Chapter 2
Dilynne
Stepping Up and In
“Jesus Christ, Elliot. How many baked goods does one man need?” Huffing out a breath, my eyes scour the shelves filled with cookies, pastries, and a half-eaten tray of cake.
I knew that Elliot had a sweet tooth, but not to this extent.
It looks like he went around the bakery section of the grocery store and picked up one of each type of confection they had, then rummaged through them all like the Hungry Caterpillar.
I shut the cupboard to his pantry and then move to the fridge in search of actual food. I was supposed to be enjoying a filet mignon with garlic roasted mashed potatoes tonight, but since the wedding never happened, neither did my highly anticipated meal.
Elliot Thorne, one-fourth of my brother’s friend group, was left at the altar about three hours ago now, and I’m the lucky person that was put on babysitting duty after he drank almost an entire bottle of Jack Daniels, once he was done destroying the bridal suite at Hart Winery.
I won’t say this out loud, but part of me was relieved that Tori, his fiancée, walked out.
My position has nothing to do with any unrequited feelings for the groom, just so we’re clear.
No. It has everything to do with my intuition hinting that Tori was hiding something from all of us.
Tori Michaels was a horrible human being when we were all in high school together years ago, and when Elliot brought her back into our friend group six months ago, I got the feeling she hadn’t changed much.
Turns out, my instincts were spot-on. Especially after I saw her kissing her boss and fleeing the winery with him, leaving Elliot caught off guard and turning to alcohol to process the life-altering event. What kind of person does that kind of thing?
I glance back down the hallway to Elliot’s room, debating if I should go check on him.
Looking after someone who drank their body weight in whiskey isn’t one of my many talents, but it was the most logical way for me to assist our group tonight since everything blew up in a cluster fuck and my brother and his friends all scattered in the aftermath.
Now, I’m in Elliot Thorne’s house, wondering what the hell I was thinking agreeing to be his babysitter for the evening, especially since he has very little food in his kitchen besides baked goods.
Fletcher Adams—one of the guys—and Laney Hart, my best friend, bolted after the truth came out that they’ve been fucking in secret. But not before Elliot and Laney’s older brother, Rhonan, took it out on Fletcher’s face.
Rhonan had to be contained by his father so he wouldn’t try to fight Fletcher again, and then once he was composed, helped his dad and the crew at the winery disassemble the wedding décor before going home to his daughter.
Poor Ellis. She was so sad she didn’t get to throw flower petals down the aisle. She had been practicing being the flower girl for weeks.
And then my older brother, Henley, was so busy making sure caterers were paid and calming down Elliot’s parents that it only left one person to deal with the jilted groom—me.
“Tori?” Elliot’s groggy voice calls from down the hall.
“Shit,” I mutter, holding up the bottom of my black silk dress as I race down the hallway, finding Elliot sitting up in his bed.
“Dilynne?” He glances up at me, his thick, dark hair in disarray and his words slurred. “Wh—what are you doing here?”
“Elliot, you need to lie down.”
He moves to take off his shirt, pausing when he realizes he has to undo the buttons. Groaning, he falls back. “Where is Tori? Wh—where is my fiancée?”
I move toward him, lifting his legs onto the bed so he can slide back into a horizontal position. “She’s not here, Elliot.”
“Fuck!” he shouts, pushing my arms away. “Get off of me!”
“Elliot…”
“She left! She fucking left…” His muffled words die off as his eyes close and he passes out once more.
Sighing, I leave the room again. When I make it back to the open concept living area and kitchen, I stand there, my hands on my hips, surveying Elliot’s home while I consider my next move.
I don’t think I’ve ever been in this house.
The man and I don’t exactly get along, so it’s not like I expected an invitation for tea and crumpets.
But standing here, seeing his space and the touches that Tori has left behind—throw pillows on the couch, picture frames showcasing the evolution of their relationship, and a few candles on the tables—it makes my anger and confusion about how we all got here grow even stronger.
I pick up the phone to call my best friend.
“Dilynne?” Laney answers after the first ring.
“Hey. How are you?”
She blows out a shaky breath. “I’m…okay, I guess. Still processing.”
“I just wanted to check in on you.” Tucking my leg under my ass, I take a seat on Elliot’s couch. “Make sure you and Fletcher are lying low until things die down.”
“This entire day was insane.”
I blow out a breath. “I know. Is Fletcher okay?”
“He has a black eye and a bruised rib or two, but he’ll be all right.”
“All of the boys kind of went crazy, huh?” Glancing out the front window of Elliot’s living room, I watch dusk take over the sky.
“Yeah. How’s Elliot?”
My eyes drift back toward his room. “Well, he just woke up completely disoriented asking for Tori, so…” I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “You do the math.”
“He’s going to get through this, right?”
“Only time will tell. But I have a feeling if he wakes up tomorrow and sees me here, he’s going to be even more pissed.”
“Maybe Henley can switch places with you.”
“Yeah, I think it might be for the best. The last person he’s going to want to see when he sobers up is me.”
Laney grows quiet for a beat. “You know, on second thought, you might be the best person right now, Dil.”
“Did you get hit in the head at some point in all of the scuffling today?” I ask her, mildly confused by her suggestion.
“No. But come on, Dilynne. You’re no stranger to heartbreak.”
Laney’s words make that familiar pang of anger and hurt radiate in the center of my chest. “That may be true, but you and I both know the last person Elliot would want help from is me. Especially since I’m the one who tried to warn him that Tori was the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Then don’t let him tell you no.”
I huff out a laugh. “Normally, I would fight him on anything, Laney. But this? How am I supposed to hold back from telling him I told you so? That I always knew Tori was a two-faced bitch and he should have listened to me?”
“You don’t tell him that, Dilynne. You just help him heal. The boys are going to show up for him in a different way than you can. Because Tori didn’t just leave him, she betrayed him. And you’re the only person I know who shares that experience.”
Laney is the only person who truly knows how devastated I was after I broke up with my ex, so I understand what she’s trying to say.
But this is me and Elliot.
We’re about as compatible as oil and water.
Elliot’s groans filter down the hall, and even though I really hate my best friend right now, I can’t deny that she has a point. Even though Elliot and I barely tolerate each other on a good day, I can admit that he doesn’t deserve what Tori did to him.
And I’ll never say this to his face, but he’s still a part of our family—our friend group, the kids that took me and my brother under their wings when we moved to Blossom Peak and got placed with our foster parents.
We look after each other. We show up when shit hits the fan.
We may fight and bicker, but at the end of the day, we lean on and support each other when we can’t stand on our own.
“Just think about it,” Laney continues, cutting through my thoughts.
“Tori?” Elliot calls out again.
“I will. I’ve gotta go, Laney.”
“All right. Call me tomorrow and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” she says before I end the call and run back down the hall, just in time to watch Elliot vomit all over the floor beside his bed.
“Jesus Christ, Thorne. You owe me big time after this,” I mutter before rolling my eyes and going off in search of something to clean up his mess.
But Laney is right. I do understand what he’s going through, so maybe it’s time I put the past behind me and step in so that Elliot isn’t alone.
Because the guys aren’t going to be able to help him in the way he’s going to need.
Men are too dense to understand the stages of grief and betrayal.
But women? We’re born with the capacity to heal and plot revenge simultaneously.
It’s a gift, really. And we’re not afraid to face our feelings head-on or conquer our demons when our strength and sanity depend on it.
I just hope my murderous tendencies toward this man can stay dormant in the process of helping him, or it might make the animosity between us even worse—because helping Elliot Thorne might be the right thing to do, but it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.