Broken and Beautiful

by Ryan, Kendall

  “We’ll get chocolate later.”

  We only have a few weeks until I start medical school this fall, so we’re making the most of it—riding horses around the ranch, leaving for local fairs and cultural festivals. It’s like we’re both determined to make up for all the time we waited to be together.

  This morning he woke me up with something new: a surprise.

  Knowing Sutton, it could literally be anything.

  We pull to a stop on my regular street corner, and my pulse speeds up. How many nights did I stand on that corner, hugging the lamppost, trying to gather the nerve to get a customer? I’d have thought the years would make it easier, but shame sinks in my stomach.

  He mutters another curse.

  I stare at the two square yards of concrete. I can already see every crack in my mind. Every uneven place in the bricks of the building. Every rut in the street. This place is more familiar to me than anything I know now—my dorm room, the university. No matter how much time has passed, this corner’s emblazoned in my mind.

  I’m trembling by the time Sutton opens my car door.

  He pulls me to standing. “Should we get out of here?”

  “No,” I say stubbornly. “Not until I get my surprise.”

  His blue eyes are tender. “You know I love you.”

  “You know I love you, too.”

  He pulls me forward and then steps out of the way, revealing the sugar factory. I have every inch of that place mapped out as well, the window I hopped through, the fire escape I climbed. I could sketch the inside as quickly as I can sketch the human heart.

  Except none of it’s there anymore.

  The building has been restored, the exterior fixed and the brick lightened. Yellow light presses against the windows. Smoke curls from somewhere at the top of the building. A sign over the front door reads, Safe Haven.

  As if in a trance I move toward the entrance, Sutton following behind.

  A plaque marks the front entrance, with the following verse:

  The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

  But I have promises to keep.

  I take a shuddering breath to fortify miles. I have miles to go before I sleep.

  The door has a very serious-looking lock on it, with a note. This is a home for women, LGBTQ, and at-risk populations. You are safe here. A little lower, it continues, Many of our guests are victims of sexual assault, domestic violence, human trafficking, and other trauma. Visitors must be approved by the administration and submit to a background check.

  And at the end, This premises is protected by Blue Security.

  I look back at Sutton—shocked, honored, overwhelmed. “You did this?”

  “I had to do something. You were going to be a doctor and save the world. I figured I could be responsible for saving this corner. You were my first guest.”

  “Ky was,” I say, my eyes wet with tears.

  “Ky helped me,” he admits. “Along with Hannah, Blue’s wife. A lot of people pitched in. Mostly what I did was knock down walls and then rebuild them.”

  “I can’t believe he knew about it and didn’t tell me.”

  “He was sworn to secrecy. And he said if you knew about it, you’d insist on helping. I couldn’t have seen you without needing you. It was bad enough knowing you were somewhere in the city, and that if I only looked you up, only called, I could have found you.”

  I run to him and throw my arms around him. He catches me in a secure grip, twirling me around on this street corner. It used to mean sadness and pain, being here. Hunger. And that persistent cold of winter that never really goes away. Now it’s a place of hope.

  “I love you,” I say. “Love you, love you, love you.”

  I press mad kisses across his eyebrows, his cheeks, his chin. I feel a little wild with how much I love this man, but he returns the sentiment without missing a beat, pressing me against the wall, breathing me in, and kissing my neck, biting gently and then soothing with his tongue.

  A car passes by on the street and honks. I jump apart from him like a guilty teenager. He pulls back more slowly, his blue eyes laughing. “If I had known you’d react like this, I’d have brought you here a long time ago?”

  “You built me a castle in the sky.” I rest my head on his chest, feeling the safety and surety of his arms. The truth is I was safe from the moment he first kissed me against the wall, even if I didn’t know it. That’s Sutton. Kind and generous. And loving.

  My hand rests on his shoulder, the sapphires sparkling around the diamond.

  “You were never for sale, you know that, right?” he murmurs in my ear.

  “I know,” I murmur. “I was just waiting for you.”

  Epilogue

  Sutton

  I wondered why unconventional, defiant Harper had wanted a wedding in a grand church. What I didn’t understand is that when you get married, you want the weight of thousands of years of tradition to protect your love. The commitment, that comes from inside you. It’s the rest of the world that bears witness.

  Our wedding happens in the holiest place I know of—on the wide-open tract of land with my name on the deed. My name, along with Ashleigh’s name. Two hundred acres are more than our home. They’re our domain. I’m the king of this earth, these trees, that sky. And she’s my queen. Small, as kingdoms go—but big enough to build a lifetime together.

  Christopher comes to stand beside me. “Mrs. Cheung would lose her shit.”

  I have my foot on the fence, arm slung over the wood. The rough grain probably mars the silk and the wool, but I can’t be bothered to move. “Good thing she’s not here.”

  “You nervous?”

  The same question I asked him. The same answer. “No.”

  “You haven’t known her that long.”

  A smile curves my lips. Harper has really changed Christopher. Or maybe it’s the twins. Either way the man I knew five years ago wouldn’t have made a joke. “I’ve waited too damn long already.”

  I glance back at the house. White curtains ruffle against the window. I’m not the one having doubts, but maybe she is. She’s still young, after all. There’s medical school and then residency. And then an entire lifetime. Maybe she doesn’t want a washed-up cowboy for a husband.

  “She’s coming,” Christopher says, reading my damn mind.

  “I’m going to check on her.”

  He puts a hand on my arm. “Give her time.”

  I glare at him. “You’re making me wait because Harper asked for me.”

  Before their wedding, Harper wanted to talk to me, to make sure I was okay with their marriage. I wasn’t really, not at the time. Now I see that they’re right for each other. What kind of bastard gets in the way of true love? Christopher gives me a slight smile. “Maybe I should go check on her.”

  And see her in her wedding dress? “No.”

  “Turnabout’s fair play.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He puts a hand to his heart in mock injury. “You don’t trust me?”

  “Not as far as I can throw you or your hotels.”

  “Of course you should marry him,” he says in a pretend-stern voice. “He’s nice and rich and good with dogs and children. It’s too bad he’s shit at poker.”

  “Fuck you.” I land a solid punch to his arm, and he recoils, scowling. That’s about how well I play poker: terribly. I can fight or play or work, but I can’t bluff worth a damn.

  “I suppose now’s a good time to bring up that contract.”

  I slide him a sideways glance. “Told you my terms.”

  “And I gave you a counteroffer.”

  “You forgot how shitty I am at poker. Take it or leave it.”

  “I didn’t forget.” He leans on the gate in a parallel position. “That’s why there’s a signed contract sitting on your desk, waiting for when you’re back from your honeymoon.”

  I glance at him sharply. We were business partners once. Before we became lovers and then enemies. For the past five year
s we’ve been friends. This would be a change, but a welcome one. I hated that wedge between us. “Thank you.”

  “You should thank me. That was a damn hard bargain you drove.”

  “Some games you don’t have to bluff to win.”

  “Is that Southern boy wisdom?” he says with a sardonic tone.

  I narrow my eyes and glance at my watch. It’s twenty minutes past the start time of the wedding. “Have you been distracting me? On fucking purpose?”

  “Don’t look so nervous. She’s coming.”

  Twenty minutes late to her own wedding. I look at the open window again, where a white curtain waves gently in the wind. Does she need my help? Is she having second thoughts? It’s not a small thing, marriage. I should give her all the time in the world, but I’m too impatient for that. I want her to be mine, before God, beneath the open sky, on this land that we own.

  I want her right goddamn now.

  * * *

  Ashleigh

  I can’t wait.

  I’ve been awake since 5 a.m., a bundle of excitement, counting down the hours until I could get married to the man I love. I’m already in my white undergarments—a corset, along with stockings and a garter belt. The summer air is too sticky to put on my dress until the moment I go downstairs. There’s a textbook open on the desk where I’ve been attempting to pass the time.

  A quick knock on the door, and Ky peeks his head in. I gasp and cover myself with the heavy book. “Give a girl some warning here.”

  He grins and strolls into the room.

  “You don’t have the parts I’m interested in, but if I were straight, I’d be all over that. You look like a goddamn cake.”

  I slap him on the arm. “Gee, thanks.”

  Penny follows him inside, holding a black velvet box. “Something for the bride. I heard you needed something blue, so I had this made for you.”

  A blush covers my cheeks. “Ky was supposed to get a ribbon or something.”

  “Close,” Ky says, nudging me toward the box.

  It feels strange to be standing in a room with two fully clothed people, but there’s a lot about being a bride that’s strange. I think this whole day will feel surreal. It definitely feels surreal as I open the box to reveal a sparkling garter belt. Thick plush lace serves as the base for an elaborate construction of diamonds and sapphires. “Oh my God,” I breathe. “I can’t—I can’t wear this. Or accept it. This is too much.”

  Penny and Ky exchange a look as if my response doesn’t surprise them. Penny and I have become close over the past few years, exchanging long emails. Which means I know her well enough to know that these aren’t fake gems. This will be the real thing.

  “It must be worth a fortune,” I say with dismay.

  “It’s my gift to you,” Penny says gently.

  I make a face. “So there’s nothing in that giant pile of white and silver presents from you?”

  “It’s not my only gift to you,” she says. “But you’re my good friend. If there’s one day a girl deserves to be spoiled, it’s her wedding day.”

  Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them back. “I don’t deserve to be spoiled.”

  A palm on the middle of my back. Ky. A soft touch to the back of my hand. Penny. Friends when I thought I’d spend the rest of my short life alone. Some days I can take everything in stride—graduating from college, living on the ranch. Even signing the deed with Sutton and his lawyer didn’t make me lose it. But this… this garter. This ridiculous, over-the-top, incredible garter will be the death of me. A sob breaks free, and I know I’ll ruin my makeup. It’s too late. The sorrow and the guilt and the shame wrap around me. No matter how much I distract myself, they never truly leave. “Oh God,” I say, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Penny wraps me in a tight hug. “I feel awful. I thought it would be—no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. It was a mistake. I’ll take it back.”

  “You can’t have it back,” I say on a watery laugh. “It’s mine now.”

  She gives a relieved smile. “There’s my girl.”

  “Actually,” Ky says from behind me. “Sutton will have to take it off in front of everyone and throw it to someone. I’m planning on catching it, so I’d appreciate a nice underhand in my direction.”

  Streaks of mascara line my hands. “Ugh, I must look terrible.”

  Penny guides me to the chair. “You look absolutely beautiful, but unless I want Sutton to go full protective caveman, we’re going to have to wipe away the evidence of these tears.”

  She goes to work wiping off my old makeup while Ky puts the garter belt on me. “I’m sorry I freaked out,” I say, feeling sheepish now that I have my emotions under control. “I guess I’m a little on edge today.”

  “Of course you are,” Penny says.

  Ky sighs. “It’s hard to let go of the past shit. It rears its ugly head whenever I least expect it, which means of course it would show up for you today. I’m like hey, look, I’m happy. Then the past is like, remember this super depressing thing?”

  There’s a clench in my stomach, the place that always turns into a knot when I think of those years ago. My therapist says it’s better to let the feelings run through me than shove them down deep. I’m still working on that. “I’m just grateful I have both of you to help me through it.”

  “And that you have Ky to do your makeup. No one does cat eyeliner like me.”

  I glance at the clock, worried. “I’m going to be late for my own wedding.”

  “You can’t be late for your own wedding,” Penny says prosaically. “What are they going to do? You’re the bride. It starts whenever you walk in.”

  * * *

  Sutton

  It takes the combined efforts of Christopher, Hugo, and Blue to keep me from going upstairs in my own goddamn house. The guests don’t mind the extra wait. There’s plenty of fresh lemonade, some of it spiked with vodka, to keep them entertained. The children run around getting grass stains on their little dresses and suits. I’m the only one who’s ready to break down a goddamn wall. I must have pushed her too far, too fast. The need to see her, talk to her, hold her makes me shake as I grip the walls of the corral.

  The soft strains of the string quartet waft over the warm air, and I snap my gaze to them. Sure enough, everyone’s finding their seats. The pastor has taken his place at the head of the aisle. His gaze is understanding as I head in his direction. There’s nothing graceful or charming left in me now. I feel like a predator who’s starving for the sight of her.

  Christopher joins me at the makeshift flower-covered altar. “Try not to look like you’re going to kill someone,” he mutters to me.

  I growl something profane in response.

  The quartet shifts to the wedding march, and I’m arrested by the sight of Ashleigh in the doorframe. She’s wearing a simple white dress that seems to flow around her in an ethereal light. Her hair’s in gorgeous curls cascading down her shoulders and breasts. A bouquet of cream roses and lush greenery is tied with twine.

  Part of me knows that she’s the perfect picture of romantic femininity, but the baser part of me, the animal inside, thinks she’s a goddamn wet dream. I want to lift the silk skirts and taste her. I want to spread her wide on the altar and eat her pussy in front of everyone.

  A discreet clearing of the throat from Christopher snaps me back to reality.

  Probably I won’t eat her pussy in front of everyone. No fucking promises though, as she glides toward me like a goddess. I count every inch between us, every second it takes to close the distance, every breath I take where I’m apart from her.

  Penny walks in front of her down the aisle. Ky walks at her side, but I only have eyes for my bride. My bride. The words ring like a bell inside me, loud and meaningful.

  When she gets close, I see the faint pink in her eyes, the slight puffiness underneath that even expert makeup can’t completely hide. I know every hill and valley of her bo
dy, every flavor of her skin, so I can see it even if everyone else cannot.

  Worry rises inside me, along with a much safer feeling—anger. Someone hurt her. “What’s wrong?” I say under my breath as the pastor begins to speak of unions.

  “Nothing. I got a little…” A whisper laugh, self-deprecating.

  “Did Ky say something stupid?” And then I voice my deeper fear. “Are you worried about the wedding? We don’t have to do it now. Fuck everyone.”

  The pastor raises an eyebrow at the word fuck. He’s the only one close enough to hear. That’s one benefit of having two hundred acres. Even for this small ceremony, we could spread out.

  “God,” she says, looking appalled. Then her eyes turn tender, almost water-bright. “No, I don’t want to wait. I love you, Sutton Mayfair. Marry me.”

  It’s coming to the part where we speak, but I can’t go through without knowing. “Then tell me what happened. Tell me what you need.” My stomach gives a kick. “Tell me why you cried.”

  “Because I thought I would never get married. There was a time I thought I wouldn’t live past the age of eighteen. And here I am—because of you, Sutton. Everything I am, because of you. How can I start a marriage knowing that? How can we ever be partners with that much debt?”

  I give a low sound of dissent. Of disbelief. “You’re not in my debt, sweet thing. I thought I couldn’t love before you, not truly, not deep. I thought I couldn’t be loved.”

  “Oh, Sutton,” she whispers.

  “I was half sure you would have moved on by the time I went to you, that you would have some young asshole frat boy next to you, and that I’d have to smile and say congratulations and tell you I was happy for you. And the worst part is I would have been. I’d have been happy for you, even if I would have been absolutely miserable.”

  Her eyes are filled with tears, and now I know who made her cry: me. I did.

  “The couple has chosen their own union vows,” the pastor says.

  I turn to face her and take her hand. A box appears in front of me, and I take out the plain wedding band. On the inside it’s engraved with the words lovely, dark, and deep.