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REX

I foundDonny on a bench overlooking the vineyard, his knee bouncing up and down as he kneaded his hands like they ached. He looked up when I dropped down beside him, then turned to stare at the vines again. In the distance, dust kicked up on the dirt road leading down the back of the property. A convoy of vans carrying supplies for the wedding approached.

Behind us, through the tall double doors that led inside the building, the clatter of chairs and tables and decorations being set up reached us in a steady thrum. A tree fluttered in the breeze to our left, one leaf detaching and spinning to the ground. The air was still warm, and the skies were clear.

It was a beautiful autumn day to get married.

“You good?” I asked.

“I can’t do it,” Donny blurted. “I can’t marry her.”

“Whoa,” I said.

“It’s the videos and the content and the fakeness, Rex. I can’t go through with it.” He shoved his hands through his hairand tugged, groaning. “I read my vows again this morning and they don’t even sound like me.”

“Okay,” I started, going into crisis mode. “At least you’re realizing this now, before the wedding happens. That’s good, right?”

“No!” Donny exclaimed. “Before, I didn’t know any better. Now I do, but I can’t call it off. Look at this!” He extended his hand toward the vines.

On the far side, a cop car came screaming down the dirt path, lights flashing and siren blaring. It screeched to a halt, and two officers got out. From the middle of a row of vines, two teenage girls stood up and screamed, then took off at a run.

I recognized Bryce’s nasally voice as he yelled at them to freeze. The teenage girls screamed again.

“This whole thing has gone too far,” Donny said, dismayed. “Blair is gonna kill me if I call it off.”

“Yeah, she will. But this is your life. If you don’t want to get married, you shouldn’t go through with it.”

“I have to,” he pressed.

“Youdon’t.” If our parents hadn’t gotten married, we wouldn’t exist—but we wouldn’t have had to endure the tension-filled childhood, the hair-trigger temper of our father, the fights, the silent resentment. If Donny went through with this, there was a good chance he'd repeat the same cycle. “You’re Donny Montgomery. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The cops got back in the police car, and on the loudspeaker, Bryce warned, “All intruders will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

“Oh my God,” someone said behind us, and I looked behind meto see one of the bridesmaids, the dark-haired one, with her phone out and pointed at me and Donny. Her eyes were wide, and then she swung the phone around to film the police car speeding around the vineyard.

Donny jumped up. “Tammy. Are you filming us?”

“Blair is going to freak when she sees this,” she said, then took off.

“Fuck!” Donny yelled, sprinting after her. “Tammy, get back here!”

“Donny!” I started after him, but a car came crunching on the gravel toward me.

“Freeze, Montgomery,” Bryce Lawson said through the car’s megaphone.

I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. “Really, Bryce?”

“I’m going to need to see your admission wristband,” the megaphone commanded, and then Bryce rolled down his window. “We’re checking everyone. The security they hired is useless, and we’ve already caught three groups trespassing."

“I’m the groom’s brother and the best man,” I said, exasperated.

“That may be so, but I still need to see your wristband.”

“Give me a break, Lawson.” Every guest and staff member had been issued a wristband to be allowed on the property. Mine was stuffed in my tuxedo jacket pocket upstairs in the room where I’d dumped my things when I first got here, because I’d needed to carry some supplies inside and I hadn’t wanted it to get damaged.

“You can put that bracelet on your wrist, or I’ll slap this one on,” he said, spinning his handcuffs around his index finger. He wiggled his white-blond eyebrowsat me, smirking. Dick.

“I left it upstairs,” I said, sighing. “Is this really necessary?”