Sundown Somewhere (Hayes Family #3)

1. Hux

1

HUX

He’s not here.

I don’t know that I have ever wanted to punch Jeff Holcomb as much as I do in this moment. And that’s saying something. Because he’s pulled a lot of shit over the years.

But this…this takes the cake.

He’s the fucking groom, for crying out loud.

And he’s not here.

I flex my hands, mostly to stop myself from putting a hole in the drywall of Hickory Hills Baptist’s vestibule—one that I would inevitably have to patch up. That’s not the only thing stopping me though. The fact that I’m the man of honor and need to be on my best behavior for the bride’s sake is what is really keeping me collected.

This is her day. It’s about making her dreams come true. And that means finding this fucker and getting his ass down that aisle so they can live happily ever after. Or some shit like that.

Sucking in a deep breath, I count to ten, trying to tamp down the fury raging inside me. Not that it helps. Fuck, at this point I could count to one million and I don’t think it would do a damn thing. Still, I have to try.

That is, until I look over at my oldest brother, Gus. To the average person, the solemn look on his face probably doesn’t look any different from the one that is plastered there at any given moment on any other day. But as his brother, I know. It’s different.

More than that, the concern woven in the green eyes of his girlfriend, Margeaux, who is half a step behind him, finishes the story.

The fucker really isn’t here.

Gus stops just shy of where I’m standing, not bothering to hide his assessment of me in my tux, as if he hasn’t done this every time he’s seen me today. Including three times before I left the house this morning. In any other situation it would be more than enough to annoy me. Today though, it barely registers.

“Sorry…but he’s not…” Gus trails off, shaking his head, not wanting to say what I already know. Margeaux slides up next to him, slipping her arm around him and squeezing.

The awkward twinge of what all this means hangs in the air, all three of us unwilling to acknowledge it out loud. Because this can’t mean that. It simply can’t.

“No,” I bark. “Where’s Ryan? Or Jeremy? One of them has to have heard from him.”

There’s no way the best man or the groom’s brother don’t know where he is. For that matter, I know I saw Mr. and Mrs. Holcomb walk in. Certainly they know where their son is. Right? A mother aways knows. There’s no way in hell that my mother, Miss Belle, wouldn’t be up my ass and around the corner on my wedding day making sure that everything was perfect.

Gus shakes his head again. “Both of them tried calling him. No answer.”

“Not fucking possible.”

I turn on my heel, starting to pace. We have a church full of people, all expecting my childhood best friend, Dolly McLain, to walk down that aisle at any moment, looking like the princess she is, and marry the love of her life.

Except we don’t have a groom.

To make matters worse—Dolly has no fucking clue.

Nope. Because as the man of honor, it’s my job to make sure that her day is a dream come true. And that dream includes not knowing that the groom is missing.

Which is why she’s sequestered upstairs in the bridal room with her bridesmaids, none the wiser to this dilemma. One that I’m going to solve before she gets wind of it.

I hope.

“He’s not at the dealership, and no one there has heard from him,” Milo, my second oldest brother says, jogging up to us, slipping his phone into his pocket. My pulse kicks up, although I’m not sure if it’s out of more anger that we still don’t know where he is, or gratitude that Milo thought to call Jeff’s employer. “Sales manager was a little surprised I was calling, making a joke about isn’t today his wedding day, and then realized that wasn’t exactly funny.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” I exaggerate. Even though this is the exact opposite of funny. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Errr, I hate to be the one who goes there, but…” Margeaux interjects, looking between all of us. Her red hair reflects the sunlight from the stained glass window in the church door as she moves, stealing my attention for a brief second. She may be the newest member of the extended Hayes bunch, but she fits in so seamlessly, it’s tough to remember that she hasn’t always been around. “Could something have happened?”

Something? What kind of something?

“Between last night and now?” Gus questions.

Margeaux shrugs. “He and his groomsmen were throwing them back pretty hard last night at Pour Decisions. I don’t know where they went from there, but…”

“I took everyone’s keys,” Milo says. Last night’s rehearsal dinner was held at his bar, so if there is anyone who would know, it’s him. “Standard Pour Decisions practice. Then Brandt shuttled them all back to the Ramblers’ Rest. Not to say that they couldn’t have gotten up to no good from there, but…this is Hickory Hills.”

He lets out a wry laugh, but I shoot him a look. He should know better. Hickory Hills might be a small town in the middle of rural Georgia, but we Hayes kids got up to our fair share of no good back in the day. As the middle of seven kids, I often found myself smack-dab in the center of the trouble too. Hell, I made it my mission some days. So I can confidently say that if you want to find it, you can.

That said, being dropped off at the roadside “inn”—if you want to call it that—the night before your wedding is a far cry from stirring up trouble with your friends. Especially when you don’t know the town.

“And we checked the inn?” I ask.

“Anton’s headed there now,” Milo answers.

My stomach churns, a pang of guilt starting to gnaw at me that I didn’t consider that maybe there is a legitimate reason Jeff isn’t here. That it has nothing to do with him being an asshole.

Don’t get me wrong—he’s an asshole. A first class, grade A, prime choice asshole.

But he makes Dolly happy, for reasons I will never understand. Reasons I don’t need to understand. All I need to know is that he does.

And if she’s happy, then nothing else matters.

My phone buzzes against my leg, and I reach into my pocket, desperate for some kind of news. Good news. Something. Anything. Fuck, Jeff being in a coma at this point would at least give me something to pass along to the bride and all her guests.

“Anton,” I answer, without looking at the screen. If it’s anyone other than the brother right above me in the lineup, they’re just going to have to deal with being called the wrong name.

“No dice. He’s not here.”

Like I said, first class, grade A, prime choice asshole.

“And it gets worse.”

Excuse me?

I swallow hard, my throat drier than the Sahara, while the rest of me feels like it could go up in flames at any moment. Because if there was ever a time that you don’t want to hear the words it gets worse , it’s while you’re trying to locate the groom at your best friend’s wedding.

“Jeff checked out this morning,” Anton continues when I don’t say anything. “According to Connie at the desk, he was booked for another night, because this is where he and Dolly were coming after the reception, but he told her that there had been a ‘change of plans.’”

A change of plans…

I huff out a breath, pretty sure that I’m a half step away from breathing fire. Whatever change of plans there was, Jeff didn’t seem to think to inform anyone else in the wedding party. Since as of a few hours ago, the other bridesmaids and I met with the local florist to get the rose petals spread all over that hotel room for tonight.

That fucker.

I end the call, not bothering to say anything to Anton. My blood is boiling and I need answers. I need to find the groom. And I’m going to start with the best man.

I push past my brothers, ready to rip some heads off. Dolly did not spend three years planning this day to have it end like this. She deserves better. She deserves the world.

“Where are you going?” Gus calls after me.

“I need to talk to Ryan.”

I slam open the church door, the bright sunlight blinding me for a second, warm April air swirling around me. You couldn’t have ordered up a better day for a wedding, the blue sky the perfect shade against the white of the few clouds floating by.

“Hux.”

The sound of my name stops me dead in my tracks only a few steps into the small, shared parking lot between Hickory Hills Baptist and the town library. Looking up, I find Ryan, the best man, staring back at me, his expression as humorless as mine.

“Where the fuck is he, Ryan?”

“Hux…I…” He holds up his hands, half in surrender, half as if to say, “I don’t know.”

“You what?”

I step in closer, ready to rip those arms right off him, but then I see it. I see the tinge of green in his skin and the flex in his jowls like he’s trying to stop himself from pitching up his breakfast. What I don’t know is if that’s the aftereffects of one too many Party Modes from last night, or something else.

“I’m sorry, Hux.”

Sorry? Sorry for what?

“Where is he?” I repeat.

“He just left.”

Left. He just left…

Now it’s my turn to be sick. Jeff just left. The groom just left his own wedding.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What do you mean he left?”

This doesn’t make sense. He was here? Why didn’t they say? Why didn’t he come in?

Ryan shakes his head, his expression morphing into something I can’t name. Something I can’t place. A mix of regret and not understanding.

“He didn’t even get out of the car. Just handed me this.” He holds out an envelope, Dolly’s name scribbled across the front. “Then he took off.”

I take the envelope, my hand trembling and stomach plummeting. Whatever that look is on Ryan’s face, I get it now. I still can’t name it, but I feel it—the realization and knowledge of what this means and what I have to do—and I wish that I didn’t.

And suddenly, I want to throw up too.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Ryan continues. He throws a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the library where he and the other groomsmen were hanging out waiting on the ceremony. “Jeremy’s still trying to call him. But, if he’s not answering his own brother, then…”

“What kind of piece of shit does this, Ryan?” I exclaim, unable to hold it back.

“Look, I know there’s no love lost between you two, but he is a good guy, promise.”

I scoff. Now is not the time to convince me of that. Not when he’s about to shatter the dreams of the best girl I know. And right now, she’s my priority.

“I need to go talk to Dolly.” Sucking in as deep a breath as I can, I fight back the urge to punch him on behalf of his best friend. It’s not Ryan’s fault, but he’d be a damn good proxy. “We need to get these guests out, and the reception torn down, with as little drama as possible.”

Which is something easier said than done. Hickory Hills is a small town, and one that loves its gossip. And one of the ringleaders of the rumor mill is Dolly’s great-aunt, Hattie Burch. Although maybe we’ll get lucky since she’s family that she won’t feel the need to talk about it publicly.

Doubtful. But one can hope.

“Tell me what you need. We’ll do whatever.”

Damn right you will…

“I’ll send one of my brothers out.”

There are times that being a Hayes in Hickory Hills is almost a burden. When you’re the direct descendant of Augustus Hayes—who along with his brother, Llewellyn, kept this town on the map by providing guns to the Confederate Army during the Civil War and subsequently founded Hayes Industries, the Fortune 500 company that your family still operates—life comes with a lot of expectations and responsibility. Especially when you and your six siblings are now the executive branch of said company that covers a wide range of industries.

But in moments like this, it’s a blessing. Because it means you have five brothers and a baby sister who are ready and willing to do whatever is needed. Plus the resources to make it happen.

I turn to go, holding up the envelope. “I need to go talk to the bride.”

I don’t bother saying anything else, but simply walk back inside, letting the heavy door slam behind me. Gus, Margeaux, and Milo are still standing in the vestibule, now joined by Milo’s girlfriend, Brenna, the four of them wide-eyed with anticipation. No one speaks as I walk past, unspoken questions floating through the air.

“Bren, will you grab Willa?” I ask, not having a clue where my sister is. “She’s best at damage control.”

“Damage control?” Gus repeats.

I nod, flicking my wrist upward to show off the envelope. A couple of gasps cut through the still air, and I assume they’re from Margeaux and Brenna, but I can’t tell. Regardless, the air shifts, sadness settling around us, my anger still raging through it.

“On it,” Brenna says.

“What do you need from us?” Milo asks.

“Once Willa figures out a plan, just make it all go away. I’m going to go take care of Dolly. She’s all that matters right now.”

All that’s ever mattered.

I leave them, making my way to the bridal room upstairs, dread filling me with each step. Dolly has been planning this day for three years. The event, I should say. When it comes to her wedding, she’s been talking about that for much longer than the three years that jack-hole drug out their engagement. There’s probably been two hundred and four versions of this day that she’s envisioned since we were kids. All of them epic and perfect.

Just like she is.

And it’s about to be undone in a matter of seconds.

Knocking on the door, I crack it open and stick my head in with my hand covering my eyes playfully. I might not be feeling it, but right now I can still play the part. “Everyone decent?”

A titter of giggles greets me, and I don’t even have to look to pick out the voices of Dolly and each one of her bridesmaids, her longtime besties Alice Evans, Emily Barrowcliff, and Rose Adler, plus her younger sister, Whitney. It’s a comforting sound, and I let it settle inside me, giving me the strength for this next part.

“Unfortunately for you, we are,” Emily quips.

I open my eyes, taking in the bridesmaids in their soft pink dresses that Dolly agonized over, worried about whether or not they would be able to use them again after. Each one of our friends looks beautiful—all prettied up for the special occasion. Any guy would be lucky to have them on their arm.

“Damn!” I joke, entering the room.

“Are we ready?”

The soft, sweet voice lights me up inside, like Tinker Bell sprinkling me with her fairy dust, the question piercing my heart. The juxtaposition of those feelings only gets worse as I turn and see the most stunning vision I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dolly McLain in a wedding dress.

My best friend since we were nine years old, I can’t imagine my life without her. Looking at her now, all done up like she belongs on a billboard, my heart stops. She’s always been beautiful, but this is next level.

Medium height, blonde hair that shimmers in the sunlight like God wove glitter into it, with some extra meat on her bones that I know she’s always been more than a little self-conscious about—especially around some of the thinner girls around town, my sister included—she’s built perfectly. Although she’d probably filet me from groin to grin if she ever heard me refer to it as meat on her bones. I don’t care though, because whatever it is means she fills out a pair of jeans perfectly.

A body like a back road. Just like the country song says.

This wedding dress too. Damn.

“Hux,” Dolly giggles, pulling me from my trance. “We ready?”

I clear my throat, heart squeezing. Fuck, I don’t want to do this.

“About that…” I start.

“What?”

Her bright blue eyes sparkle like that diamond on her hand, and I know this is the worst thing I will ever have to do.

Here goes nothing.

“Jeff’s not here.”