Page 40

Seth speeds off into the night, making the short drive down the dirt path that connects the Marshall farmstead to the Mayberry Manor, but my pulse won’t slow.

My whole body is vibrating with anger, shame, confusion and hatred at myself with nowhere for it to go.

I need to ride something. I need my horses, the only thing that has ever grounded me, but I haven’t had the time to get them yet.

Haven’t had a break from work and preparing for this goddamn wedding to do it. ?

I claw at my collar then end up ripping off my shirt, the buttons shoot off like tiny little bullets and splay across the golf cart floor and onto the ground underneath the wheels before I toss the fabric off the side of the cart.

The second we pull in front of the house, I’m jumping out of the cart, stomping through the front door and heading straight for the kitchen.

I need a drink. A real one. Something to take the edge off this pain.

I yank open the liquor cabinet and grab the first bottle of whiskey I can find.

The cap twists off with a quick flick and clatters against the counter just as Seth storms in behind me, his face tight with worry.

I hate that I’m the reason he looks like that—but right now, I don’t care.

I don’t care about anything except finding a way to shut it all off, to keep myself from going back there and doing something I can’t undo.

Something that would make sure my father never hurts another person again.

“Hayes wait—”

I don’t let him finish. I tip the bottle back and take a long, burning gulp.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he pleads with me.

I pour a glass full then down it in one, long pull. The burn barely registers in my stomach. My body vibrates with the need for more.

“Dammit!” I shout, thinking about the look on Regan’s face when she saw me.

I need to erase everything that happened.

Redo this entire night so that I can go back to when she looked at me like I was everything and not some sick monster sent to destroy her heart.

I reel back my arm and then slam the empty glass against the wall, watching it shatter into a hundred tiny fragments all over the floor.

Then I take the bottle straight to my lips and chug like it’s the only thing keeping me standing.

“Hayes, you’re not him. Don’t be this guy. This is what dad would do, drown himself in alcohol and then take it out on other people.”

I glare at him over the top of the glass, but I don’t stop.

Not until Seth’s eyes widen in fear as he watches me almost finish off the handle, then lunges towards me, tackling me to the ground.

The whiskey bottle slips from my grip, crashing against the floor and I land on it awkwardly, slicing open my hand in a way I know I’m going to pay for during my next shift.

“Cut it out, man!” His arms lock around me in a crushing hold but I’m bigger and stronger than him. I fight back. “Please, don’t do this,” he pleads.

But it’s too late. The damage is done. Easily ten shots deep, plus the beer from earlier—I’m drowning, but I don’t feel numb enough.

I need something more to drag the last of me out of here.

He showed up, ruined my day, then had me ruin Regan’s too.

It’s fucking unforgivable and he’s right, I’m just like him.

Maybe I don’t share his DNA, but I sure as shit got something from him.

The front door to the home suddenly flies open and Seth and I both jerk our heads up from the floor to see who it is.

Regan’s standing in the doorway, still in her wedding gown, looking at us in complete shock.

It’s exactly what I need to push me over the edge.

To remind me that I’m nothing and never will be anything despite all my accomplishments, because all I do is hurt the women in my life.

Her eyes widen as she scans the wreckage of our home—broken glass, spilled liquor, me pinned to the floor like a caged animal, hand bleeding on the new flooring her and Colt just installed. The edges of my vision blur, but I don’t miss the sharp authority in her voice.

“Everyone, get the hell out! Right now!”

Molly and Rae hover behind her in the doorway, uncertainty painting their features. “Regan, we should stay. We can help—”

“No.” Her voice leaves no room for argument and her gaze never leaves mine. “I’ll handle this.”

Seth’s arm drops from around my shoulders as they nod and quietly step out. He stands, shoots me one last disappointed look, then follows them out, closing the door behind him, leaving just me and my bride behind.

I scramble to stand, slicing my other hand open on a piece of glass and cursing the entire way. I barely register the pain because all I see is her watching me, her face painted in something worse than fear: Disappointment.

What I’ve always been to the people who I’ve loved the most.

Fuck .

I did this. I ruined her night. I hurt her. Just like I hurt my father. Just like he hurt me.

Fists instead of words.

Violence instead of control.

I am him. Maybe not by blood if what he said is true, but in every other way that fucking matters. In the ways that she needs me to be, I’m him. Incapable of being a good father or husband. Bent to only hurt her.

“I need space.” My voice is raw as I say the words, standing in front of her, blood dripping from my hands, because I need her to leave before I make things worse between us. Before I make this so bad that she moves out tomorrow and mails me the divorce paperwork.

Regan steps closer despite my request, her hand lifting to my chin with a gentleness that shocks me to my core.

I catch her wrist, my bleeding fingers staining her skin before I drop it like she burns. Like I burn. The last thing she needs is my blood on her or her pretty, white dress. Maybe she’ll be able to wear it to her real wedding someday. The next one that doesn’t involve me.

“Give me space, Regan. Please.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone. Talk to me, Hayes.”

“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “Then I’ll leave.” I step towards the door needing to get away from her presence. Those eyes full of pity and way too much concern and compassion that I don’t deserve.

She gasps. “Hayes, you can’t drive. You’re drunk.”

Fuck.

“Regan.” I look at her, then really study her and see all the pain that I’ve caused worn across her pretty face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” But there’s tears in her eyes like maybe she doesn’t believe that either and fuck it, I know better. I already have. I am right now. And I will again until I drive her away or worse.

“I can’t guarantee that.”

Her breath shudders. “Hayes, please don’t do this.”

“Just give me a minute. Some space. A night.”

She studies me, searching, before nodding slowly. “Okay… I’ll go to my dad’s. Just let me grab some clothes. You can stay here.”

I watch her disappear upstairs, my chest caving in on itself. A minute later, she’s back with a small bag in hand. Her eyes plead with mine one last time. “Please let me stay. Let me be here for you.”

I shake my head, slumping against the counter. Because I can’t . I need to handle this on my own. Just like how I’ve done my whole life.

Her lips press together. “Okay,” she whispers. Then she steps closer and kisses my cheek—soft, hesitant, like she’s afraid I’ll break apart if she lingers there for too long. “I’ll be here tomorrow for you, and we can talk, okay?”

I swallow and nod, not meeting her eye. “Okay.”

The door shuts behind her, and the silence that it leaves feels deafening. I let out a shaky breath and stomp toward the fridge, yanking out the tequila I’d stashed there for nights like this. I stare at it, temptation curling tight in my gut.

But Seth, Regan and everyone else is right.

I don’t want to be like him, even if I am.

And after forty years of fighting it, I refuse to give in anymore.

Instead, I collapse onto the couch. And for the first time in decades, probably since I was a fucking kid, I break without caring how messy it feels.

Tears come, ugly and raw, choking out of me.

I thought I had worked through this shit.

Thought I had processed my mom leaving me, the disappointment that always lingered in my dad’s gaze, the years of never being enough for him when I tried so hard as a kid and the shame I felt never being wanted.

But now I realize that maybe I never did.

Maybe I’ve never made peace with this part of my story.

My mind spins, regret and rage clawing at my ribs.

I’ve fucked things up with Regan unbelievably.

And all I want—all I need—is to fix it. To fix this shit with her before she slips too far away from me.

To explain to her everything about my past and all my fears for the future.

Maybe she’ll see me as more than what my dad says I am, and we can get through this.

Perhaps there’s a future that doesn’t include me being alone.

I push to my feet, staggering toward the door, already thinking of calling Seth to see if he can come pick me up. Maybe he can drive me to see her. Maybe I can get to her before she—

But the front door swings open before I can open it, revealing Scarlett. Her face is pale, her expression wrong . Panic bleeds from her eyes as she takes my appearance in.

My stomach drops. “What’s wrong?”

Tears slip down her cheeks. “Hayes… there was an accident.” Her voice wobbles, breaking on the words. “Right out on the road. Regan—she was hit.” A sharp inhale. “Someone from the wedding was leaving. She’s at the hospital.”

The floor vanishes beneath me and everything stops.