matter what, no matter where. Go to outer space and I’ll still come find you.”
She shakes her head, the pain inside her causing fissures in her makeup as it claws its way out and onto her features.
“Ever.”
Tears run down her quivering cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re—”
Mallory’s moan beside us cuts me off. He starts thrashing around, making me instantly pissed he’s still alive. And obviously not paralyzed.
Pressing the bottom of my shoe against his back, I kick him away from us.
“You’re not marrying him. Not today. Not ever. You’re going to be my wife and you’re going to bear my children.” I think. I don’t know. We never talked about having kids before. “We’re going to travel the world together , every single step of the way.” I don’t care how many jobs I have to suffer through to make that happen, or how many years it’ll take to earn enough savings, but I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to keep Ever.
And I’ll do it all without a fucking hat on. Anything to make her happy.
“It’s my choice,” she cries. “I’m choosing your life over mine.”
“I have no life without you, Ever.” Doesn’t she fucking see that? She is my life now.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. But I’m—”
Suddenly, she drops to her knees, too, and with my head blocking her from everyone’s view, she whispers in a completely different tone, “There’s a door out back.”
“Can you run in that dress?”
“Faster than you.”
“You’re on, little bat.”
“Try to keep—”
We both move at the same time, scrambling off the floor to run toward the back.
The back? That’s so vague.
I’m forced to give Ever the lead just so I can follow her. That’s okay though. I’ll follow her anywhere.
Shouts go off behind us, one after the other, like explosions in a minefield, but we don’t stop. We don’t look back. With Ever with me, I don’t have any reason to anyway.