2. Pen
2
PEN
M y heart beats wildly in my chest as I walk down the aisle toward Carter. This should be the happiest day of my life, but the warning bells are blaring now as each step brings me closer to the man I’m supposed to love forever.
What am I doing?
I’ve never felt so alone, walking by myself with hardly anyone I recognize staring back at me, a fake smile firmly in place.
I can do this.
Carter’s expression is picture worthy but it does nothing to ease the way my stomach dips the closer I get to him. I want to look for my best friend but I don’t.
I can’t.
What if he’s not here?
The thought makes me want to puke because even though we’re still not okay, I want him here. I need him here.
I can do this.
My smile is wide and bright as Carter takes my hand, and I pass my flowers to his sister who was volunteered to be my maid of honor by their mother. She gives me an encouraging smile because she gets it, and I appreciate the hell out of her in this moment.
Blood pounds in my ears as the officiant starts to speak, Carter’s expression never changing as his gaze flicks to me and then her. I should probably be doing that, but all I can do is hope that it looks like I’m staring adoringly at the groom.
I’ll be on my honeymoon in no time.
This is fine.
“…one of trust and fidelity and lifting each other up…”
“…one of trust and fidelity and lifting each other up…”
“…one of trust and…”
It’s like someone threw a bucket of ice water on me, the freezing cold somehow managing to get through all the layers of the dress to soak my skin. Panic hovers on the edge of my psyche as the words get stuck on a loop in my mind.
I try to breathe as I turn my head toward the crowd, looking for the confirmation I need for what I’m about to do.
He came.
Lake.
He’s seated next to his brother, and I see Beau’s eyes widening as he looks at Lake.
He knows.
Lake knows.
And thank God for that because I’m about to make headlines like Wintervale’s never seen before.
Hours pass in the span of a few seconds as I turn back to Carter. I want to tell him I’m sorry—that it never should have gotten this far—but I can’t.
Go.
I don’t know if the word is a whisper in my mind or if it’s Carter’s sister, but it doesn’t matter. Clutching my dress in my hands, I turn toward the aisle and run .
Noises sound all around me but no one tries to intervene.
Lake is only a few steps ahead of me, pushing doors open as we race toward the exit. Resort guests and workers gape at us as my heels echo on the tile floor, the weight of my dress doing nothing to slow me down.
I gasp when we finally reach the outside, the frigid air instantly chilling my heated skin.
“This way,” Lake calls, weaving his way through the rows of cars before unlocking a massive black pickup and throwing open the door.
There’s no way I can climb up there, but Lake doesn’t give me a second to worry as his hands snake around my waist, lifting me up into the seat and jamming all the fabric inside before slamming the door.
People are starting to pour out of the front of the resort as Lake jumps inside the cab and slams the truck into drive, the tires screeching on the pavement as he hits the gas.
“Where to?” he asks, his gaze bouncing between me and the road.
“Anywhere but here.”