Chapter 1
Elliot
The Day Everything Changed
My cheeks ache from smiling, but fuck if I can stop. Staring at my reflection in the mirror—my dark hair combed perfectly in place, my green eyes clear and ready to see my bride—I reach up and adjust the bowtie around my neck as my entire body hums with anticipation.
I’m getting married today.
Fletcher, my best man, stands behind me in his tux, looking at his phone. A smirk tugs at his lips as his eyes scan the screen.
“You look happier than me,” I say, and his head snaps up.
He shrugs, giving me a quick once-over before meeting my eyes again. “Yeah, not sure that’s possible.”
Crossing the room, he tucks his phone in his pocket and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You ready for this?”
I blow out a breath before spinning to face the mirror again. “I really fucking am, man. Tori is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Truth be told, getting married wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing after my grandparents died because their marriage was the only healthy example I’d ever seen.
Even before their death, I’d watched my parents’ marriage change over the years, making me lose faith in the entire idea because I’ve seen the uglier side of holy matrimony.
And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve enjoyed my single life—different women, no responsibility or commitment, the ability to do whatever I want, whenever I want.
I do think people go into marriage with the best intentions—optimistic and full of hope that it will be different for them.
Then reality slithers back in, so silently that you don’t notice until something’s already shifted, and then you realize that wanting something to last doesn’t always mean it will.
People change for the worse sometimes too. What you might want at twenty-five could change by thirty-five. And if you don’t marry someone who is willing to change with you, you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.
But with Tori? I finally feel like I can have what my grandparents had, so I’m willing to take the leap.
We’re on the same page. We want the same things.
Well, mostly… She sort of had to talk me into having kids, but she made enough good points that I can now see how the benefits outweigh the cost—both literally and figuratively.
When my eyes land on Fletcher again in the mirror, I see him staring down at his phone once more, but this time there’s a pinch in his brow. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
“What’s going on?”
Our eyes meet in the mirror and he plasters on a smile. “Nothing. Look, I’m gonna go check on a few things. You just hang tight, all right?”
Nodding, I watch him leave and then head toward the window that overlooks the courtyard of Hart Winery where the ceremony will take place in less than an hour.
Everything looks perfect, just the way Tori wanted it.
My eyes land on George Hart, the owner of the winery and Rhonan and Laney’s dad, as he talks to Anabelle, the wedding coordinator by the arch decorated with burgundy and white flowers.
George lost his wife twelve years ago and watching him go through that loss was another reason I wasn’t sure marriage was in the cards for me.
He and Elizabeth were two of the lucky ones—the people who found their other half, the person that complements them, the person that’s their best friend before everything else—and seeing how hard the grief hit him made me want to avoid falling for someone even more.
Then Rhonan, his son and one of my other best friends, went through the same thing, and I dug in harder on my decision not to bother with marriage—because even if I found someone like that, the thought of losing them might just break me in two.
The only person I’ve ever lost that changed me was my grandfather, Henry Thorne. He was the one who started the Thorne Family Law Group, our legacy and the business that has held my family together for generations despite my father’s many indiscretions.
I became a lawyer to honor him, not my dad. He taught me everything it meant to be ethical and hardworking, to put others before yourself when it counts, and what it meant to be an honorable husband.
Not all men succumb to the demons lurking inside us.
The sound of the door opening behind me pulls my attention from the window. But when I spin around expecting to see Fletcher re-enter the room, I’m thrown off by the appearance of Rhonan instead, a crinkled paper in his clenched fist.
My eyes land on the clock on the back wall, and that’s when I realize I’d been staring out the window lost in my thoughts for almost thirty minutes.
“Is she ready?” The eagerness in my voice is almost embarrassing, especially as I bounce on my toes. But I’m on edge envisioning what Tori looks like in her dress, the one that she’s been teasing me about for weeks.
Rhonan clears his throat. “Uh, Elliot…”
The clench of his jaw makes my pulse spike. I take a step toward him. “What’s going on, Rhonan?”
The heaviness of his sigh infiltrates the silence in the room. All I can hear is my pulse in my ears now, waiting for whatever comes next.
“Elliot…Tori is…gone.”
And with those four words, my entire world falls apart.
***
“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?”
Rhonan clears his throat. “She left, Elliot. She took off and…”
Shaking my head, I huff out a laugh. “No, you must be mistaken. Where’s Laney?” My hand moves for the doorknob, but Rhonan slides between me and the barricade separating me from finding my fiancée and proving my friend wrong.
His palm lands on my chest. “Elliot…”
“Why the fuck would she leave, Rhonan? We’re…” I huff out another laugh as my anxiety builds. “We’re getting married…” My hand swings toward the window I was just daydreaming out of. “We’re…”
“No, you’re not, Elliot. She left with her boss about an hour ago.” He hands me the paper clutched in his hand. “Now, just how well do you know her boss, Barry?”
The mention of the dipshit she calls a boss makes my blood pressure rise as my eyes scan the background check my friend took the liberty of running without my consent.
Tori’s boss has been the one issue we’ve gone back and forth on over the course of our relationship.
Her job with Barry Eggert Talent Agency in Nashville meant a lot to her, so I put up with the endless phone calls, late nights, and commuting back and forth between the two cities because I wanted to be supportive.
But now that nagging feeling comes back with a vengeance, and I’m wishing I wouldn’t have pushed it aside.
My stomach drops as my eyes scan the words proving my intuition was right, and I realize that if I’d just let Rhonan run a background check months ago like he asked, I wouldn’t be standing here right now in a tux with no bride.
He tried to convince me it was the smart choice, given our complicated history with Tori and what he sees every day as a sheriff.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?
Hell, even Dilynne—Henley’s younger sister and the biggest pain in my ass—turned out to be right.
Jesus, she’s never going to let me live this down.
“He…she…” The paper starts to shake in my grasp and the words in black ink become blurry. My eyes lock onto Rhonan’s. “Move.”
“Elliot…”
“I said fucking move, Rhonan!” I can faintly hear the windows rattle behind me from the volume of my voice, but I don’t care.
Rhonan’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine before he reluctantly slides out of my way, a defeated sigh leaving his lips.
I tear open the door and stomp down the hall to the bridal suite, where I’m hoping I’ll find my fiancée inside and this whole act Rhonan is putting on is just his idea of a joke.
But when I thrust the door open, the knob slamming into the wall behind it, the last thing I expected to see is my best man with his tongue down the throat of the maid of honor.
Laney and Fletcher?
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Lucky for me, Rhonan beats me to the punch. Seems he followed me. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Laney and Fletcher freeze, turning their heads slowly toward the door where we’re standing. I can feel the heat of Rhonan at my back, but we’re both motionless. Fletcher releases Laney from his grasp and moves to quickly adjust his shirt and coat.
“Rhonan…” Fletcher starts, but Rhonan cuts him off.
“What the fuck is this?” Rhonan waves his hand between them. “You and my sister?”
More anger builds in my chest because the last thing I imagined adding to the turmoil of the day would be finding one of my best friends sneaking around with another’s little sister.
I clench my fists at my sides as the reality dawns on me. “You broke the pact, man.”
The pact that we made in high school that nothing would ever come between us—me, Rhonan, Fletcher, and Henley—which included any feelings for sisters.
Guess that went to shit today too.
Fletcher takes a step toward us, his hands up in the air. “Listen, it’s not what it looks like…”
“Jesus Christ.” Henley, the fourth part of our friend group, appears behind us, pushing me and Rhonan into the room far enough that he can shut the door. “I guess we’re doing this now too.”
“Then what is it?” Rhonan asks. “Because to me it looks like you were about to fuck my sister in our family’s winery.
” His eyes move around the room as anger rolls off him, mixing with my own.
“God, I fucking knew it. That night with the popcorn cart…” Rhonan turns to his sister.
“I asked you if something was going on, and you lied to me.”
“I know—” She starts, but I cut her off before she can attempt to explain because the volcano boiling inside of me is about to erupt.
“You fucking violated bro code, Fletch.” My voice is low, almost void of any emotion, but the intensity in my body is saying otherwise. All I can feel is rage coursing through my veins, extending down each of my limbs and burning me from the inside out.
“This isn’t just some fling, okay?” Fletcher explains. “I’m in love with her.”
Laney gasps as Rhonan lunges forward. Henley takes a step in front of him, holding Rhonan back. Rhonan shoves him off. “Love? You don’t know the first thing about love!”
“You’re right. I don’t, but—”
That’s when I snap.
My laugh is maniacal. “Love? Love is a fucking joke!” I point a finger at Fletcher and that’s when pieces start snapping into place. “You lied to Rhonan! And you knew Tori was gone and didn’t fucking tell me!”
“That’s my fucking sister, asshole!” Rhonan shouts, stepping toward Fletcher to seek his own revenge.
Laney moves to stand in front of him, but she’s too slow.
Rhonan cocks his fist back and swings at Fletcher’s face, forcing Laney and Fletcher to both stumble back.
The sound of Rhonan’s fist connecting with Fletcher’s nose gives me the push I need to hit something—or someone—too.
“Rhonan!” Laney screams, but I rush toward Fletcher next.
“You motherfucker!” My fist collides with Fletcher’s ribs, causing him to fold in two.
“Easy there, buddy.” Henley pulls Rhonan back before he can get another swing in, but I stand back, heartbeat wild, my eyes dancing around the room as evidence of today mocks me from every corner—Tori’s clothes, her makeup, her jewelry, her robe, and the empty bag for her wedding dress—the fucking dress that she’s supposed to be wearing as she’s walking down the aisle toward me—but wore as she ran away from me instead.
And that’s the tipping point.
I see nothing but red.
I know there’s talking going on around me, but all I want to do is smash every memory of this woman from existence, to take out this anger on something else.
Because this pain? This is exactly why I should’ve stuck to my original plan—no marriage, no commitment, no risk.
My eyes land on Tori’s makeup bag sitting on the vanity, taunting me with its contents. Without a second of hesitation, I pick it up and throw it at the wall as pieces of shattered glass and plastic spray in every direction.
“Fucking bitch!” I roar, reaching for her bottle of perfume and smashing it to the ground as I hear Henley muttering behind me to Fletcher and Laney.
“You both need to fucking leave,” Henley barks out, shoving the two of them toward the door. I can feel Rhonan still in the room, but my focus is solely on destruction at this moment.
I don’t stop until my chest is heaving and everything around me is in pieces.
And somehow, I still feel like I’m the only thing in this room that’s actually destroyed.
The rest of the afternoon and night is a blur—people talking about me, right in front of me, but I’m fucking numb.
I don’t even remember how I got home.
But I do remember the next morning, when the last person I imagined would have sympathy for me was there in my house when I woke up. Dilynne Clark—Henley’s little sister and the biggest pain in my ass that has ever existed.