Page 11 of Starting Over with You (Beer League Belles #2)

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Kenni

I’m so lost in the theme song of my trip and my own brain that I almost miss the two hooligans hanging off the Thistlebrook town sign.

Missy is shaking a bottle of champagne, which explodes everywhere, and Sadie is holding a huge boombox over her head as she pelvic-thrusts like one of those Instagram thirst traps.

Laughter bubbles out of me when I see they’re wearing their shirts we made when they were sixteen and I was fourteen.

We tie-dyed a few of Sadie’s brother’s white tees then painted them with puff paint, SI on the front.

Since neither of them has the body they had when we were younger, Missy’s shirt is basically a crop top, and Sadie’s shoulders are cut out to give her boobs some room to breathe.

They look like Bigfoot’s drunk sisters.

But they’re mine.

I pull over instantly and hop out just as Kelsea Ballerini starts the chorus to “If You Go Down.”

Tears burn my eyes just as a shirt is thrown in my face. Before I can even pull it off, two sets of arms wrap around me, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I squeeze them both just as tight.

A sob bubbles out of me, and I swear they squeeze me tighter.

I feel each of their hands move into mine where the scar of our “blood” sisters’ oath sits, and the peace I was looking for slides into place.

I remember when we’d pick at the scabs on our palms just to make sure we scarred.

I smile against someone’s face at the memory of how pissed Sadie’s brother would get when he’d find me bleeding.

He’d fuss and clean the wound, only for me to pick at it again to make sure that my palm would forever be marked.

Or maybe I did it because I loved how dark his hazel-blue eyes would get as he’d scold me.

It was only ever me, never Missy or Sadie. He was wildly protective of me.

I always held the guys I dated to his standard.

I knew what it felt and looked like to be cared for, and while I had wished it were Dean Moore doing the caring for me, he’d never looked at me as more than a little sister.

Stratford always said he thought Dean was in love with me, but he couldn’t have been.

I think he felt that he had to watch out for me because of how much Sadie and Missy loved me.

I mean, he had a baby with Missy. I was obviously never on his radar.

But that night in the back of the cop car lives rent-free in my head when I’m lonely. When he almost kissed me without the demands of our sisters.

Darlin’.

I pull back to find Missy and Sadie crying just like me.

Missy reaches for me first, cupping my face and running her thumbs along my full cheeks.

Like me, she has the brightest blue eyes, but her hair is more of a dark brown than almost black like mine.

She has a more angular face and a sharper nose that doesn’t tip up at the end like mine.

Her lips are fuller, and her face is covered with freckles.

Not just along her nose and cheeks like me, but all over her face.

She has always hated that my lashes are longer and thicker than hers, while I’ve always been jealous of the natural arch in her brows.

My sister has always been beautiful, but there is something about the laugh lines, and the crinkle of skin around her eyes, that makes her even more stunning.

“There she is,” she mutters, kissing my cheek.

She goes to ask something, but Sadie grabs me next, looking me over like I just got home from war. Which, I guess, in a way, I have—battling for myself in the trenches.

Sadie’s hazel eyes are lighter today, more blue than green, but I know when she gets mad, they’ll be darker.

Her wild mane of curly brown hair is up in a crazy topknot, and like Missy, she has the perfect brows.

They went to Knoxville to get them microbladed without me.

Assholes. Sadie’s cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are misty with tears that haven’t fallen.

She used to have really bad acne, so she has deep scarring along her face.

When we were younger, you wouldn’t catch her without makeup.

But ever since Matt came into her life, she owns who she is, which, to me, is the most beautiful person in the world.

Though, I can’t help but see Dean when I look at her.

They have the same eyes, long lashes, and thick, dark hair.

I wonder how he is.

Sadie squeezes my face, her eyes searching mine. A tear spills over her cheek as her voice breaks a bit. “I am so proud of you.”

Another sob bubbles out of me as I nod. “Me too.”

She kisses me smack-dab on the lips, and I laugh as she hugs me tightly.

Missy wraps herself around my side, and once more, our hands join like they did when we were younger.

We hug for another few moments before Missy hands over the bottle of champagne to me, and I take a long sip.

Cars pass by as I take off my shirt and squeeze into my old SI tee.

It’s tight along my boobs and every bit of my stretch marks is showing, but I don’t care.

I’m home.

Missy pulls out a pair of scissors before cutting my jeans to give me cutoffs like theirs.

I only laugh as I continue to swig my champagne.

We sing along loudly as cars pass and probably wonder what the hell we’re doing.

Thankfully, Missy doesn’t cut my jeans too high, and I’m glad I shaved before I came.

When she’s happy with her work, she throws everything into the front seat of my car, then takes my hand.

“How did Stratfuck react when you handed him the papers?” Sadie asks as we head to their car. Sadie has a habit of turning people’s names into a joke when she doesn’t like them. I don’t know how she keeps up, but each one makes me chuckle.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Like a total jackass. He had the audacity to ask me to wait a year.”

Sadie’s eyes widen. “He didn’t.”

“He did,” I say and tell them the whole story.

They listen intently as Sadie grabs a bag, then locks the door.

It isn’t until we’re on the trail that I finish, “He said I made him feel like he was suffocating ’cause I took all the air out of the room.

I don’t even understand. I feel like I always made myself small for him. ”

Missy shakes her head. “No, he just wanted an excuse to justify his wrongdoing. It’s easier to blame you than take ownership.”

“And so what if you did? That’s the whole point. He liked you because you were wild.” Sadie kicks a rock. “That’s why I love Matt so much. He’s never tried to change me or tell me I’m too much. He loves me for who I am.”

I smile sweetly at her, squeezing her hand. “Matt is goals.”

“Totally,” Missy agrees. “Nyle is great and he does like that I’m a little wild, but I do think his biggest hang-up is Dean and Skyye.”

Sadie’s eyes narrow. “I’ll kill him dead.”

Missy waves her off, but even I’m about to promise the same. “No, he loves Skyye—he does—but I think he’s intimidated by Dean.”

“As he should be,” Sadie says simply. “Dean’s the best dude ever.”

Missy doesn’t disagree. “Absolutely, but Nyle always asks me if I have feelings for Dean, and I don’t get it.”

“You had a kid with him,” I remind her. “It’s pretty easy to see why someone would assume y’all have something.”

Missy snorts. “Yeah, we had too many shots and a faulty condom. ”

I bark out a laugh as Sadie grimaces. “Out of all the guys in town, you had to get knocked up by my brother.”

I mean, at least she said it.

Missy gives her a look. “Excuse you. I gave you Skyye—you’re fucking welcome.”

True.

Sadie grins. “You’re right, my bad.”

We all giggle as the warm Tennessee air heats my skin.

I have missed this place—the sun, the smells of the forest, and the sounds of nature.

Wisconsin is stunning, but there is something about the mountains of Tennessee.

I tip my face to the sky, loving how the sun peeks through the limbs of trees and the rays warm my face.

When Missy told me that Dean knocked her up, I remember being devastated.

It was wildly inappropriate since I was married, but I didn’t want Missy with Dean.

It would have been different if it were someone else, just not my sister.

I’d thought she was in love with him, but since the beginning, Missy has been up front.

She never saw him as more than a friend.

Not that it matters. I’m sure he hasn’t even thought about me.

But sometimes I like to imagine what would have happened if we had actually gotten to kiss in the back of that cop car.

I smile to myself, but then my smile falls when the local landscape comes into view.

The hills of Tennessee are a sight to behold.

There are songs written about how beautiful this place is.

From where we stand, which I realized halfway here is one of our favorite outlooks, you can see the three crosses on the side of the mountain where a little old church sits.

The trees look like waves tumbling along the mountains, and the air is so crisp.

Hot, but crisp.

Missy opens her bag and pulls out three white plates. I furrow my brows when she hands me one and a marker. She does the same to Sadie, and then she sits down with hers. I follow suit as she explains, “Write down everything you want to let go.”

“Let go? ”

Sadie nods, tapping my plate with her marker. “You could write Stratfuck a million times if you like.”

I snort at her as she winks, and then I look down at my plate.

I do write Stratford’s name.

Then I write each year that he had of me, not including any years after I found out about the affair.

I write down the moments I made myself small for him.

The moments he made me cry.

The day I found out he had another family.

I almost write her name and his other children’s, but that feels wrong. While she may have known about me, she’s just as much of a victim as I am.

Then I write down yesterday’s date but make a note not to include the amazing accomplishment of Ash and Flint graduating.

It takes me longer to finish, but when I do, Sadie hands me a clear trash bag for the plate. Together, we stand, and then Missy grins as she jerks her chin to the rock. “Let’s smash it, ladies.”

I take the top of the bag and, with my sisters, bang the plates into the rocks. The pieces shatter, and as I watch them almost turn to dust from how hard I’m slamming the bag, I feel the pieces of my own soul come back together.

Tears flood my eyes as I turn to look out at the view, letting the bag drop from my fingers. I inhale deeply as I gaze into the stunning world before me, everything so lush and perfect, making me feel like I’m standing on top of the world.

I am free.

Sadie moves her hand into mine as Missy squeezes my other, and I don’t even recognize my voice when I ask, “Am I crazy for being thankful it all happened?” I’m met with silence, both their gazes on my face as they watch the tears spill down my cheeks.

When they don’t answer, I continue. “I hate him for what he did to me, but I’m happy with how it ended.

I stood my ground, I protected my boys and set them up for life.

Yeah, it was at the cost of years of my life and happiness, but I still have my boys, and I have tomorrow to make it whatever I want it to be. ”

“You have us,” Sadie adds.

“And you’re not crazy. You’re incredible,” Missy tells me, her voice thick with emotion. “And he didn’t deserve you.”

People always assume it was hard not having a mom growing up, but I didn’t need one, not when I had Missy and Sadie.

Sadie lets go of my hand and slaps hers together, the echo getting lost in the trees and valley before she yells, “Now, let’s go party!”