Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Nash
I dropped Cutler off with J.T. His parents, Jay and Susannah, had become good friends, and I trusted them immensely. Our boys were both only children, so they were more like brothers at this point.
I understood it.
My Ride or Die guys were my brothers.
I’d finished work earlier than usual, and I wasn’t used to having time on my hands.
All the guys were with their ladies tonight, and Hayes was at the firehouse.
So, I was on my own.
My phone rang, and I answered through my Bluetooth.
“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
“It’s good. I’m a little tired from being on the road, making the last of the deliveries for the week. But I’m heading home to crash. Just wanted to check on Cutler. The new asthma meds are working?”
My father had been a single dad, just like me. He’d worked hard his entire life as a truck driver, putting in long hours, and he’d been a tremendous role model. He and my mother had been ridiculously in love, and he’d never moved on after she’d passed away.
“Yeah. We haven’t had any issues. He had to use his inhaler at camp a few times this week, but as long as we stay on top of it, use the peak flow meter every day, and be proactive, it’s been going well.”
“Listen to you. You sound like a doctor.” He barked out a loud, weathered laugh. My father had smoked for as long as I could remember, and he had the husky voice to prove it. “Proud of you, son.”
That had a lump forming in my throat. We didn’t talk like that.
I knew he loved me. Never doubted it for a minute.
But he wasn’t the emotional type, and I think losing my mother the way he had made him guarded in a lot of ways.
I’d worked hard to tell Cutler every day how much I loved him.
He brought out a side of me that I hadn’t even known existed before he’d come into the world.
“Thanks. Just trying to keep up on all of it.”
“How are you going to handle Tara if she does show up in a few weeks? I never like it when she comes to town. It always has me a little anxious when she’s here.”
“Yeah. There’s a good chance she’ll flake on coming, but if she does, she never stays long.
I’ll let her spend a little time with Cutler, and she’ll be on her way for another year or two.
It’s the best I can hope for,” I said, as I pulled into my driveway, and a man standing on Emerson’s porch caught my attention.
“All right. Keep me posted. I just got home, and I’m going to crash for the rest of the night. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” I ended the call and climbed out of my truck.
Emerson had left the Fourth of July barbecue in the middle of the fireworks show last week, claiming she wasn’t feeling well.
I hadn’t seen her since, aside from a quick wave, and I got the feeling she was avoiding me.
We’d texted a few times, but it was just me checking on her and her checking on Cutler.
I got the message loud and clear.
She wasn’t interested in making things complicated between us.
It was probably for the better. Even if I’d fucked my fist too many times to count since the day she’d moved in next door to me.
I should be going out tonight to try to get laid because I was desperate for some sort of release that didn’t come from my own damn hand. Cutler was gone, and this was my window. But something had me walking toward the stranger standing on her porch.
Was this her ex?
“Hey. Are you looking for Emerson?” I asked, making my way up the three steps to her front door.
We were eye to eye. He was tall, just like me.
Dark hair. He wore jeans, a dress shirt, and a sports coat, but I didn’t miss the cowboy boots on his feet.
Sort of a mix of business and rancher. He didn’t exactly scream Stanford grad.
But I didn’t attend college, so who was I to know how a smart dude dressed?
He turned to face me and narrowed his gaze. “I am. And you must be the neighbor. Cutler’s dad, right? Is it Nash?”
She clearly talks to this dude often. I wanted to puff up my chest that she’d mentioned me, but then it hit me that maybe they were getting back together, and that’s why she’d been avoiding me.
“Yeah. Nash Heart. And you are?” I raised a brow, trying to tune out the ridiculously loud music coming from the house.
“Easton Chadwick. Emerson’s evil twin.” He offered me a hand, and relief flooded for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain. I had no claim over this girl.
I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. What’s going on in there?”
The windows rattled with the vibration of the loud music.
“Well, she didn’t go to work today, which is very uncharacteristic of my sister.
I’ve called her a dozen times, called her office, and they said Doc Dolby came in today to cover for her.
So I hopped on a helicopter and got my ass here because I was worried.
And now she’s not opening the door, and I’ve been banging on it for a good ten minutes. ”
“Wow. Must be nice to have access to jump on a helicopter with no notice.”
“Yeah. We’ve got a brother with more money than he knows what to do with. So he’s got all the toys, and he’s willing to share,” he said, but he knocked again and yelled her name.
“Do you think she’s sick?” It was impossible to hide my concern.
“Probably not with that blaring music. All her years in pediatrics, between rotations and residency, she rarely gets sick. Her immune system is rock fucking solid.”
All the blinds were pulled down, so we couldn’t see what was going on inside. “What’s with the music?”
He cleared his throat and shook his head before pounding on the door again. “Emerson’s got a slight obsession with Beyonce, and I do believe this is her new country song she’s playing. On repeat.”
“And you’re worried?” I asked, because the dude had hopped on a helicopter and flown here when she didn’t answer her phone. That seemed drastic, even for a concerned brother.
“Do you know what today is?” He turned to face me.
“Friday?”
He let out a long breath. “Today would have been Emerson’s rehearsal dinner, and tomorrow would have been her wedding day.
I talked to her last night, and she was fine.
But today, she’s gone radio silent. That isn’t like her.
My sister doesn’t do that, at least not to me.
Our parents are losing their shit and wanted to fly here, so I jumped in so I could see what was going on before all hell breaks loose at the Chadwick home. ”
Her fucking wedding day.
Now, I leaned forward and banged on the door.
“Should we break a window?” Easton asked, as he turned toward her flowerbeds, and I guessed he was looking for a rock.
“I’ve got a key, but I don’t know if we should use it.”
He whipped around. “You have a fucking key? Yes. We should definitely use it. She gave you a key?”
“No. The owners gave it to me. I’ve fixed things for them over the years when they’ve had issues.”
“Dude. I need to make sure she’s okay. Let’s just open the door and find out what the hell is going on.”
“It’s a key to the back door. Come on.” I hustled down the steps with him beside me, and we made our way around back. “You think she’s still heartbroken over the dude?”
He barked out a laugh. “Hell no. I never thought she was that happy with him, if I’m being honest. And after what that fuck face did, she despises the asshole. But she had a plan, you know, and it got blown to shit. And I think she’s more upset about Farah than Collin, which kind of says it all.”
“That’s her best friend?”
“Yeah, she’s a real piece of work, too,” he said when we paused at the back door. All the blinds were drawn on the back side of the house, too.
“You sure about this?” I asked one last time, and he nodded. I put the key in the door and pushed it open, and we both stood there, gaping at the scene before us.
Beyonce’s country song was blaring through her speaker, and Emerson was singing into a bottle of champagne. And that wasn’t even the part that had my eyes going wide.
It was the fact that she was wearing a wedding gown as she danced around the room, belting out lyrics that didn’t seem to go with the song.
Winnie didn’t move, she just lay on the couch with what looked like a wedding veil draped over her head.
There were cupcakes lining the kitchen counter, and a batter-filled mixing bowl beside them.
“Holy shit. This is… unexpected,” Easton said under his breath.
Neither of us spoke as we just took her in. Long brown waves fell down her back, and a satin gown hugged her curves down to her waist, where a full tulle skirt ran to the floor.
She didn’t notice us as she took a long pull from her champagne bottle before turning it back into a microphone and singing loudly.
“This ain’t Rosewood River. This is Magnolia Falls,” she sang over hysterical laughter.
The words did not go with the beat at all, but then she’d throw in a few, “ohhhhh, ohhhhhh, let’s move to the right” before talking about someone not being an asshole and throwing their cards down.
Her words were slurring, and she was cute as hell.
My chest squeezed as she spun around, lifting that full skirt and showing off her cowboy boots beneath her dress.
This city girl is all country.
Then she shouted with the music. “This ain’t Rosewood River. This is Magnolia Falls, so hit the road, asshole.”
The words certainly weren’t the lyrics from the song, though she appeared to try to match Beyonce’s rhythm.
And I didn’t give a fuck. I was too busy staring at the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
Emerson Chadwick might be a little bit broken, but she was strong and fierce in every way.
She whipped around, her hair flying all around her, and her eyes widened when she took us in. A big smile spread across her face. “What do you know…? It’s two of my favorite guys.”
“Damn. How’d you get up there with me already?” Her brother chuckled and moved toward the speaker and turned the volume down. “Hey, Emmy, how you doing?”