Chapter 11
eleven
Caroline
"Big night ahead, huh?" Sam nudged me playfully, misinterpreting my frown. "Your sister's final fling before the ring!"
The pace of this wedding was dizzying, each event blurring into the next as we raced through the festivities for Charlotte.
The relentless planning that was in overdrive, the bachelorette party today, the shower coming up—was enough to give anyone whiplash.
In this madness, how could it possibly feel right to Charlotte?
How could she enjoy blazing through all of this?
"Something like that," I muttered, forcing a smile. "I'll catch up with you later if you decide to go out though.”
"Sounds good," she said, quickly fixing her hair before following me out of the bathroom.
I rushed out of the Blue Devils facility and sped over to my sister's house, knowing she would be furious if I was even a minute late.
Just as I arrived, the limousine, which felt more suited for prom night than a bachelorette party, pulled up with all the subtlety of a marching band.
It was just for the four of us—my sister, her best friend and maid of honor, my brother's wife, and me.
"Cheers to the bride-to-be!" I raised my glass, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as the vehicle navigated the streets. The ride over was a blur, punctuated by the pop of another cork. I matched their enthusiasm drink for drink, the annoyance of tonight dissolving with each sip.
The limo slowed to a stop outside Gin and Jerry's. The bass was thumping from within, and as the limo door opened, I peered out cautiously, hoping to go unnoticed. Relief washed over me as I stepped onto the pavement—no prying eyes, no whispers. I was happily in the clear.
"Come on, Caroline!" My sister's voice, bubbly with excitement, urged me forward.
The bar swallowed us whole, the bodies all around jostled and swayed to the music. My gaze landed on the familiar faces of the Blue Devils. The whole baseball squad was clustered around the pool table.
"Let’s do shots!" My brother’s wife, Kay suggested, her voice rising over the music.
"Definitely," I yelled, feeling the need to keep drinking to get through this night. We moved our way through the crowd, shoulders brushing against strangers, until we reached the bar. The bartender nodded in recognition at my sister, already lining up glasses.
"Four of the usual, coming right up," he called out, reaching for the liquor bottles behind him.
"Make them strong," my sister added, throwing a flirtatious wink his way.
I tapped my fingers on the bar, watching the bartender pour our shots with practiced ease.
"Here's to new beginnings," I said, raising mine in the air.
"Here's to being the future Mrs. Penny," my sister's maid of honor, Stella cheered, and we all downed the shots in unison.
The opening chords of a song shattered conversations, drawing all eyes to the bartenders who suddenly vaulted onto the bar. The nearest one grinned and gestured wildly at our little bachelorette party. "Ladies, your stage awaits!" she shouted over the music.
"Go on! I've got your stuff," I urged the group, shoving their purses into my arms as they squealed with delight.
Standing back, I fumbled with my phone, trying to capture the moment as they began dancing, laughing hysterically. I found myself grinning—even snickering—as I snapped photo after photo.
"Looking good tonight, Matthews."
I turned as Wells Clark's lopsided grin slid into view.
He leaned against the bar with an ease that was both irritating and endearing, the glow of the neon lights catching the mischief in his eyes.
Wells and I had always had a flirty relationship.
More than once, I'd thought about possibly taking things further, but there was a slight problem—his intelligence wasn't quite on par with his charm.
"Thanks Clark, but you said that the last time I saw you."
He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. "Can’t believe you remembered that. I don’t even remember what I did ten minutes ago," he replied.
"Guess you’ll have to come up with a better compliment," I said as I tapped him on the back. Wells just laughed, and even though it wasn’t actually funny, for a moment, it was enough—to distract me from having to celebrate my sister and her perfect life.
But then, I noticed it like an unwelcome intruder, my gaze inadvertently drifted over Wells' broad shoulder.
Reese was with his entourage, Bailey babbling something in his ear while Crew chimed in.
But Reese's eyes were locked onto mine, their intensity sending a shiver down my spine.
Quickly, I shifted my attention back to Wells, pretending to be fascinated with his latest anecdote.
It was a performance, a signal to Reese that he had absolutely no impact on me.
The truth? Giving into Reese in any capacity would be dangerous—the kind of danger I might never recover from.
He was everything I stood against: privileged, adored, and so effortlessly perfect it made my teeth clench.
No, I wouldn't be “Reese'd and released,” and I’d never let him have the power to hurt me ever again.
"Matthews? You still with me?" Wells asked, bringing my focus back to him again.
"Still here," I lied because I wasn’t really. Wells' words had long since faded into the background. "It's been great, but I should probably get back to my sister."
He leaned in, his grin hopeful and a little too eager. "Well, save me a dance for later?"
"I'll think about it," I said with a soft smile.
My sister was no longer dancing but now sipping her drink. Her hair was messy, and she was glassy-eyed and giggling to herself.
"What’s so funny?" I asked, as I slid into the seat beside her.
"Life," she slurred, waving her hand dramatically, "is just amazing right now."
"It’s always amazing for you," I retorted, unable to mask the skepticism in my voice. "And if Dan's so flawless, why do you need a shotgun wedding?"
Her laughter died, eyes narrowed into slits.
"How dare you call it that? Who are you to judge me, Caroline?" Charlotte used that tone—the one that meant her words were about to cut like a knife, twisting just enough to make sure I felt every bit of it. “You're nobody. An underpaid cheer coach, useless committee president—big deal… and don’t even get me started on your dating life. We all know it’s non-existent because no one wants you. You’re pathetic.”
"I’m pathetic?" Out of everything she said, the single word—pathetic—latched on tight, hitting me harder than I expected. The bar's smoky haze curled around us, but not enough to hide the hurt and humiliation written all over my face.
“Yes, you’re pathetic, and the entire family is ashamed of you. Marriage, financial security, children, none of that is in the cards for you, and you know how important that is to them. You’re embarrassing our family.”
She didn’t stop there. She kept spitting more and more terrible things. Each whispered insult from Charlotte took on a life of its own, echoing off the dark wood walls, while the bottles lining the shelves stood like silent judges behind the bar.
I wanted to lash out, to let my normally quick tongue shield me from the pain, but the words were somehow lodged in my throat, stubborn and immovable. I could only stand there, held captive by the weight of Charlotte's condemnation, feeling every bit the failure she painted me as.
Stella swiveled on her stool, holding her drink in mid-sip—before chiming in. "Didn't your mother once say she never stood a chance from the start?"
Charlotte let out the fakest chuckle I’d ever heard. "Oh, you mean because she was a mistake? Mom and Dad only wanted two perfect children, and then along came Caroline, the constant failure. The fuck-up."
I should’ve been used to cruelty—familiar with it, maybe even numb to it.
But it never got easier. Every time cut a little deeper, leaving me exposed, feeling the same hurt from old memories I never wanted to keep.
Charlotte’s mocking voice dragged me straight back to childhood, when her constant ridicule always made me feel so small.
My favorite little stuffed horse peeked out from the top of my backpack. I named him Sir Trotty-Trot. Charlotte spotted it one afternoon, her laugh piercing as she pointed it out to her friends so they could collectively laugh and judge me.
"Caroline still carries around her stuffed toys like a baby," she teased, loving any opportunity to make fun of her baby sister.
In a desperate attempt for acceptance, I plucked Sir Trotty-Trot from the warmth of my backpack and tossed him into a bush, abandoning my only ally in the hopes of gaining entry into a club that would never truly open its doors to me.
My heart shattered with each step I took away from him, my sister never even noticing how painful it was for me.
That night, as I laid in bed, staring at the empty space on my pillow where Sir Trotty-Trot should have been, the ache in my chest felt too big for my small body to hold.
Then, soft footsteps echoed from beneath my door before there was a quiet shuffle. A moment later, Cooper slipped inside—my first hero.
"Here," he whispered, tucking the worn stuffed animal into the empty spot beside me, his touch careful, like he knew how much it mattered. Like he knew I needed saving. "He missed you."
And just like that, the world wasn’t so broken anymore. Even if only for a moment. As I clutched my little mini horse to my chest, the bond between me and my brother tightened, forming an understanding that no amount of cruelty from Charlotte could ever sever.
But he wasn’t here to rescue me now. I was all alone.