Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Leon
I freeze in shock for a moment, but quickly regain my posture and unlock the car as fast as my fingers will move to let my girl in.
She’s not your girl, Leon.
Hastily, Erika yanks open the gullwing door, jumps in, sounding completely out of breath, then hurriedly shoves her enormous pouffe dress into any space she can find before reaching upward to close her door, not caring if the fabric gets caught.
While she fills the tiny cockpit of my sports car with white tulle, all I can do is sit and watch her with my mouth hanging open.
“Drive, Leon. Drive,” she pants, her chest heaving as she points toward the windshield, gesturing to the road ahead before she wipes the faint sheen of sweat off her forehead. “Drive,” she shrills, sounding desperate.
Stunned for a moment, the reality of our situation sinks in, and I finally find my voice. “Drive? What?” I wave my hand dismissively and firmly reply, “No.”
But this is what you want. Why are you refusing her request?
“Yes,” she argues, her tone full of grit and firmness, snapping her head my way. “Please,” she pleads, batting those big, beautiful eyes of hers.
“You’re getting married in like,” I check the time, “two minutes.” Shit, I never would have made it.
That suits me. I didn’t want to be an usher anyway.
And honestly, that makes me a really bad friend.
Even so, despite how close we are, the idea of wearing a fake smile and pretending to be happy for her is just too painful to put into words.
Secretly, my heart, which has been slowly rotting away like a bone in acid in the days leading up to today, feels like the last remnants are about to disintegrate. I’m fucking dying inside.
A tear slips down Erika’s face, choking me with emotion. “I’m not getting married. Drive, Leon. I can’t go through with it.”
Yes.
No.
Shit.
No.
But hell… here’s the miracle I was praying for.
No, it’s wrong.
“I can’t drive you anywhere, or Ash will kill me,” I reply, my voice now three octaves higher than before.
“I will kill you if you don’t drive, Leon,” she says firmly, grabbing my hand and squeezing it hard. “Please.”
Sensing my hesitation, she begs me again to help her escape, but all I can think about is what a selfish bastard I am for focusing on how perfectly her hand fits in mine while she’s about to face one of the worst days of her life.
“I can’t marry him, Leon. It doesn’t feel right.
” Tears continue to stream down her cheeks like tiny rivers as she lets go of my hand, and I instantly miss her touch.
“I don’t feel him in my heart,” she sobs, pointing to her chest. “I just can’t.
” She shakes her head side to side. “I want to feel something. I… I… with him, I don’t feel anything.
I just can’t,” she repeats, stumbling over her words.
Usually, I’m full of jokes, but I can’t think of anything to lift her heavy mood.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, lean into the tight space, and wrap my arms around her, sending love through my touch in the hope that she feels it.
Shaking in my arms, she soaks the fabric of my shirt as she snuggles into my chest. My gut tells me there is more to her fleeing her wedding day than it just doesn’t feel right than she’s letting on.
But I let it slide. Now is not the time to push for answers.
I pull her close, letting her know I’ve got her, and kiss the top of her head, inhaling her shampoo that always smells like fresh coconut and lemongrass. Home.
“I’ve got you, beautiful,” I whisper, trying to soothe her, wishing I could take whatever unease she’s feeling away.
“Get me the hell away from here, Leon,” she sobs.
“Are you sure?”
Tipping her head back, her watery, red-rimmed eyes undo me, making my heart stutter in my chest as if she’s a human defibrillator shocking it back to life. She’s so fucking beautiful.
With determination in her tone, she replies, “I’ve never been so sure.”
Fuck it. I’d do anything for her.
“Buckle in,” I say before kissing her forehead, then I reluctantly unwrap myself from around her to fasten my own seatbelt again.
With my mind racing from so many unanswered questions, I stay quiet and give us both time to think.
“Close your eyes. Rest now, beautiful.” I find her hand again amongst the layers of lace, tulle, sparkles, and fuck knows what else is living in her dress.
There could be a harp-playing cherub in there for all I know, because it’s fucking huge and makes her look like she’s wearing a cloud.
I hate it and want to rip it off her immediately. It doesn’t suit her.
Within seconds, I merge into traffic, and just as I’m about to pass the church, my eyes meet Ash’s, who looks relaxed and isn’t throwing a hissy fit like I thought he would after discovering his sister had disappeared from the church.
Shit.
I glance at Erika and sigh with relief when I see she has closed her eyes and is resting her head against the passenger window.
My eyes stay glued to Ash’s, as if in slow motion; everything feels surreal as I pass him by. Then, he does the most surprising thing. He smiles, with pure, bright happiness spreading across his face, then gives me a thumbs-up and winks like a conspirator.
My shoulders drop, releasing any tension, like a catharsis, knowing that Ash is on Erika’s side and trusts me with his precious cargo.
He never wanted her to marry Huck.
Neither did I.
Nobody did.
And I’m so proud that Erika figured out he wasn’t right for her before it was too late.
Thank fuck.
When I hit the highway, I steal a glance at my half-asleep, beautiful disaster. My skin tingles with excitement and anticipation because the whole day has done a one-eighty.
The shit-eating grin I’m wearing makes my face ache; I couldn’t be happier.
“Where are you taking me?” she mumbles drowsily.
“My place.” Under my roof. Where she should have been all along.
“I like your new car, Leon,” she mumbles.
“Thanks.” I shift my focus from her to the road.
She states the obvious: “It’s purple.”
“Yeah.” It’s custom and looks iridescent in the sun.
“It’s my favorite color.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I keep my eyes on the road, but the corner of my mouth lifts.
I was hoping you’d notice, baby.
“I know,” I reply.
I don’t add that she told me on her porch many summers ago, barefoot and laughing.
I remember. I remember everything.
But I don’t say that either. Instead, I let the hum of the engine fill the silence, pretending it means nothing.
It’s funny how she still doesn’t see it.
How everything I do is for her.