Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TRIGGER
"So, a ring tat?" London says, eyeing my left hand. "For the girl who threw a milkshake on you your first day of freshman year." He takes a long drink, eyes fixed on my hand.
Hollis nearly spits his beer back into the bottle. "Strawberry, right?" He's leaning over the table now, shoulders shaking with laughter. "All down the front of his shirt in front of the team?"
Someone cheers at the game playing on the screen behind us, but my brothers don't even glance over.
"She hated you," Hollis tacks on, shaking his head, still smiling at the memory.
"Nothing says 'soulmate' like someone who knows exactly how to ruin your day." London's voice drips with mock sincerity.
I rest my tattooed hand flat on the table between us. "All that energy was just foreplay." I flash them my cockiest grin. "I like to take my time."
"Dude, she's my cousin." Hollis straightens, his face sobering.
“In all seriousness, married life looks good on you." London's glass clinks against mine, the sound bright and celebratory despite the tension coiling in my shoulders.
We've been so busy since we got home from Spain that Asha and I have been working nonstop, between finding a place to stay and preparing for our first bull delivery. Luckily, London has stepped in—in a big way—with the horses. Right now, breeding Thoroughbreds is still paying the bills.
"I think he looks constipated," Hollis chimes in, though he's not looking at me; he's looking at Sydney.
I pulled him from the girls' table ten minutes ago, and he’s obviously butthurt about it.
Asha needed time with her friends. The three of them haven't got together since we got back, and I know exactly what kind of interrogation is happening right now.
They want every detail: when, how, and why the hell weren't they looped in before our surprise nuptials.
I'm ninety-nine percent certain I even caught Sydney asking about my performance in bed.
I've already made a mental note to ask Asha later what she whispered, because Sydney squealed, and Laney gasped.
"He's not constipated." London swirls his drink. "He's waiting to see what hand his new father-in-law is going to play tonight."
Sydney's voice cuts through our speculation as the girls drift over from their cocktail table, with three empty glasses. "What makes you think he's playing games?"
"How is he not? He won't let Asha on the property unless she is there to speak to him. He blocked off our access to the road, forcing us to excavate a new one, and then demanded Asha attend tonight to keep up appearances."
"You forgot the part about how he shut off the electricity to the back sixty," Asha offers up bitterly. "I'm not asking for a handout. He's just making everything difficult. I'm his only daughter. It could have been a conversation."
"But you refuse to see him, so how could it be?" Sydney's tone is careful, but the implication still slaps.
"Whose side are you on, Sydney?" Asha scowls. "My father may have extended an invite, but it hasn't included Trigger. He still thinks this is a game. If he really wanted to talk, he would include my husband."
Sydney's shoulders drop. "I'm not trying to upset you." She straightens. "I'm going to get another drink."
"I'll go with you." Hollis is already moving, following her toward the bar.
Laney seizes the moment, shaking her empty glass at London with a sweetness that doesn't quite hide her exhaustion. "London, I want another Ranch Water, but my feet are killing me. I'm going to call and check in on Grace."
He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. "One Ranch Water coming up."
I step behind Asha, wrapping my arms around her waist, and she melts back against me. I can feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat through the thin fabric of her dress, and it instantly soothes me. "You good, sweetheart?"
She exhales slowly. "I don't know. I’m just flustered. I feel like we shouldn't have come here tonight."
"Are you saying you're not going to try to sneak into the house tonight?"
One of the reasons she accepted the invitation tonight was that she knew Warrick would be distracted, and she wanted to sneak into her room to grab a few things. The other reason was hoping that showing up would get him to back off and stop making things difficult for us.
"Sydney said she would go with me and create a distraction if my dad happened to come inside while I was there, but I can tell she had reservations about it, so I didn't bring it back up.
She's been acting strange for a few months now.
Ever since she went back to school to get a master's degree, she's been different.
At first, I thought it was just the stress of going back.
This time, she's up there alone since Laney and I are done with school, but now I don't know…
In some ways, it feels like we are drifting apart. "
My heart rate kicks up a notch as I try to swallow my own theories—ones that don't do anyone any good. Around us, the party continues, but it all feels distant, like we're caught in our own pocket of tension.
"We don't have to stay," I murmur against her hair. "I already told you I'm not worried about your father. We can leave right now."
"No." She shakes her head, determination settling into her voice even as her fingers tremble against my forearm.
"We're both here. What Sydney said pissed me off because some part of me knows she's right, even if it's only partially.
You can't fix your problems by avoiding them. I need to talk to my dad."
She turns in my arms, rising up on her toes. Her lips brush mine. "But another drink would do wonders for my nerves."
"Whatever you want," I promise, meaning it down to my bones. Then I catch her chin, tilting her face up to mine. "But it's going to cost you first."
I cover her mouth with mine, and everything else falls away. She kisses me back like she's drowning and I'm air. Like every word Sydney said, every game her father's playing, every doubt creeping into her mind…none of it matters as long as we have this. As long as we have each other.
When I finally pull back, we're both breathing hard. Her eyes are glassy, and there's a vulnerability in her expression that guts me. But there's something else too—a fierceness, a determination that wasn't there before.
"I love you," she whispers.
My thumb traces over her bottom lip. "I love you too." I nod toward the bar. "I'll be right back."
When I reach the bar, I step up next to London, who's still waiting for his drinks, one hand drumming against the bar top. I use this moment alone to ask the question that's been burning in my chest all night.
"Do you remember coming to this party last year?"
His eyes narrow, head tilting slightly before the corners of his mouth curl up. "How could I forget?"
I can't contain the grin that takes over my face at the memory. I know exactly what he's remembering.
"I'm not talking about you crawling under the table to win back Laney…" I pause, biting my lip as heat creeps up my neck. "Actually, I am."
His eyes narrow to slits.
"I know you were a little occupied," I continue, leaning one elbow on the bar, "but do you remember the conversation I was having with her while you were down there…" I draw off as another guest slides up on my left.
"You're going to need to be a little more specific." He shifts his weight, crossing his arms. "You were doing a bang-up job of sabotaging me that night."
Cheers erupt behind us as one of Fairfield's horses comes on the screen. I wait for them to drop before leaning in.
"The part about Sydney," I say, lowering my voice. "What I said about her disappearing act. How she and Warrick seem to vanish at the same time."
He visibly pulls in a deep breath, shoulders tensing.
The topic is clearly touchy for him too.
His wife has been friends with Sydney even longer than Asha.
When he exhales, it's slow and measured.
"I've noticed things, yes." He rubs the back of his neck.
"But I don't know if I notice them because they're actually there, or because you pointed it out and now I can't unsee it. "
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"It means I haven't witnessed anything firsthand.
" He spreads his hands. "I haven't seen anything with my own eyes, but I notice things.
Little things." He pauses, glancing toward the yard where laughter spills from the sitting area.
"After you and Asha eloped at my reception and then took off, there were two other guests who disappeared right after.
Initially, I thought maybe Syd went with you, but when Warrick didn't come back inside either… "
He lets the sentence hang in the humid night air, leaving me to fill in the blanks.
"Has Laney ever mentioned anything?"
"We talked about it last year after you inferred something was going on." He frustratedly shakes his head. "To my knowledge, Laney hasn't flat-out asked her, and I don't think she will."
The bartender returns and slides two glasses across the bar. London picks them up, condensation already dripping down the sides, and turns to face me fully.
"Look…" His tone is serious. "I've known Sydney my whole life. Her brother is my best friend. She's loyal as fuck, and the people she loves, she loves hard. Asha is one of those people." His eyes lock on mine, unflinching. "The last thing she would ever do is hurt her."
"That doesn't answer my question." My voice comes out firmer than I intended.
"Doesn't it?" His gaze holds mine, intense, almost challenging me to read between the lines.
The string lights flicker above us, casting shadows across his face.
"Being with Warrick would hurt Asha," he finally says.
Then he nods toward the table, where I can see Laney's silhouette against the patio lights. "Laney's waiting for her drink."
As I watch him walk away, I hear the words he didn't say loud and clear: What Asha doesn't know can't hurt her.
London doesn't have the answers any more than I do. But he never flat-out denied it's a possibility, and that silence speaks volumes. I've left it alone and kept my now-wife in the dark about my suspicions for over a year, but keeping it to myself even if I don’t have proof feels like a betrayal.
Silence isn't love. Secrets are just the truth waiting for their moment to surface.
Maybe Warrick's secrets aren't as dark as Asha believes.
Perhaps this war has nothing to do with control or manipulation at all.
People do fucked-up things in the name of love, things that look like deception from the outside but feel like survival from within.
If I'm right, it's possible Warrick has kept Asha busy, deflected her questions, danced around the truth, not because he wanted to deceive her, but because he didn't want to lie.
Because once you say it out loud, there's no taking it back.
How the hell is he supposed to tell his daughter he's sleeping with her best friend?
"What can I get you?" The bartender sets a napkin in front of me, professional smile in place.
"Whiskey neat and an Aperol Spritz."
He nods, already reaching for the bottles.
"There you are."
The voice comes from directly beside me, too close, too familiar, and my entire body goes rigid. I turn, and she's right there, invading my space like she has every right to it. Blonde hair and big blue eyes are locked on mine with an intensity that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Cassidy Miller. She's a local. Her father owns a tack shop in town, so our paths have crossed many times, and she's never been shy about her interest in being more than just acquaintances.
"I've been looking everywhere for you, Trigger Hale." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "We need to talk."
"What about exactly?" I ask, unsure where all this is going.
"Bourbon Trail, five months ago…you ran into me in the parking lot…" My brow furrows as I try to recall spending any amount of time with her outside of the occasional run-in at the tack shop. That's when my eyes drop involuntarily, and slight panic starts to set in.
She's pregnant. Visibly, unmistakably pregnant, maybe five-six months along, and the fitted dress she's wearing does nothing to hide the swell of her belly. My brain scrambles to make sense of what I'm seeing, timelines, and her words. What the hell is happening?
"Are you trying to tell me…" The words die on my tongue. I can't even get them out. How is this even possible? My hand covers my mouth. If I don't say the words, they can't be true.
"Yeah." She rubs her belly. "I know it seems far along, like I should have told you sooner, but honestly, I wasn't sure how you'd react, and I knew I was keeping my baby no matter what."
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need..."
My feet carry me of their own accord. I wind through tables, past clusters of people whose conversations blur into white noise. I don't stop until I reach the fence line at the edge of the property, where the manicured lawn gives way to pasture. My hands grip the top rail, knuckles going white.
I can't breathe. My chest is tight, constricted like someone's tied a rope around my ribs. The horizon tilts, and I feel like I might actually pass out.
Five months ago. The Bourbon Trail. I was there.
We were all there. I got shit-faced because Asha was thoroughly icing me out, and then I proceeded to flirt with the bartender.
I don't remember seeing Cassidy; my focus was on Asha all night until I couldn't take it anymore and left the bar.
The problem is, while I don't remember leaving with Cassidy, I have a fuzzy image of a blonde with a familiar voice in my truck. Fuck.