Devious Wingman: A Cocky Hero Club Novel

by Hagen, Casey

  He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my hand. “Always.”

  With a hop in my step I hadn’t felt since Arizona, I winked. “I’m going to hop in the shower. I’ve got a wedding to wrangle.”

  29

  44 Sycamore Lane.

  I shifted my truck into park and turned off the engine. Flexing my shaking hands on the wheel, I stared straight ahead while my knee bounced with a tsunami of nerves boiling in my stomach.

  Sun filtered down through the trees lining each side of the street, the limbs heavy and arching toward the center of the narrow road. The houses hadn’t changed much. Two doors down, the once-red house was now dark blue. The faded Snoopy mailbox with the nose snapped off a couple houses down on the other side had finally been replaced by brushed copper.

  Subtle, but disorienting, I shifted my focus to the familiar—the white VW bug still sitting on blocks waiting for its owner to one day have time to restore it to its glory.

  Okay, so my trip down memory lane was really next level procrastination on my part.

  I’d managed to shed the fear I’d harbored all this time of old memories to now have an overwhelming sense of dread fill me at the possibility of rejection.

  Emory said they missed me, but hell, you could miss someone you never wanted to see again.

  Missing someone didn’t mean forgiveness. It didn’t mean acceptance.

  It didn’t mean I wouldn’t have to answer for myself.

  What about after? Who would I turn into once I saw them again? I’d only just begun coming around to the idea of this guy, the one who for the first time since Ethan died finally slept straight through the night.

  I’d be okay. I knew I’d be okay in whatever iteration of me I evolved to. Hawk and Penn stood by me while I turned the clothes leftover from that night into nothing more than a pile of ash.

  And they stayed by my side for the two days after.

  After losing Ethan, I went into the academy as a misfit. While there, I’d found two more. They hadn’t left my side since and I was too busy looking backward to see what I had ahead of me in their friendships. I’m lucky they waited me out.

  I should have trusted them more.

  Trusted myself more.

  I would get there.

  Stripping myself bare and revealing every truth I hid stole the power from my past, from my mistakes, and left me with a clean slate of sorts.

  I gave myself a future.

  What kind, well, a lot depended on this…and Emory.

  I didn’t look across the street. Not yet. Instead, I climbed out of my car and rounded to the passenger side. Leaning back against the fender, I finally faced the only safe place I’d ever known.

  I’d left a part of myself here and I could feel it now, the connection vibrating to life.

  For the first time ever, the ties didn’t feel born of desperation and despair.

  The trees once reaching up to the second-story windows now shot clean over the roof. The shrubs once brushing our knees as we cut the corner when we hauled ass around the side of the house, now crowded the picture window filling in the empty space once existing between them.

  And the basketball hoop.

  Faded from the years in the sun, but it still stood solid in the ground where Mr. Brooks had cemented it on the edge of the asphalt driveway. The net bore the years of weather and use, the once white nylon now gray and turning black at the knots.

  The front door opened and I froze. My breath lodged in my chest and my heart shot into my throat. Nerves skittered over my skin, sinking deep, meeting the chaos brewing inside.

  Mr. Brooks stepped out, and God—I’d never realized how much Ethan moved like him. The set of his shoulders, the swing of his arms—it was a tiny glimpse into what it would have been like to see Ethan at the same age.

  The image knocked a ragged breath out of my lungs.

  He reached back and took Mrs. Brooks’ hand as she joined him and pulled the door shut behind her.

  After all these years, everything they’d lost, everything I thought I took from them, they still stood unified, the very picture of best friends.

  Threaded with more gray, Mrs. Brooks’ hair stopped above her shoulders now. Their movements were a bit more cautious as they walked down the steps instead of jogging down them like they used to, but the love…the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was looking, it remained there between them, untouched.

  Witnessing their connection when they had no clue I stood here watching did more to reassure me than any words could have coming from their mouths. Their genuine affection wasn’t a show put on for others; it came to them as natural as breathing.

  In this moment—I realized just how much of an ass I’d been. Everyone I thought I had destroyed, the ruin I thought I left behind, it never really existed anywhere but inside me.

  I wanted to live in this picture.

  With them.

  With Emory.

  Leaning into one another, lost in conversation, they made their way down the walk.

  I didn’t know what to do. Keep looking at them, look away, speak up, put my hands in my pockets, play it cool—Christ, it was like being a teenager all over again, a period in my life I’d gladly never revisit.

  I adjusted my hat right as Mrs. Brooks glanced up, her gaze landing right on me, pinning me in place.

  Her mouth fell open. The blood drained completely from her face, leaving her ashen, and the tears…so many tears. They freely rolled down her face, disappearing under the curve of her chin.

  My throat thickened so damn tight. I didn’t know how to love people the right way. I wished I did. Because I wanted to love these people the way they deserved, the way they’d always loved me.

  It took her three seconds to reach me where I stood shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Reaching over my shoulders, she wrapped those arms around me so tight a long sigh of relief made its way past my closed throat.

  I didn’t remember how to hug like this. How to give in to the moment and feelings coursing through me. The idea of hugging her back spiked my fear of rejection.

  “You’ve come home,” she whispered, her throat thick with watery tears as she hugged me tighter and curled her face into my neck and took a deep breath.

  Her soft words broke through the last of my awkwardness and I slumped against her, my arms banding around her ribs so hard I thought I might crush her. My forehead fell to her narrow shoulder and I curled into her, letting her warmth find the cold places hovering inside me.

  Burying my face in the crook of her neck, my eyes burned as I held on—I expected crushing guilt—I found complete acceptance.

  She reluctantly pulled away but never took her hands off me. She went full-on mother mode and ran her fingertips over my arms, my shoulders, and cupped my face, giving me a watery smile, her face decorated with a few more lines than it had been a decade before, and every one of them so damn breathtaking because she stood here, alive, well, and smiling.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said as her eyes roamed over my face.

  Smiling, I took her hands in mine and surprised myself by kissing the inside of her palm. Where did I even learn to do that?

  Mr. Brooks stepped up and grabbed me in a hard hug. “You finally done fighting those demons, son?” he asked while letting me go.

  I took a shuddering breath, held on to the hand Mrs. Brooks slid into mine as he let go, and met his eyes. “Yeah, I think I am.”

  “About time, come on, let’s get a beer,” Mike said, turning toward the house.

  That was it.

  No long talk.

  No admonishment.

  No questions.

  I needed them to ask questions.

  I’d prepared for questions.

  Or maybe I needed to purge.

  It couldn’t be this easy. I couldn’t just walk into their house again as though nothing ever happened.

  My life had never been easy so naturally I didn’t trust
easy now.

  “I’m in love with your daughter,” I blurted. No finesse at all. Verbal diarrhea right there on the street.

  They looked at one another, a whole silent conversation unfolding in their eyes before they turned their gazes back to me.

  Mrs. Brooks’ lips twitched, and she tugged my hand. “We know.”

  I skidded to a stop midstep at her words.

  We know.

  No indication of their feelings, only—acceptance.

  Questions blazed through my head in rapid-fire succession. Did they talk to Emory since Arizona? Had they seen her? Did they know where she was?

  Jesus, was she here?

  “But how?” I could have picked any of the questions shooting through my head, but nope, I grabbed that dumbass gem and tossed it out there.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Mr. Brooks said with a laugh as he turned to me. “Almost from the first moment you stepped in this house you picked her. And she picked you right back. Anyone could see it.”

  “We weren’t fooling around under your roof,” I blurted again.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  And it was a bold-faced lie.

  Shit.

  “Well, there was the night—” I cleared my throat and glanced away. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

  Mike cocked his head, his fatherly eyebrow raised. “If you’re bringing it up, I think maybe it does.”

  I followed them onto the sidewalk in front of their house and stopped. “It was the night of the accident. The guy Emory went out with that night—he put his hands on her. She tried to call Ethan, but we were at a party and he didn’t hear his phone. So she called me.”

  Hands on his hips, Mr. Brooks squinted against the sun, his head tilted as he searched my face. “I’m listening.”

  I glanced at Mrs. Brooks, a frown tugging at my mouth. “When I brought Emory home, things went too far.”

  “How far is too far?” Mr. Brooks asked.

  I cleared my throat and fought the urge to shuffle under Mr. Brooks’ stare. “Way too far for a man just shy of twenty-two years old and a sixteen-year-old girl.”

  “Was it the only time?”

  “Under your roof?”

  Mr. Brooks yanked his head back. “Well, I guess that answers my question.”

  “That night was the more serious time, but it didn’t get to the point you think. The details are Emory’s to tell, if she wants to…I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have by sharing the details that aren't entirely mine to share.”

  “I can respect that,” Mr. Brooks said, leading the way inside the house.

  I followed them, hesitating for a minute at the door. The shift from being consistently dissatisfied, the edge of anger never far away, to this new uncertainty left my stomach hollow and my gaze darting through the living room, looking for the familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

  The hunter-green love seat Emory stretched out on and threw popcorn at us through family movie night had been replaced by a charcoal-gray sectional. The trove of pictures on the wall had been pulled down, but for a few here and there, but the one on the mantle delivered another blow to the resolve I’d been clinging to so hard.

  Ethan and I standing in our uniforms so many years ago. The old me in the picture…he thought the bad times were behind him. He’d escaped his abusive beginnings and found a family who loved him.

  A family he could love back.

  A brief moment in time where I no longer carried the weight of anger, hatred, and resentment in my eyes.

  Not realizing I’d carry them all again so soon.

  A glimmer of a time when I’d maybe resembled a man worthy of Emory’s love.

  Ethan and I would never be that again… I winced at the stab of pain pulsing in me. Gripping the edge of the mantle, I drank in every last detail. Ethan had the hardest damn time holding back his smile. Like Emory, full of life and laughter, Ethan attracted everything in his orbit. You could see it in the way people walking by watched him.

  He’d given me so many moments.

  Why me?

  Out of any of the people he could have let into his orbit, why me?

  “My boys,” Mrs. Brooks said, a soft smile spreading across her face.

  “I’m not sure I’ve earned the status.”

  She shrugged. “I am.”

  “I was there the night of Ethan’s accident,” I said, the words refusing to stay buried anymore.

  “We know,” she whispered, her clear knowing gaze meeting mine before glancing back at the picture.

  “No,” I said, my voice rough as I pushed my confession past the ache in my throat. “I was the first on the scene of his accident.”

  Mr. Brooks laid his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “We know,” he said quietly.

  “But how—”

  “The police report confirmed it, but we didn’t need it. We took one look at you and recognized the trauma, the pain carved into your every expression,” Mr. Brooks said.

  “You were hurting so much,” Mrs. Brooks said, cupping my chin and turning my face to her. Her chin wobbled with the tears she held back. “For yourself and us. But the guilt you’d wrapped yourself in, there was no way we were going to break through. The hardest thing we ever did was let you walk away. We’d already lost one son. We let you go, praying every single day you’d come home.”

  “You took longer than even we thought you would,” Mr. Brooks said with a gruff laugh. “But our girl, she’s a force.”

  “Have you ever seen her in action?” I asked, turning to look at the picture of her next to us on the mantle. “People just—I don’t know how to describe it—they gravitate to her. Her laugh, the way she smiles with her whole heart, everything she touches she leaves better than before. Even me, I guess.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it.

  “Sounds like you should stop hesitating and do something about that before somebody else does,” Mr. Brooks said.

  “I don’t know what kind of husband I could possibly be. Or father. I just know…I couldn’t imagine being either with anyone but her.”

  “Oh, I think you know more than you realize,” Mrs. Brooks said, motherly confidence coloring her voice. “You know what not to do and that’s a hell of a start.”

  “True.” My phone buzzed again. “Excuse me, I need to check this.”

  “Go ahead,” Mrs. Brooks said.

  “Hawk, what’s up?” I said, not sure what to make of him calling me twice in as many minutes.

  “Graham and Soraya need us to get them to Bar Harbor first thing in the morning. There was a fire at Graham’s cousin’s condo. Nothing too serious, but the cousin is getting married soon, and the wedding is going sideways so they want to get up there and help get it back on track. I know you were going to be gone for the night and knowing where you are I hate to—”

  “It’s fine. I’m in. Any chance Emory will be with them?”

  “She’s flying commercial.”

  “Dammit, why does she keep doing that?”

  Hawk laughed. “It must be your charming personality. Sends them running to coach every time. You should get some help for that.”

  Yeah, he’d heard that particular piece of advice a time or two. I glanced at Emory’s parents and smiled. “I’m working on it. Think we can snag an invite to the wedding? I’d need to score a plus two.”

  30

  Weddings naturally brought chaos.

  Every last one—no couple escaped.

  But Cole and Casper chaos...well, at this point nothing could surprise me short of one of them having a secret family no one knows about walking into the ceremony itself.

  If some crazy family member wanted to bust in all gangbusters with a betta tank tucked under their arm, well, I’d gag them and find a place for the fish without even batting an eye.

  Casper recovered from being shot while freaking pregnant.

  Check.

  Totally happened and now mom and babi
es were absolutely fine.

  Dresses gone wrong.

  Check.

  And we pretty much saw the writing on the wall with the gowns from the onset. I’d already sent a text to my secret dress weapon and warned him I might need him in the near future.

  Their missing wedding planner.

  Check.

  She was going to be just fine, but handling a wedding with two broken legs from a car accident? I’m a go-getter and all and fully support pushing through, but sometimes, you had to admit defeat.

  A double-booking at The Bar Harbor Inn.

  Check.

  Okay, this one couldn’t be helped, but…I put some feelers out, pulled on a few local heartstrings, and when The Bar Harbor Club happened to have an event fall through, they sprang into action with all hands on deck to make Casper and Cole’s wedding so spectacular it wiped away the mountain of problems.

  A fire in their condo displacing them two weeks before the wedding.

  Check.

  A fire is a fire…I’m not a magician. Much to my disappointment.

  Maid of honor stabbed the night before the wedding.

  Check.

  This was where I wobbled. Sure, I didn’t know she’d been stabbed at that point. No one did. We only knew Ridley, the maid of honor, hadn’t shown for the rehearsal dinner; no one had heard from her, and no one could reach her on her phone.

  I waited until all was quiet, excused myself to tour the grounds and check on things, and for the first time in a decade, I prayed.

  I prayed for their maid of honor, for them, for those babies Casper carried, for peace to settle over them, and finally, I prayed I’d done enough, been enough so the first thing they remembered when they looked back on their day was the beauty, magic, and love surrounding them as they made their final promise to one another.

  I didn’t doubt for a minute they’d last. If they could handle this onslaught and still turn to each other, they could handle anything coming in the future.

  Standing at the water’s edge, I’d watched the first sunset since my last night in Arizona. I tried to quiet my mind, but God, the feelings brewing in me wanted to break free, run rampant, and crush skyscrapers to dust.