Page 31

I didn’t stop walking until I reached the furthest edge of the venue—a little outdoor bar tucked under an overhang of twinkling lights.

I wasn’t sure if it was open or just abandoned, but the bottles were still lined up neatly on the shelves like they were waiting for me.

I grabbed a tumbler and poured myself two fingers of whiskey, neat.

My tie was already loose. My pulse hadn’t been right since Ella said maybe we’d rushed it.

God, that hurt more than any hit I’d ever taken on a field. I leaned on the bar, drink in hand, staring at the distant trees like they might offer a solution. Thorne growled low and slow inside me. She didn’t mean it.

You don’t know that.

I know her. You’re just being soft and self-pitying.

“Thanks for the support,” I muttered aloud.

I’m a bear. Not a therapist. But even I know you’re not supposed to let your mate cry alone on her wedding night.

“Didn’t expect to find you sulking out here.” A familiar voice behind me interrupted my heart-to-heart with my bear. Gabe stood a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a beer. His tie was gone, his hair messy, and he was trying, way too hard, for a neutral expression.

“What do you want?” I asked tiredly.

“Beer. And maybe to make sure you didn’t wander into the woods to be eaten by a moose.”

I sighed and turned back to my glass. “I’m fine.”

“You’re at a bar,” he said, “alone. On your wedding night. ”

I didn’t answer.

Gabe came closer and leaned against the bar beside me. For a long moment, we just stood there—like two ghosts haunting a party we weren’t invited to. Finally, I commented, "Well, you don't look all that happy either."

He sat down next to me. "Yeah, but it's not my wedding night."

Surprised at the tone in his voice, I looked up. It suggested… regret? "You almost sound like you wish it were."

"Would that be so strange? You're not the only romantic in the family," he brushed his hand through his unruly hair.

I arched an eyebrow, "Romance? You? You've been living the dream we both had since we were kids and chasing tail all over the United States."

"Not by choice…" he trailed off. Something was different about him. Something that didn't add up with all the parties he had been attending over the years, or all the pretty girls hanging off his arms.

"What are you talking about?"

"I messed up," he confided, getting up and pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Silence enveloped us. My curiosity was aroused, but I knew better than to press him. Over the past ten years, we hadn't spoken much.

“We used to talk all the time,” I said finally.

Gabe glanced at me. “Yeah. When we were kids.”

That made me think. He was right. For some reason, I had associated our silence with my injury, but now, thinking about it, I realized it had been longer. “I thought… I thought it was the accident that tore us apart."

He frowned. “You thought I bailed because of your legs?”

I shrugged. “You disappeared. You got drafted. I was in rehab. I figured…”

He shook his head. “Jesus, Pat. No. That’s not it.”

I studied his face. “So what was it?”

Gabe swallowed the contents of his whiskey glass. “Carol.”

I blinked. That was the last thing I had expected. “What?”

“I thought you two would end up together. You were close. Everyone said so. And I…” he trailed off, then let out a harsh breath. “I’ve always known she was mine. My mate. I felt it. But I didn’t want to stand in the way of whatever was happening between you two. So I stepped back.”

Thorne huffed. That makes two of us. I figured we were just down one brother. Glad to know it was over a girl. Less tragic.

“You’re not helping,” I whispered under my breath.

You’re not asking me to.

I stared at my brother, stunned. “You thought I was in love with Carol?”

“You weren’t?”

“No! I mean—not like that. Carol’s… Carol. She’s like a sister.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Well, that's just great. Cheers.”

He raised his glass and drank it dry before pouring another, nodding at me in question, and I held mine up for him to refill in answer. "I think I need a bit more of an explanation here."

He sighed, "I imprinted on her the first time I saw her. Admittedly, I was five and didn’t understand what the hell I was feeling, but that's why… it doesn’t matter. She hates me anyway."

“She doesn’t hate you,” I muttered. “She just… wants to set you on fire most days.”

He raised a brow. “That’s comforting.”

I sipped my drink and shook my head. “All this time, I thought you stopped talking to me because I was broken.”

“You were never broken,” Gabe said. “You were just quiet. And I didn’t know how to be loud for both of us.”

We sat there a minute longer, the air between us slowly starting to thaw.

Then he asked, casually, “So why are you out here? You and Ella get in a fight?”

I let out a breath. “Yeah.”

He nodded. “What about?”

“Her mom and our dad… closet.” I stopped myself.

"Wait." He made the sign for time out. "Her mom and our dad? Closet?"

I chuckled because, honestly, the entire situation was just ridiculous. "Yeah, Lisa and Henry were fucking in the coat closet, and we caught them."

"Well," he rubbed his chin, refilled his glass, and smirked. "Good for Dad."

I laughed, "At least someone got laid on my wedding night."

"What happened? Between you and Ella?"

"I didn't handle the situation well," I admitted, still feeling some anger, but more pain. Pain over her saying our marriage might have been a mistake.

“You mean you were you.”

I shot him a look.

He held up a hand. “I’m not judging. You’re the still-lake-to-my-hurricane type. But Ella? She’s lightning in a glass bottle. You don’t put a lid on that. You let it strike.”

“She told me I didn’t feel anything.”

“Then she’s an idiot,” Gabe said. “But you’re a bigger one for letting her believe it.”

That hit harder than I expected.

“You think she’ll forgive me?” I asked quietly.

“I think,” Gabe said, finishing his whiskey and setting the glass down, “you need to stop sitting out here stewing and go home and grovel. Start there.”

I hesitated.

He added, “You waited ten years for her. Don’t blow it now because you can’t stand being uncomfortable .”

He was right. I pushed her away once. Now she was doing the same thing.

Maybe not on purpose, but I knew her and her insecurities, and I knew she didn't handle unpredictability very well.

If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I wouldn't allow her to push me away like I had her and wait ten more years.

We would clear this up tonight. Neither of us said anything unforgivable; we could still work things out.

I would grovel, just like Gabe told me. I would do anything for this woman.

Thorne rumbled with satisfaction . Finally. Took you long enough .

“What, no advice on how to grovel?”

Just show up. Smell like regret. Bring snacks, he snarked.

I made my way up toward the cabin where Ella and I were supposed to—where we would —spend our wedding night.

Nobody could have been more surprised than I was when Ella came walking down the path toward me.

Even in the dim moonlight, I could see that she had been crying, and my heart cracked. I had done this. To her. Again.

You're an idiot , Thorne advised. Step aside and let me handle this .

"Ella," I called, ignoring Thorne.

When I called her, she looked up, her face filled with hope, and then we were flying toward each other. I hadn't run this fast since I got hurt. She crashed into my arms like a tornado, and I wrapped them around her, determined never to let her go again.

"I'm sorry," we said simultaneously. Then we stared at each other and laughed.

"You were right, and I was an idiot," she said hastily, as if she were afraid I would say something first. "And I didn't mean what I said. I really didn't. I'm so happy to be Mrs. McCloud and?—"

I didn't let her finish. I sealed her lips with mine and kissed her with the hunger of a man who had just gotten married to the girl of his dreams.

"I'm sorry," I said when we came up for air. "I didn't handle the situation right either. I will talk to my dad, this?—"

She pressed her finger to my lips and shook her head. "No, whatever is going on between the two of them, that's their business, not ours."

I smiled at her, "My wise wife."

"You don't know the half of it yet." She grinned, taking my hand, but I shook it loose and instead pulled her up in my arms to carry her to the cabin we had rented for the next few days, set on finally starting our honeymoon and then the rest of our lives together.

Whatever it took, I would show this woman how much I loved her.