Chapter 3 #2
Carlos kissed her. Six years ago, the night before she left. He's never told us exactly what happened, but I saw his face the morning after, when we woke up and she was gone. I saw the guilt. The grief. The way he's never quite forgiven himself for whatever role he played in making her run.
"Has anyone talked to Callum?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Silence.
"Someone should probably call him," Pedro says, but he doesn't move toward his phone.
Neither does anyone else.
"He's supposed to be our best friend," I say, and the words hurt coming out. "His fiancée just ran out on their wedding. He's probably losing his mind right now. He probably needs us."
"Probably." Nacho's voice is flat. "But I'm not calling him."
"Why not?" I ask, even though part of me doesn't want to know.
"Because if I talk to him right now, I'm going to ask questions I don't want answers to." He meets my eyes, and there's something dark in his gaze. "She ran, Sergio. Women don't run from weddings for no reason. Something happened."
"You don't know that," I say, but it sounds weak even to my own ears.
"I know what I saw." He leans forward in the chair. "I've been sheriff for five years. I've seen a lot of women who were scared of the men they were with. And Jessica ran, because she’s scared.”
The room goes quiet.
I don't want to think about what he's implying. Golden boy Callum, my best friend since we were kids, charming everyone with his smile and his money and his casual confidence, as someone who would hurt her.
But I also remember things. Small things. Things I tried to ignore because acknowledging them would mean I was a terrible friend.
The way Jessica got quieter over the years. The way she stopped laughing as much. The way she always seemed to check Callum's expression before she said anything, like she was asking permission.
I told myself I was imagining it. Projecting. Seeing what I wanted to see because it would make my feelings for her less of a betrayal.
Now I'm not so sure.
"It doesn't matter," I say, and my voice cracks. "Whatever happened between them, it's not our business. She's Callum's fiancée. We can't just—"
"Ex-fiancée," Carlos interrupts. "Pretty sure running from the altar cancels the engagement."
"Fine. His ex. But still his." I run my hands through my hair, frustrated with myself, with this whole situation.
"They were together for years, then they broke up and he went back to her on bended knees and she took him back without hesitation.
They have history. If anyone's going to help her through this, it should be him. Right?"
I'm asking them. Begging them to tell me I'm doing the right thing. Because I don't know anymore.
“But he must be the reason she ran!” Carlos says.
I don't have a response to that.
Carlos stops pacing and turns to face me. His eyes are bright. Intense. The same look he gets when he's about to do something stupid and knows it.
"I want to see her," he says.
My heart clenches. "Carlos..."
"I need to see her, Sergio. I need to know she's okay."
"I know. God, I know." I press my palms against my eyes. "You think I don't want the same thing? You think I'm not dying to get in my truck and drive over there? But we can't. She just left Callum. Our best friend. If we show up now, it looks like we're swooping in. Like we're vultures."
"Maybe we have been," Carlos says quietly.
"Don't." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "Don't say that. Callum is our friend. He's been our friend for years. We don't betray him like that."
"Even if he's been hurting her?"
"We don't know that!"
"Don't we?" Carlos takes a step toward me. "Sergio, we've all seen it. She changed after she got with him. She got smaller. Quieter. And we all just... let it happen. Because he's our friend and she's just... what? A girl?"
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" He looks around the room. At Pedro, stone-faced by the window. At Nacho, watching everything with those sharp eyes. At me, trying to hold this pack together when I'm barely holding myself together.
"We all felt it," Carlos continues, and his voice breaks. "Don't pretend we didn’t, but then again they’re both betas, so this made letting go of her easier. Accepting that they matched.”
Carlos's eyes are wet now. "He asked her out first. We just... accepted it. Because he's our friend."
"Because that's what friends do," I say, but my voice is shaking.
“Betas don't control their girlfriends. They don't..." He stops. Swallows hard. "I've heard things, Sergio. Rumors. About how he treats her. About how she's changed since she moved away with him."
"Rumors aren't facts," I say weakly.
"No. But she's sitting on a porch in a ruined wedding dress, and that's a fact." He holds my gaze, and I see tears on his cheeks now. "Something broke her. And I don't think it was cold feet."
The room is silent except for the tick of the clock on the mantel. The same clock that marked time while we grew up, while we became a pack, while we built lives that were supposed to be complete.
They never felt complete.
Not to me.
Pedro finally speaks. His voice is quiet. Controlled. But I can hear the emotion underneath.
"Carlos's right. About all of it."
I turn to look at him, surprised. Pedro doesn't usually get involved in emotional discussions.
"She never belonged with Callum," he continues.
"We didn't want to rock the boat." He uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"I'm a doctor. I'm trained to see things other people miss.
And I saw the way she looked at him sometimes.
Not like a woman in love. Like a woman waiting for the other shoe to drop. "
"So what do you want me to do?" I ask, and I hate how helpless I sound. "March over there and tell her we've been in love with her for years? Destroy our friendship with Callum? Start a war? I'm trying to do the right thing here. Help me out, because I don't know what the right thing is anymore."
"No." Nacho stands up from the chair. Moves to stand beside me. "We stay away. For now. We give her space to figure out what she needs. And we give Callum a chance to explain himself."
"And if his explanation isn't good enough?" Carlos asks.
Nacho's jaw tightens. "Then we'll deal with that when it happens."
It's the right answer. But it feels like giving up. I look around the room at my brothers.
"Okay," I say softly. "We stay away. We don't contact her. We don't go to her mom’s house. We give her space." I swallow hard. "But if she needs help. If she reaches out. If something happens and she's in danger... all bets are off. Okay? I can't just abandon her. I can't."
Carlos nods, relief crossing his face.
Pedro nods too, stiff but understanding.
Nacho watches me with that knowing look of his. The one that says he can see right through everything to the mess underneath.
"Meeting adjourned," I say quietly. "I need a minute."
I head for the stairs, and this time my legs are shaking. Every step takes me further from the conversation but not from the thoughts circling in my head.
Jessica's back.
She ran from her wedding.
She's in Largo Waters, probably crying, probably scared, probably wondering what the hell she's going to do next.
And I'm supposed to stay away.
I make it to my room and close the door. Lean against it. Let out the breath I've been holding.
My phone buzzes. Another text.
From my mama: Sergio, I know you boys were close with Jessica before she left. That poor girl looked absolutely devastated. Someone should check on her.
I stare at the message for a long time, and I feel tears burning in my eyes.
Then I turn off my phone and head for the shower.
The water is scalding. Hot enough to burn. I stand under it and let myself fall apart where no one can see.
I remember the Fourth of July barbecue the summer before she left.
She'd been wearing cutoff denim shorts that hugged her hips and a tank top that showed off her curves.
All soft stomach and thick thighs and full breasts that I tried so hard not to stare at.
She'd challenged me to a hockey bet and won, laughing that bright, genuine laugh that made my alpha sit up and take notice.
Made me want to pick her up and spin her around. Made me want to kiss her.
I remember watching her play with the kids at the town fair, patient and kind, her curvy body moving with an easy grace as she lifted them onto the carousel horses.
The way Callum had made some comment about her "letting herself go" and I'd had to walk away before I said something I'd regret.
She wasn't letting herself go. She was perfect.
Full and lush and soft in all the right places. Beautiful.
She stared at Carlos when he talked about his carpentry projects, her hazel eyes bright with interest. The way she'd fall asleep during movie nights, her head on Nacho's shoulder, her legs tucked under her, completely at ease.
The way she'd ask Pedro about his cases at the clinic, genuinely caring about the answers.
The way she fit with us.
And I did nothing. I stayed loyal. I was a good friend.
And now she's two miles away. In a ruined wedding dress. Crying. Alone.
Pack code. Loyalty. Friendship.
The words feel hollow. Empty. Like rules from a game I'm not sure I want to play anymore.
But I'll play it. Because that's what I do. That's who I am. The good guy. The one who tries to do the right thing.
Even if it costs me her.
I turn off the water and reach for a towel. My reflection stares back at me from the foggy mirror. Red-rimmed brown eyes. Tight jaw. The face of a man who's been lying to himself for too long.
We agreed to stay away.
But we won’t. No matter how hard we try.