Chapter 26
LINCOLN
Adocumentary plays on the TV. Something about primeval fruit jams or whatever. I stretch out on the couch, doom-scrolling YouTube Shorts and pretending to not be in the middle of an existential crisis.
Dammit. What’s the statistical likelihood of an asteroid hitting this couch and putting me out of my misery today?
“So…this is it? This is the bachelor party?”
At the sound of Oliver’s skeptical voice, I jolt, looking up to find his unimpressed eyes bouncing from me to the television screen and back again.
“Sure…” I grumble with a shrug, letting my attention drop to my phone again.
He leans back in the armchair and tiredly shakes his head. He scrubs a palm down his face. “Can’t believe I drove eight hours for this.”
I shove the pretzels across the coffee table at him. “Shut up. Eat.”—I mutter under my breath—“So I can go back to my panic attack in peace.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful that my youngest brother made the trip out here for my wedding. If nothing else, it’s nice to have a bit of company sitting here now as my guilt eats me up from the inside out.
Oliver and I are in Easton’s living room, drinking lukewarm beer and eating stale pretzels we found at the back of the pantry.
Easton and Rocco went into town to find real food.
In the meantime, my thumb swipes aimlessly at my screen and I try not to hyperventilate at the fact that I’m getting married tomorrow.
Me. Married. Tomorrow. To a woman who openly hates me. And she has good reasons, too.
Man—I was a jackass to her last night. In too many ways to count.
Telling Jules I care about her was my first mistake. Duh. I was supposed to keep that shit to myself.
Then I kissed her.
Then I fucked her.
Couple all that with the fact that I immediately shut down after we had sex? I made her feel like a mistake. She probably thinks I just used her to get off.
See? Jackass.
But she’s all wrong about my intentions. True, I pulled away from her the minute the sex was over. But it killed me. Because I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her over and over again, all night.
My behavior was a knee-jerk reaction.
When I originally came up with this scheme to marry Jules, it was solely a business deal. I bought the ring. I drafted up the contract. I convinced Jules to go along with this crazy plot. It was supposed to be a means to an end for us both.
But here’s the thing. Some strange feelings are starting to take root here, and they’re scaring the shit out of me.
It feels like everything is changing. Now, my attraction to Jules is becoming overwhelming. I can’t control how much I want her. Every minute of every day.
But this is something more than just a physical attraction. I can’t quite describe it. It’s a feeling I can’t quite put my finger on.
It’s the way I always need to know that she’s all right. The urge I feel to comfort her when she’s not. The need to fix whatever’s wrong in her world just so I get to see her wicked little grin.
Last night, I didn’t make her smile, though. I did the opposite. And I feel like shit about that.
Why am I such a fool? All I had to do was follow the rules. The rules I typed up myself in black and white, right there in clause four of our marriage contract.
…the parties shall refrain from engaging in any form of physical intimacy behind closed doors.
Yet, there I was, kissing her and touching her, sinking deep inside her tight, wet, hot—
The front door swings open, smacking into the wall and making me jump. Rocco stampedes inside. “Come on, boys. We’re going to the Fairy Bush Wing Feast!” He waves a bunch of colorful flyers in the air.
“The what…?” I grumble, glaring in his direction.
Easton stumbles into the house with a chicken wing in each hand and sauce all over his mouth. “There’s this festival happening downtown right now. So much food,” he groans, tearing into the meat. “So…much…food…”
I’m already shaking my head. “I’m not in the mood for big crowds right now.” Big crowds and silent pre-wedding mental breakdowns don’t mix.
Rocco grunts, slapping my shoulder. “Come on, man. It’s the day before your wedding.
Cameron and Jagger are hanging out with Mom.
Your future wife is running around town with her bridesmaids having a blast. This is your last chance to let loose before you’re a married man again. Make the most of today.”
Oliver snatches a flyer out of Rocco’s hand and his eyes scan the information. “Local vendors participating?” he murmurs as he reads.
Easton snorts, licking sauce off his fingers. “Yup. Chloe’s there,” he confirms.
That’s all it takes.
Oliver’s already slithering out of his seat. “Chloe? Who said anything about Chloe? I never said anything about Chloe.” Now, he’s heading for the door, checking his pockets for his keys. “Whose car are we taking? Are we taking my car? We're taking my car. Hurry up. Let’s go.”
I want to protest. I really do. The last thing I need is to be surrounded by rowdy strangers all night. But I don’t have the energy to argue back and forth with my brothers. So I might as well just go along with this change of plans.
We all hop into Oliver’s rented SUV and the minute I buckle my seatbelt, Jules struts back into my mind. I close my eyes and she promptly starts taking off her clothes.
Dammit. I am so screwed.
I fucked her and now, all I can think about is doing it again. Being with her in that way was incredible. Nothing has ever felt as good as Jules’s pussy squeezing on my dick, her hands roaming over my skin, her breath dusting the shell of my ear as she struggled to breathe.
I screw my eyes tighter, trying to block the vision out. But I can’t.
Why am I so obsessed with this stubborn, chaotic woman?
All I know is, she was so soft when I was inside her. Vulnerable. Beautiful. God, she was so beautiful. As she came apart on my cock, she was a work of art.
But unfortunately for me, every time I make her come, I seem to find a way to make her hate me a little bit more.
We pull into the heart of town before I can spiral too deep into my thoughts. The local park serves as the festival grounds today.
Dozens of locals mill about, eating, drinking and socializing.
Music plays loudly, way too loudly for the dull headache throbbing at the back of my skull.
There are tents set up everywhere with vendors selling food that would normally make my mouth water.
But today, the smells just make me feel sick to my stomach.
Oliver heads straight for the Whiskey Barrel’s tent under a canopy of string lights where Chloe is serving drinks while her co-workers handle the food. Easton and Rocco follow after him. Meanwhile, I find a picnic table and sit my ass down.
Not really wanting to make eye contact and get dragged into a conversation with anyone, I pull out my phone and try to look busy while I wait. But then, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I feel the weight of someone’s stare on me.
My gaze shifts and my insides jolt when my eyes collide with cognac-colored irises across the crowd.
Jules…
My bride-to-be is across the way with her group of friends. I knew the girls would be gallivanting around town today for their so-called bachelorette party. I just didn’t know I’d run into them here.
As usual, my future wife looks annoyingly beautiful in tight, ripped jeans, and one of those T-shirts she designed that shows off her bejeweled belly button. I’m the bride…or whatever, it says across the front, making me smile.
She adjusts the plastic crown sitting atop her short, silky bangs, her eyes narrowing venomously on me. She doesn’t smile back.
I lift my hand and wave at her, but she just rolls her eyes, turning her back on me.
The day before our wedding.
Romantic.
But I can’t play dumb and act like I don’t know why she’s pissed at me. That part is all my fault.
There’s a clatter at the table and my eyes spring in that direction to find Rocco dropping a platter of gooey, sauce-slathered wings in front of me. Easton and Oliver show up at his side with napkins and drinks in hand.
Rocco rubs his palms together, ready to dig in. “Feast away, your highness.”
We dig into the food. My brothers are practically inhaling these chicken wings like it’s oxygen. The spicy honey soy sauce tastes all right, but I just don’t have my regular appetite.
Rocco wipes his fingers in a wad of napkins and his face goes serious. “So, uh, I have a few interviews out here next week,” he announces.
Easton looks up, blinking. “Interviews? What kind of interviews?”
“For jobs.” Rocco clears his throat. “I’ve been putting my feelers out, trying to gauge what kind of opportunities are available here in Fairy Bush.”
“For personal trainers?” Oliver’s eyebrows scrunch up as he gnaws on a jumbo turkey wing that’s dripping with sauce. “I can’t imagine that there’d be a huge market out here for personal trainers. Especially for guys like you who’ve made a career working with pro-level hockey players.”
Rocco just shakes his head. “I don’t have to limit myself to working with pro hockey players,” he says in that stubborn way of his. “I could work anywhere, with anyone.”
“Well, you’ll probably be taking a big salary cut.” Easton gulps from his jumbo plastic cup.
“It’s not all about money,” Rocco argues. “Sometimes you just need a change.”
“And you still won’t tell us why you suddenly need this change?” Oliver shakes his head. “Why you’re willing to give up your spot with one of the best hockey teams in the league? Just throwing it all away?”
Rocco growls with frustration. “Look—all I know is that I need something new. Something different. Because the way I’ve been doing things, it’s not working for me anymore.
Sometimes, a man just needs to be honest with himself and admit that the old way just isn’t a fit for who he’s becoming.
And it’s time to grow the hell up and do the hard thing. ”
My mind swirls. What the hell is he running from…?