Wade
I watched as everyone around me toasted their drinks to the radiant bride and groom, a profound sense of sadness flooding my weathered soul.
Sure, I was happy for my brother and his new wife, Stella, as they accepted their well-earned congratulations with beaming smiles permanently etched on their faces. They deserved this. They had been through hell and back for their happy ending.
I was happiest, though, with the glass of top-shelf bourbon resting against my palm, its cool bite a reminder that I could feel something, anything. The warmth of the amber liquid pooled low in my belly, radiating out to every inch of my skin, burning away the one fuck I had left to give.
Hell, I was even happy sitting back and watching my best friend, Ray, flirt with every single warm-blooded man in attendance. Well, maybe I wasn’t happy about that one. I was indifferent; that was the most accurate way to put it.
The indifference was new; normally, the thought of Ray with another man would have sent me into a blind rage.
Lately, all I could feel was the emptiness left by my losses—a hollow reminder of what life had taken from me. There was a pivotal piece of my soul missing. Like a phantom limb, I felt the ache of a piece of me I wouldn’t ever get back. That reminder was the catalyst for my ever-present bad mood.
The searing pain of a bullet narrowly missing my spine had become a recurring nightmare. That was about the only thing I felt in excruciating detail; everything else was shrouded in a haze of indifference.
The reminder that I would likely never get on a horse again brought with it a crushing realization I had been forced to accept.
Though the word “never” still tasted like acid on my tongue. I wanted to see it as a challenge, but the alternate reality of becoming a quadriplegic should something go wrong wasn’t a reality I wanted to entertain.
Here, at what should have been one of the most joyous moments of our family’s life, I felt the scrutiny of societal standards, being that I was the last single Daniels man.
I guess being thirty and a perpetual bachelor loses its appeal when your twin brother settles down and becomes a stepdad all in one fell swoop.
Although everyone was breathing down my neck, wondering when I was finally going to get hitched, I couldn’t find it in myself to take a step in that direction.
Realistically, I couldn’t force myself to make a move in any direction.
After all, who wants to date a washed-up cowboy with an alcohol dependency, a fucked-up back, no job, no house of his own, and debilitating trauma he refused to acknowledge?
Yeah, I sure sound like a fucking catch.
I swirled the amber liquid around my glass before taking a hearty swig. The bourbon burned its way down my throat, pushing down the bubbling anxiety threatening to overtake me.
I’d never been a particularly heavy drinker, not even in my early twenties. I’d have a beer or two out with my brother and our friends at the local dive bar, but getting obliterated and not remembering what or who I’d done held very little appeal.
Especially when my days consisted of being up at the ass crack of dawn doing manual labor.
But after “the incident,” as I like to call it, I refused to take anything stronger than some ibuprofen. I didn’t like the way the pills made me feel—floaty and uncontrolled. Alcohol temporarily numbed the pain, physically and mentally, without the side effect of a dependency on narcotics.
Although I am certain that I was simply replacing one dependence with another, I added that to the increasingly long list of things that I had lost the ability to give a fuck about.
A loud laugh broke me from my self-deprecating spiral; the joyous sound was hearty and unrefined. There was no denying whose laugh that was. I’d been hearing it since I was thirteen years old.
Rayna Cortez.
Ray was the one thing that could brighten even the darkest of my days. She had been my best friend since we were kids. Ever since she had gotten lost in the woods between our houses and had adamantly declared us best friends, we were attached at the hip.
Her presence was as warm and bright as the sun itself, which is how I’d come up with her nickname. Every time she walked into a room, all eyes were on her. For some reason, whenever she was around, I felt like I could breathe again.
Champagne in hand, she giggled at the bartender’s words, her dainty fingers playfully toying with the glass as I watched her flirt shamelessly. His eyes trailed over the soft curves of her breasts as he blatantly looked her over, making zero effort to hide his interest.
There was absolutely no denying that Rayna Cortez was a knockout. Men were always left speechless around her, their jaws dropping in awe as she unknowingly commanded their attention.
Standing at five foot four, she compensated for her lack of height with a healthy dose of sass. She had curves, but not in a way that made her disproportionate. She filled out a pair of Wranglers better than any woman I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a lot of women in Wranglers around the rodeo circuit.
The dress she wore tonight was like a second skin, as if it were painted directly onto her luscious body.
It hugged every single one of her curves, dipping in at her slender waist and flaring out over those beautiful, God-given hips.
She had pulled her dark brown hair into an elegant updo, highlighting the slender slope of her neck.
Fuck, she was stunning.
As if she could feel the heat of my stare on her skin, she turned her hazel eyes in my direction, her mouth pulling up on one side in her signature devilish grin she reserved just for me.
Her knowing smile was undoubtedly a challenge. She was watching to see if her conversation with another man would push me over the edge and make me want to show her how much I wanted her.
The two of us had been playing with fire for years. Ray and I were both exceedingly attracted to each other, but we knew that being together was a direct risk to our friendship. So, instead of taking the risk, neither of us dared to discuss the true extent of our affection.
If we did, there would be no turning back.
I watched with rapt attention as she tapped her manicured hand on the top of the bar and mouthed a “thank you” to the bartender before heading in my direction.
Anticipating Ray’s inevitable meddling, I finished off the rest of my bourbon, hoping the liquid courage would do its job.
I watched as her strides ate up the distance between us, the undeniable tug of lust thrumming through my veins.
“Dance with me?” she asked, holding out one of her hands in offering.
There wasn’t much I’d say no to when it came to Rayna Cortez. She had me wrapped around her little finger and a vice grip on my balls.
“Do I ever say no to you?” I questioned, my voice husky from lack of use.
I had barely uttered a word since I had walked down the aisle at the church with my brother, watching him marry the woman who was the reason I currently hated my life.
As I put my hand in hers and moved my chair back to stand, Ray gave me that same trademark smirk.
Even though I had a significant height advantage, she remained unfazed as I towered over her. She could easily take my six-foot-three frame and make me feel two feet tall with the flick of her wrist.
Had I mentioned that I was an absolute goner for this woman?
She led me out onto the makeshift dance floor, where couples were swaying to a crooning country song. Never one to hesitate, she grabbed my other hand and placed it right where her hip dipped in and pulled me close. I rolled my eyes at her not-so-subtle insistence.
She smelled intoxicating, a heady mix of vanilla and cinnamon that had me wishing I could pull her closer and trail my nose down her neck.
“What’s up with you tonight?” she questioned bluntly, her tone snippy and straightforward, not one to beat around the bush.
I looked over the top of her head at where my brother and his new wife were sitting at the newlyweds’ table, not an inch of space between them.
Sleep threatened to overtake Charlie, my now niece, but Max kept her perched on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around each of his girls, always the protector.
A sudden, hot wave of anger flared within me. Why did they get the happily ever after, and I get the bullet in the back?
“Wade…” Ray reached up and cupped my cheek, noticing where my eyes had wandered, and forced my gaze back to hers. The worry and concern reflected in her eyes were undeniable.
Great, the last thing I needed was the most beautiful fucking woman in the world pitying me.
“Wade, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I snapped.
A scoff escaped her lips as she brought her hand to my chest, pulling me near, focusing my attention on the sensation of our bodies almost touching instead of the anger burning its way through me.
“And here I thought I was the girl in this relationship,” she huffed, a frustrated sigh puffing through her plush lips.
“Ain’t no relationship here, Sunshine,” I grit out between clenched teeth. The words felt wrong as they tumbled past my lips.
I didn’t have a single logical explanation for why I was acting like a dick toward Ray. She’d done nothing wrong. She had been nothing short of smotheringly supportive since the incident, and I was, some days, grateful to have her help. Even if I did a shitty job of showing it.
“You’re being a dick, Wade Daniels.”
“I’m being truthful.”
I could see the hurt that washed over her eyes, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. She didn’t need my baggage. There were so many men at this wedding whose focus never left her that she could have had her pick of them.
Hell, she could have her pick of the men of Firefly Cove. Ray was a catch. She was smart, sweet, strong, and she sure didn’t need to be hung up pining after my washed-up ass.
The hand that had been resting on my chest was once again on my face, this time gripping my chin between her thumb and index finger, demanding my undivided attention. Her grip was unwavering, and her eyes bore into mine, with a stern look of determination on her face.
“Listen here, you sulky motherfucker. I know what happened to you sucked.”
I jerked my chin from her grasp, a scoff escaping my lips. It more than sucked, but I would let her continue her clearly long overdue reprimand if it got her off my back for a night or two.
“Wade.” Her tone was gentler as she skated her fingers across my jaw, tiny pinpricks of electricity in their wake.
“I’m sorry that life’s dealt you a shit hand lately.
It’s not fair; that’s for damn sure. But you’re walking around this place like Stella is the one directly responsible for you getting—”
I cut her off by gripping her wrist harshly and removing her touch from my skin.
Taking a step back and running my fingers through my hair, I scoffed.
“Isn’t she, though? I wouldn’t have been there if she hadn’t gone off on some fucked-up vigilante mission because she couldn’t let your dad handle things like he’d asked us to.
” The words burned as they left my lips, but Ray and I never shied away from speaking our truths to each other.
Well, most of them.
Feeling the anger bubbling up to the surface, and not wanting to make a scene, I stalked off, leaving Ray on the dance floor, a look of defeat marring her face, as I sulked to the bar. I slammed my hand down on the bar top, startling the bartender mixing drinks.
That’s what he gets for flirting with my woman.
My woman. Fuck.
Ray wasn’t my woman. She wasn’t anyone’s woman. She sure as hell wouldn’t want to be my woman now. I’d just pissed her off, bashed her best friend, and left her on the dance floor alone at a wedding. I’d no doubt hear about it tomorrow after she let me stew in my fuck up for a while.
“Bourbon, top-shelf, neat,” I gritted out to the pansy ass motherfucker behind the bar.
He wouldn’t even stand a chance if Ray got her claws into him.
She needed a man who could challenge her.
She needed a man who would stand beside her as she took the world by storm, ready to battle anything in her way.
She needed someone stronger than me, that’s for sure.
The bartender slid a rocks glass in my direction, and I tossed a five-dollar bill into his tip jar.
Max and Stella had opted for an open bar, and I was going to take full advantage of the constant flow of liquor while I wasn’t paying for it.
I looked out across the dance floor, drawn by an irresistible magnetic pull.
Ray stood on the opposite edge, a warrior on her battlefield.
She lifted her chin defiantly and schooled her features back to the bubbly and vivacious girl everyone knew and loved, slipping her mask of indifference back into place, effectively shutting me out.
The only problem was, I knew Rayna Cortez better than anyone at this wedding, and she wasn’t going down without a fight. She saw the rage simmering under my skin, and it had become her mission to bring me back to the light.
What she didn’t realize, though, was that I had gladly accepted the darkness that had become me, and there was no reason to pull me back from its shadowy claws.
What did I have waiting for me on the other side?