Chapter 7 #2
Valerie rushed forward with a box of tissues.
Becks took it and stared down at the square with printed tulips on the sides.
Only… She wasn’t crying. She’d been stood up, abandoned by her groom-to-be, the man who was supposed to love and cherish her for the rest of her life, and she wasn’t crying.
Why? Shouldn’t she be upset? Raging? Shouldn’t she be coming up with excuses for Ritchie?
Looking for him in hospitals or checking the news for any car accidents in the area? Shouldn’t she be wanting to find him?
Instead, she let out a massive breath, like she’d been holding it forever. A weight she hadn’t even realized was there lifted off her chest, and a tear did escape her eye. But it wasn’t sadness that was filling her. Relief like she’d never known filled her chest like a balloon.
Becks closed her eyes, and in that moment, knew in her heart of hearts that she didn’t want to marry Ritchie. He was a good man, a really good man, and she did love him—but she didn’t want to marry him.
She had. She didn’t doubt that for a moment, but right now, right this second, as she stood in her pastor’s office in her wedding dress, she knew that she didn’t want to.
Because, somehow, in a matter of days, she’d started to fall for someone else.
Another man, a man who made her smile and set her body on fire, and hated The Princess Bride with a passion but thought Weekend at Bernie’s was a comical masterpiece.
A man who was bossy, and brash, and demanding, and so fucking serious that Becks wanted to make it her mission in life to make him laugh at least once per day.
A man who looked ready to murder the inhabitants of her mother’s house just because Becks had scratched her own forehead.
A man who was so honorable he left her to marry another man because she had asked him to.
“Becks? Baby? Are you okay?” Her mom’s voice barely penetrated her thoughts. Because yeah, she actually was okay. Really, really okay. She had no idea what she was going to do next, but she knew it wasn’t going to be marrying Ritchie.
Another tapping on the door had everyone turning to see Liam opening it. He had his phone to his ear. “Hey, Keys got a trace on their phones. They’re still at the hotel! He’s working on getting a floor number, and then I’ll head over—”
“No!” Libby, her mom, and Valerie all jumped at the volume of Becks’ voice. She tossed the useless tissue box over her shoulder. Picking up her skirts, she hurried forward towards her brother. “Give me your phone.”
“What?” he demanded, confused.
She heard someone else talking on the other end, but ignored that too. “Give me your phone,” she demanded again, reaching for it without his permission.
Liam didn’t argue as he relinquished it to her. “Keys can’t get ahold of him either—” he started to say but Becks cut him off.
“I don’t care.” She had no idea what it was she thought she was doing.
All she knew was that Liam had Ghost’s number and she didn’t.
“Call you back,” she said hastily to whomever was on the phone.
She didn’t know if that was a lie or not, but it seemed like the thing to say.
Once she hung up the call, she went into her brother’s contacts.
Ghost/Prez was the first one in his favorites.
Becks hit the button, and put the phone to her ear. A second later, Randy Newman’s You’ve Got a Friend in Me started playing loudly down the hall. Becks frowned, as did Liam. They both looked out the door in unison.
Ghost stood at the end of the hall, covered in road dust and looking exhausted. He was pulling his phone out of his pocket, but paused when he saw Becks and Liam looking out of the doorframe at him.
Becks was so relieved she thought she might float away. She slapped the phone, still ringing, against her brother’s chest, and ran down the hall.
He was dreaming, he had to be. Because Becks couldn’t really be running down the hallway towards him in her beautiful—
What the fuck was wrong with her dress? When he’d seen her wearing it the other day, her shoulders had been bare but for a small spaghetti-strapped halter. Why did it look like she had a rain poncho on now?
The excitement and elation on her face did not help to convince him that this wasn’t a dream.
Sandy had convinced him to get some sleep last night before rushing back to Scottsboro.
While he had needed the rest, and she hadn’t argued with the pillow wall he’d built between them, Ghost hadn’t planned on sleeping that long.
His internal clock should have woken him up at five in the morning, and for all the days for it to not?
When he’d opened his eyes to see it was nearly seven, he’d grabbed his boots, keys, and wallet and run from the room without even telling Sandy ‘goodbye’ or ‘thank you’.
He had several missed calls from Keys, and if he didn’t know how exhausted he’d already been when he laid down last night, he’d question how he could have slept through all those too.
But Keys had insisted the club could handle things on their own without Ghost, and Ghost had other priorities.
Like evading speed traps and making a two hour and forty minute trip in only two hours.
A record which he did not end up making because mother nature forced him to stop and he had to do stupid human things like eat and brush his teeth or risk not surviving the trip back to her.
So there certainly was an argument to be made that he was still dreaming, he hadn’t overslept, and he was about to be woken up by his internal clock just before Becks leapt into his arms. But that fucking cape? Yeah, no fucking way he dreamed up that shit. He was definitely, definitely awake.
Ghost put a hand out to stop her. He’d seen enough of the club’s ol’ ladies do the running leap into their man’s arms to know it had been coming. Becks barely skidded to a halt in time to avoid colliding into him. Not that it would have mattered, he would have caught her regardless.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Becks blinked, her happiness draining slightly.
“What?” She looked down at her chest. “Oh, it’s this stupid fucking cape Ritchie insisted I wear in front of his bosses.
They’re really uptight about women being too ‘promiscuous’,” she added with air quotes.
“It unbuttons in the back. I can—” Becks’ eyes widened at the snap of his blade.
Ghost ran his knife from the high collar to the flare that went to her mid-abdomen. “Fucking crime to cover up your tits, Rebel.”
Becks watched, speechless, as the silky off-white garment fell off her shoulders and down to the floor by her fancy skirts.
Ghost flipped his knife closed and pocketed it. “Much better. By any chance, are you endeavoring to become a runway bride?”
She smiled up at him. “Actually, I’ve been left at the altar.”
A flash of rage hit Ghost like a sledgehammer to the chest. “The fuck?!” he shouted, not caring whose attention he drew. “I’ll kill him! No one disrespects you like that!”
Surprisingly, though, Becks laughed. She reached for his hands, which were balled into tight fists. “Ghost, it’s fine! Look at me,” she pressed, urging him to meet her entrancing eyes. “It’s fine.”
Ghost twisted his wrists to lace her fingers between his.
His rage tamped down to anger at her touch, not her words.
“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’, Becks? He left you at the altar!
” Ghost wasn’t angry at the situation, but on her behalf.
His wants and desires aside, he wouldn’t stand for anyone, including himself, to ever hurt this woman.
She stepped closer, letting go of his left hand to cup the side of his face.
“I’ve been feeling off all morning… Actually, no,” she corrected herself.
“I’ve been feeling off since you drove away yesterday.
I was wrong to tell you to go, Ghost. I do love Ritchie, but I don’t want to marry him.
And what I feel for you… It’s so different and so strong. It scared me, Ghost, and I panicked.”
His free hand went to her waist, dragging her even closer to him. “You’re fucking this up for me, you know.”
Becks blinked rapidly. “Excuse me? I’m trying to tell you I have feelings for you, and you tell me that I’m fucking this up for you?”
He cracked a smile, loving her outburst. It was fucking adorable.
“I was coming to stop your wedding, Becks. To tell you that you shouldn’t be marrying him.
” He didn’t know if it was where they were or her dress or the look in her eyes, but he knew his next words felt right, even if they were spontaneous.
“I came to tell you that you should be marrying me.”
The shock on her face caused her cheeks to flush beautifully. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious,” Ghost told her honestly. “Marry me, Rebecca I-Don’t-Know-Your-Middle-Name Fremont. I started falling for you after a day. Can you imagine how in love with you I’ll be a year from now?”
“The fuck?” came from down the hallway before Becks could reply.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw her brother storming towards them.
She’d completely forgotten about their audience.
Thankfully, they were nowhere near the sanctuary where all the guests, including friends and family, were gathered to see her get married today.
Well, with Ghost’s proposal, they might still get to see that. Marriage? She barely knew Ghost. She’d been dating Ritchie for seven months before he proposed, and even that had felt like a fast-paced, whiplash romance. In comparison, she’d been going at a snail’s pace.