Chapter 23
twenty-three
Caroline
"She's the worst," Sam murmured, throwing her purse over her shoulder. "Your sister changes her mind every day about the wedding. She can't make up her mind about anything."
"Told you she'd be a bridezilla," I said, knowing damn well there is no way to please that woman.
"She's the worst kind," she added. "The wedding is almost here, she can’t keep making changes."
"Then you're just going to have to tell her no."
"Tell her no," she repeated, and then a smile stretched across her face, and we both let out a loud snick. We knew—oh, how well we knew—that telling my sister "no" was never a word she’d ever accept.
"By the way, you forgot to text me back," she said, narrowing her eyes. "How is your concussion?"
"What concussion?" I replied, thoroughly confused.
"The one you must have to make you so confused that you were caught in a bathroom hooking up with Reese Carrington?
Have you lost your mind?" She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to an angry whisper.
"I thought it was strange he was taking you home from Taillight Tapout, and Kim just told me the rumor going around that you two were.
.. in Willow's bathroom. Was that the night I left with Crew? "
The truth was clawing at the edges of my conscience. Losing my mind was a definite possibility.
"It's not what you think it is," I murmured, almost pleading with her to understand—except I didn’t even understand what was going on.
"So you weren't hooking up with him?" she pressed, hand on her hip.
"Well," I began, the word slipping out as a half-sigh, "I kind of was."
I continued to walk in front of Sam, toward the front entrance of the bar. "Kind of?" she echoed behind me. "You do remember that he was the sole reason for the most humiliating day of your childhood, right?"
I could feel the weight of that memory, the painful beat of my heart when I thought about it. The shame I felt, the sting of betrayal sharp as ever when I thought of Reese's role in it all.
"Trust me, I know," I admitted. "But we were just kids back then, and it's complicated. He's a lot different than I always thought he was."
I knew she didn’t believe the diminishment of my pain. It was the kind of moment that carved itself into your memories, no matter how badly you wanted to forget it. Now wasn’t the time, though, and I knew I had to downplay it even though that moment still hurt when I thought back on it.
Sam leaned in, her voice rising over the tinkling glasses and chatter. "I can imagine," she whispered, her eyes scanning mine as she tried to understand. "Just be careful. We both know who he is."
As I pulled the door open, I thought about the undeniable force that Reese exerted—the magnetic feeling I had around him, the electricity between us that both thrilled and terrified me.
I knew this was the same man who, as a little boy, played a role in my downfall.
That moment changed me forever, and I learned how cruel the world could be.
It forced me to toughen up in order to protect myself.
In the end, it didn’t really matter. Reese Carrington was basically dissolving before my very eyes, leaving this place—and me with it—behind soon.
"Oh, trust me, I know."
"Two vodka sodas," Sam told the bartender. As he nodded and turned away, she swiveled back to me, eyes alight with mischief and curiosity.
"Okay, now that we're over the whole 'making sure you're of right mind' thing," she started, then the corners of her mouth twisted into a knowing smirk, "can you tell me now what the heck it's like to hook up with Reese Carrington?"
"Incredible," I breathed out, the word barely more than a sigh. My mind was instantly swept up in the serious and intense expression on his face before he kissed me, the way he smelled so good I’d contemplated finding a way to steal one of his sweatshirts.
And then there were his hands—those large, veiny, sexy hands.
Sculpted by god knows how many years of gripping baseballs and bats.
When had I ever thought hands were sexy?
I was definitely losing my ever loving mind.
"His hands," I managed to add, voice trailing off as the memory threatened to swallow me whole. Sam watched me, silently observing the internal tumult her question had unleashed. She offered no words, only a faint nod, understanding immediately.
"Damn," she murmured. "I was hoping the rumors about him were all lies."
"I mean, we haven't hooked up… but we have done a few things, and from what I can tell..."
Sam's gaze shifted past my shoulder to the door, interrupting my trailing words. "Speaking of potential husbands for you," she said with a playful arch of her brow, "look who just walked in."
Wells Clark. The very notion of him as spouse material almost made me spit out my drink.
"I’d rather marry Goldilocks," I declared, flipping my hair like I was in a shampoo commercial.
“Even I can’t deny the cuteness of Goldilocks, I’ll give you that,” she replied with a smirk. “But unfortunately, marrying an animal is outside the scope of legally recognized marriages.”
“Typical,” I sighed dramatically. “This country's progress is truly disappointing.”
I pulled my phone from my back pocket, feeling it vibrate.
"Bridezilla's calling," I murmured to Sam, a wry smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I stood up.
The phone continued its insistent buzzing, demanding, just like my sister.
With a resigned sigh, I slipped out the back door, finding a quiet hidden area outside.
The dim glow from the bar's windows stretched across the gravel, reaching towards the darkness that led to the alleyway.
"Caroline, have you tried on your bridesmaid dress yet?" Her voice crackled through the speaker. I leaned against a brick wall, realizing I should have never picked up her call.
"Not yet," I confessed, tracing my fingers along the rough brick. "But I'm sure it fits."
"Well, you better hope it does because there's no time to get another one. You should have made sure it fit last week," she snapped.
"It’ll be fine," I said, brushing it off.
"Caroline, you're so insensitive. Can't you do even one thing right?"
"Insensitive?" I echoed with disbelief. "You're the one inconveniencing everyone by rushing this wedding."
There was silence, but I could feel the weight of her scorn. "Amazing, Caroline. So sorry my wedding is an inconvenience for you," she spat out before the line went dead,
A long exhale escaped me as I tried to shove away my annoyance. With a flick of my wrist, I slid my phone into the sanctuary of my back pocket.
“That didn’t sound good.”
Startled, I spun on my heel, the soles of my boots scraping against the pavement as if trying to ground me back to reality.
Wells Clark emerged from the shadowy threshold between two buildings, his figure outlined by the weak light that spilled from an overhead street lamp.
“No, it's never good with my sister,” I replied.
"Well, things don’t seem too good with us either," he said, inching closer.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "What do you mean?"
"I've heard some rumors," he murmured. "Please tell me they aren't true."
"Well, depends on what those rumors are, Wells."
"Heard you're hooking up with Carrington," he said. I remembered then why I hated this small town.
"Who is saying this?" I asked, trying my best to avoid answering that question.
"It doesn't matter… but I know that can't be true because you’ve been leading me on for how long now?"
Did he just say leading him on? I never knew what to expect out of his mouth, but certainly not that. I never promised him anything, and didn’t owe him any explanation.
"And what if I was?" The words tumbled out from my frustration.
"Then I’d say that’s pretty slutty," he spat out. His eyes darkened in a way that made it seem like there was nothing behind them at all. "I’ve been at this for months now, and he comes out of nowhere, and you just give it up to him?"
I swallowed hard against the tightness in my throat.
"That’s uncalled for. I wasn’t leading you on," I told him.
"You were," Wells declared with entitlement. "I deserve something... and you're not leaving here until I get it."
"Not a chance." The words left my lips without thought, as I tried not to let him see the panic I was feeling.
His hand shot out, closing around my wrist. I winced, pulse hammering against his thumb as he leaned close. "I can make you feel so much better than he can," Wells murmured, his voice dark and twisted. "Let me show you."
I tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened, fingers branding me with his unwanted touch. A cold laugh bubbled up from the pit of my stomach, mingling with the bile of fear. "Let go of me," I demanded, the command roughened by rising fear.
He refused to release me. My free hand clawed at his grip, trying desperately to pry his fingers from my skin, but it was like fighting against iron shackles.
Suddenly, he pivoted, maneuvering me until my back collided with the brick wall. The impact sent a jolt through my body. But even that physical shock couldn’t wake me from this nightmare.
"Let me show you," he grunted. "You and I both know you want this."
Desperation clawed inside me, a silent scream struggling to break free. His words slithered over me, igniting an inferno of defiance within my chest.
"Stop," I gasped, the word fractured. Wells's hand slithered up beneath the hem of my shirt. The world narrowed down to his touch, invasive and unwelcome, making me see pure red. His breath was ragged with anticipation, but then he loosened his grip just enough—a fatal mistake.