Chapter 7
JUDE
" T his is it? This is Cusp Hollow?" Zennika stares out the window at the small town that appears before us. "It's practically straddling the state line."
"Hence the name," I point out, slowing the truck as we approach the town limits. "Cusp Hollow, Georgia. Though according to that sign, there's also a Cusp Hollow, Florida just across the line."
"It's actually kind of charming," Zennika admits as we drive past a row of brightly painted shops. "In a time-capsule sort of way."
I have to agree. There's something appealing about the town's old-fashioned appearance with it’s wrought iron benches beneath shade trees, vintage lampposts, locals greeting each other on the sidewalks.
It's a throwback to a simpler time, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else's business.
"Small town charm," I say. "Though it can get suffocating if you're not used to it."
"Voice of experience again?"
"Let's just say growing up in places like this, I learned to be careful what I did in public." I navigate past a town square with a gazebo at its center. "Word travels fast when there's not much else to talk about."
"I'll keep that in mind." She checks her phone, scrolling through messages. "Abby says the Inn is just past the town square, on the right. She and Brick booked the whole place for the wedding party and out-of-town guests."
I follow her directions, soon spotting a large Victorian house set back from the road, its wraparound porch festooned with white ribbons and flowers. A hand-painted sign identifies it as the "Night Night Bed and Breakfast."
"Night Night?" I read, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds like what you say to a toddler at bedtime."
"Better than 'Goodnight Inn,'" Zennika points out. "That would be just asking for horror movie comparisons."
We pull into the gravel parking area, and I cut the engine, suddenly reluctant to leave the bubble of the truck. Once we step out, our private journey ends. The real world, with all its complications and observers, takes over.
Zennika seems to sense my hesitation. She reaches across the console to squeeze my hand. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "One last moment of peace before the chaos."
"It won't be that bad," she assures me, though she doesn't sound entirely convinced. "Abby's great, and I'm sure her fiancé is too. The welcome dinner isn't until tonight, so we have a few hours to settle in."
"And figure out what we're telling people," I add. "About us."
Her expression turns thoughtful. "What do you want to tell them?"
"The truth," I say without hesitation. "That we're exploring whatever this is between us. No labels, no pressure, but not hiding it either."
Relief softens her features. "I'd like that. Though maybe we ease Abby into it? I'm not sure how she'll react to me dating her ex."
"Fair enough. I’ll follow your lead on timing."
She smiles, leaning across to kiss me quickly. "Thank you for being so understanding."
"I aim to please." I kiss her again, lingering this time, savoring what might be our last truly private moment for a while.
We're still smiling at each other when a scream pierces the air, making us both jump. The truck door is yanked open, and a blonde tornado launches itself at Zennika.
"You're here! Finally!" Abby, looking exactly as I remember but with shorter hair, pulls Zennika into a fierce hug that practically drags her from the vehicle. "I've been watching for you guys all morning!"
Zennika laughs, returning the embrace with equal enthusiasm. "We made it! On time and everything."
"Barely! The rehearsal dinner is tonight!" Abby releases her, holding her at arm's length for inspection. "You look amazing. Road trips agree with you."
I catch the blush that rises on Zennika's cheeks, knowing exactly why she's glowing, and hide my smile as I exit the truck, coming around to greet Abby.
"Hi, Abby," I say, suddenly awkward. It's been a couple years since I've seen her, and never in a context where I'm arriving with her best friend after a very intimate road trip.
"Jude!" She releases Zennika to give me a quick hug. "My hero! Thank you for rescuing my maid of honor."
"Happy to help," I reply, returning the hug briefly. "Congratulations on the wedding."
"Thank you!" She beams, practically vibrating with excitement. "I can't believe it's finally happening. After all the planning and stressing and—oh! You have to meet Brick!"
"You must be the road trip warriors," a deep voice calls out as a man approaches from the inn.
My first impression is one of sheer physical presence.
Brick stands well over six feet tall, with shoulders broad enough to fill the doorframe.
His sandy hair is cropped short, and despite the welcoming smile on his face, there's no mistaking the coiled strength in his movements - the kind that comes from years of MC life.
His forearms, exposed by rolled-up sleeves, are heavily muscled and decorated with faded tattoos that disappear under his cuffs.
"Brick," he says, extending a hand that dwarfs mine when we shake. His grip is carefully restrained, but I can feel the power behind it. "Thanks for getting Abby's best friend here safely."
"Jude Carson," I reply, matching his firm handshake.
Despite his friendly demeanor, there's something inherently intimidating about the awareness that this is a man who's seen and dealt with trouble.
His eyes, while warm as they greet us, have that same watchful quality I've seen in men who've lived dangerous lives. "And it was my pleasure."
When he turns to embrace Zennika, the contrast between her slight frame and his muscular build is striking. Yet there's a gentleness in how he handles her, the same careful control I noticed in his handshake. This is clearly a big man who has grown accustomed to moderating his strength.
"Zen!" The nickname sounds almost incongruously gentle coming from such an imposing figure. "Abby's been driving everyone crazy waiting for you to arrive."
"I was not checking every five minutes," Abby protests, swatting his arm playfully. "It was at least seven or eight."
The easy affection between them is obvious and genuine. It makes me happy to see Abby found someone who clearly adores her.
"Let's get you guys settled," Brick offers. "I'll help with the bags."
Between the three of us, we manage all the luggage in one trip. The inn is as charming inside as out, with antique furniture, hardwood floors, and floral wallpaper that somehow avoids being tacky. An elderly woman at the reception desk greets us with a warm smile.
"You must be Miss Wallace and Mr. Carson," she says, consulting a clipboard. "We have you in the Azalea Room and the Dogwood Room. Adjacent, as requested."
I glance at Zennika, who looks as surprised as I feel. Adjacent rooms, not shared. Someone has made assumptions about our sleeping arrangements.
"Actually," Zennika begins, but Abby cuts her off.
"I put you in separate rooms because I wasn't sure what the situation was," she explains in a whisper. "But they connect with a shared bathroom, so..." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
Brick laughs. "Subtle, babe. Really subtle."
"What?" Abby looks innocently between us. "I'm just being a considerate friend. And my maid of honor deserves special treatment."
The receptionist pretends not to hear this exchange, focusing very intently on the registration book.
"Here are your keys," she says, handing over two old-fashioned keys on decorative fobs.
"Breakfast is served from seven to nine in the dining room, but you're welcome to coffee and tea in the parlor anytime.
The welcome dinner tonight is at seven in the garden, weather permitting. "
"Thank you," I say, accepting the keys and passing one to Zennika. Our fingers brush in the exchange, and even that brief contact sends awareness skittering through me.
"I'll show you to your rooms," Abby announces, grabbing Zennika's arm. "Brick, can you help Jude with the bags?"
Without waiting for an answer, she drags Zennika toward the stairs, already chattering about wedding details. Brick and I exchange amused glances before gathering the remaining luggage and following.
"Sorry about the hurricane that is my fiancée," Brick says as we climb the stairs. "She gets a little intense when she's excited."
"I remember," I reply, smiling despite myself. "Abby's always been all-in on everything she does."
"You two know each other from before?"
"High school," I explain, not elaborating. I'm not sure how much Abby has told him about our brief history.
"Right, you're Jason's friend." He nods, putting the pieces together. "Abby's mentioned you before."
"All good things, I hope." I keep my tone light, though I'm genuinely curious.
"Nothing but," he assures me, and I believe him. Brick seems like the kind of guy who'd be straightforward rather than diplomatic. "She said you were her first real heartbreak, but that you're a good man who helped her understand what she really needed in a partner."
The assessment catches me off guard. "She said that?"
"Abby sees the best in everyone," he says with a shrug. "It's one of the things I love most about her."
We reach the second floor, where the hallway stretches in both directions, doors spaced evenly along both sides. Abby's voice drifts from a room at the far end, excited and rapid-fire.
"Sounds like she's got Zen cornered for wedding talk," Brick observes. "Your rooms are down this way. Fair warning, the bridal party is having a luncheon in about an hour, so you probably won't see either of them until the welcome dinner tonight."
"Thanks for the heads up." I follow him to a pair of doors near the end of the hall.
"This is you," he says, stopping at one. "Zennika's is next door. They connect through the bathroom, like Abby said."
I take my bag from him. "Thanks for the help."