“See you on the trail.” He hopped out of bed and dashed to the bathroom before things got carried away. Slipping on his running shorts and shoes, he was out of there before she could retaliate.
Sophie made good time; they crossed at about their usual spot at his favorite lookout. He should stop there more often. Maybe they could have one of her favored picnics there one of these days. Or even set up camp.
They didn’t stop to talk, as was their routine. Instead, they flashed each other a satisfied grin and kept on their way. Today, he made it back first.
After a quick shower, he threw on some cargo shorts and a NAVY t-shirt per his usual. Bringing their coffees out to the deck, he only had to wait a few minutes before she came out the sliding glass door.
“Morning,” she greeted with a contented smile. They sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying the peace of the morning.
Neither said anything about last night. Not yet. They’d hashed and rehashed the nuances of their situation more than either cared to. Both hated keeping secrets, but both knew Pippa would be thrilled once she understood they were in it for good.
He sort of assumed Sophie was in it for the long haul. She was, wasn’t she? It would be a painful, sweet revenge against him if Pippa’s friend dumped him and left him broken hearted this time. Rubbing a gnawing ache under his sternum, he tried to shake off his self-doubt.
Finally, he remembered the awful run-in with her aunt to give him something else to focus on. “I know you want to deal with it yourself, but do you mind if I speak with Larson about your aunt?”
Poor timing, as usual. If he’d thought before speaking, he might have realized the topic was a bad choice. Foot in mouth, as usual.
She adjusted in her seat, her spine ramrod straight. “I don’t want to involve anyone else in this just yet.”
Crap. He didn’t want Yvette to get ahead of them and ruin Sophie’s chances of success in her new venture. Mostly for her, knowing how much she was hanging her dreams on this opportunity. But he didn’t deny the not-so-small amount of selfishness he felt in her settling in locally.
If she left Foothills, he didn’t know what he’d do. If she’d let him follow. He didn’t tend to plan ahead well, but damn, when he found what he wanted, he didn’t hesitate. He knew. And he knew Sophie was his future.
“I get that, I really do. I don’t trust that woman.”
Sophie drained the last of her coffee with swift finality and stood from the chair. “Neither do I, but I’m not giving her the satisfaction. I’m sick of defending myself, of suffering her lies. If she tries anything, I’m facing it head-on.”
Knowing when to pick his moments, he bit his cheek before he said anything to upset her any more than he already had. “Okay.” She headed for the door while he remained glued to his chair, feeling absurdly helpless. “Sophie… if you need anything, I’m here. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”
She offered him with a glum smile. “I know.”
“Really. I know you hate asking, but I’m in this with you.” If only he could tell her just how much he had her back. Not yet; not when she was turning inward. He was terrified that she’d disconnect further.
Hesitating, but otherwise not acknowledging, she left him alone on the blindingly sundrenched deck.
Angry at himself and his poor timing, he stalked into the kitchen and made a quick piece of toast. Impatient, he snatched the barely warm piece of floppy whole wheat from the toaster and stuffed the dry bread in his mouth on his way to the garage. If he just had the right words, the right approach, maybe he could make this a little easier on Sophie. Her aunt would inevitably make her life a living hell for years to come, as she’d done since Sophie was just a kid.
Waiting for the painfully slow rise of the garage door, listening to the familiar clanking of the metal gears, he stared at his truck as it came into view. The engine had been running oddly yesterday, occasionally missing. Worse than usual. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure it out. Since he’d been back from that awful last deployment and the engine quit the first time, he’d poured weeks of repairs into the damn thing, but every time he managed to get something fixed, something else went wrong.
Sliding beneath the engine, then looking from up top, fiddling with every bolt and cap, then inspecting even the damn axels and tires, he couldn’t find anything wrong. Couldn’t come up with anything that might be nonfunctional. Connections were secure, nothing rusted through, nothing leaking.
He hopped in the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. It fired up no problem. Okay. It’s okay.
Just when he was about to shut it down, he heard the sound again. Not exactly missing, more like a systemic weakness. The rumbling started to slow.
Gently pushing on the gas, he managed to bring a little life to the engine. Removing his foot again, it slowed again. Again, it revved a little with a little gas, but not as strong this time. Fucking death rattle.
Revving the engine with the pedal pushed to the floor, he poured all of his hopes and frustration into the dying engine. Not now, dammit. Not one more loss.
Screaming, the engine tried to cooperate with the influx of fuel. With a final, pathetic puff of black smoke from the exhaust, the engine slowed and came to a quiet stop. He turned the key again. Nothing. No activity.
A fierce growl rose from deep under his diaphragm, filling his chest, his arms, with fury. Desperate, helpless, that energy funneled into his fists and he slammed into the dash, the steering wheel, again and again, until his knuckles bled.
Leaning forward, his forehead met the steering wheel and stayed. An aching, burning sob rose from his chest.
The passenger door opened. Glancing to the side, his forehead glued to the wheel, he saw Sophie sliding in through his glassy vision.
Not wanting her to see his loss of control, his voice barely above a whisper, he pleaded, “Let me be, okay?”
Hand on the door handle to leave, she nodded. “Okay. I’m here if you need anything.”
He knew she got it; he just couldn’t even say it to himself yet.
“Let me know if you want me to call anyone, you know, a mechanic or a tow or anything, okay?” Her voice was so gentle, so caring, with an understanding of loss and pain better than anyone.
“I don’t need a fucking tow truck. It’s going to be fine. I just need to see what’s wrong.” The snap came out of nowhere. What sort of monster yelled at someone like that? Someone he cared about? That was just trying to help?
Her face darkened with something he couldn’t read. Now he felt like an asshole. Voice soft, kinder than he deserved, she said, “Okay. I’ll be inside if you need anything.”
***
Sunset came later than usual. Not actually, but it sure seemed to. Dinner had been long and painful, awkward. Most wouldn’t have noticed the black pall that clogged the air, but the silence between Sophie and Asher was palpably thick.
After a tasteless dinner filled with Pippa’s frantic worries about centerpieces and playlists, Sophie’s brain was numb. She’d gone out to the garage to apologize for her closing off before. Yvette tended to have that effect on her; worrying about her sent her into the shell she’d adopted early on. Instead of finding him pleasantly tinkering as usual, he’d been so broken.
Stupid; she can’t believe she’d mentioned a tow or a mechanic when he was so freshly grieving. She’d expected him to be angry with her when she finally saw him at dinner, but he’d looked as miserable as she felt. His eyes were bloodshot, but the sweet smiles he’d snuck her way had melted her.
Finally, the house was settling in for the night. Sneaking through the bathroom, as she had grown accustomed to, she didn’t even reach the door when he was on his way to her. Those whisky eyes overflowing with regret, his smile still was struggling, but adorable.
Neither spoke, neither hesitated. He pulled her into his arms so quickly, so completely, filling her with everything she’d ever needed or wanted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered
against the top of her head, his voice hoarse, his stubbled beard brushing against her hair.
Leaning into his neck, she inhaled his musky scent. “I’m sorry, too.”
Standing together until her blinks lasted longer and longer, her eyelids heavy, they moved into bed. Snuggled close, lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest, Sophie drifted off into deep, soothing sleep.
16
T-Minus 2 Days
Sophie would have said she could handle just about anything, but she would have been wrong. Had suffered more than her fair share of bad parties that her aunt had dragged her to when her agent had decided Sophie could be a star. Her stardom would have elevated Yvette right along with her, or so Yvette had thought.
What a nightmare that was. Yvette had talked up their wonderful relationship in the hopes that Sophie could land her a part in the midst of a long dry spell. When Sophie didn’t play ball, Yvette proceeded to rake her over the coals to everyone she met. Including Sophie’s teachers, friends, coaches, whoever would listen.
A rehearsal dinner should be a relaxing evening. One in which everyone is so excited for the upcoming wedding. All about the bride and groom and the fun day planned, with their closest friends and family together to make the big day happen.
“Did you hear about Pippa’s friend from Los Angeles? I hear her aunt is a sweet, delicate thing that Sophie turned her back on when her aunt got a part in a movie that Sophie had her eyes on.” The chipper voice sounded a little too thrilled to be raking the maid of honor over the coals. Yvette must still be in town somewhere. As promised, the campaign had begun, and would get much worse before she was done.
And what sort of minister spoke such nasty gossip to the mother of the groom anyway? Sophie was heading out of the bathroom when she stumbled upon the nasty bit of conversation. Groaning, she ducked out of the way to avoid having to face it head-on. Her ears burned, her breath forced in and out as she tried to ignore the tripe.
Thankfully, Lincoln’s mother sounded to be as considerate as he was. “Lincoln has known Sophie for a number of years now and is quite fond of her.”
Having heard the sort of bullshit Yvette enjoyed spreading more times than she cared to recall, she closed her eyes to steady her rapid pulse and let the nonsense roll off her like the graywater it was. Shoulders back, chin up. Sadly, just like her aunt had taught her when she thought she might be molded into her image. Regardless of the source, it was a good strategy.
The wedding venue was amazing. A garden sprawling out from a renovated barn overlooking the mountains, aptly known as The Barn, it was an incredibly serene locale for a joining of two people in love. Looking across the valley, Sophie took the fragrant, afternoon mountain air into her lungs.
She knew it was him before he even reached her. Didn’t have to look back; echoing in her chest was a pair of timpani drums with Animal from The Muppets hammering away with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Incredible view,” his deep voice rumbled, stirring a yearning deep in her chest.
“Isn’t it?” she agreed with the newcomer, wishing he’d wrap his arms around her, savoring the moment together. The last few days had been like a dream. Hours of not-sex lovemaking every night with Asher. Waking before dawn for a satisfying run and enjoying their ritualistic morning routine. Sneaking out for quiet picnics when the rest of the house was too busy to notice.
Only a few more days of the secrecy that was tearing her apart inside. Turning, she saw Asher standing a few feet away, his eyes on her rather than the evening sun glowing on the rugged Cascades in the distance.
“How’s Pippa holding up? I needed some air and didn’t see her arrive.” Needing air was an understatement. Yvette was devious and cunning when it came to getting what she wanted. Unfortunately for all, Sophie in particular, she didn’t choose to use her powers for good.
Standing a few feet away still, Asher maintained his distance. It felt like miles. “She’s hanging on by a thread. Lincoln’s calming her down now. Mom already tried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this wired before.”
Sophie knew Pippa tended to take stress to epic levels of anxiety and overzealous control freakishness, but Pippa’s behavior the last few weeks had set records. She’d heard of weddings turning perfectly normal people into monsters, but she’d never imagined it of her friend. Today’s behavior especially, and she’d spent the last four years living with Pippa. No one would ever describe Pippa as laid back, but neither was she quite so intense or emotional. “I’d better go check on her.”
Loathsome to leave the serenity of the moment, watching the warm evening sun set an orange glow over the Cascades, standing next to the man she was growing increasingly attached to, she turned and headed for the converted barn. She could feel Asher’s eyes on her as she walked away and wished he could follow. Teasing, hoping to drive him mad, she added an extra swing to her hips. His chuckle melted her insides into silky chocolatey fondue.
Back in The Barn, things weren’t looking so hot. The seating wasn’t going to be right. Where was the wedding party going to walk in from, with the ready rooms behind the small stage? Pippa was in full exasperated panic.
Steadying herself for her friend, Sophie confidently strolled into the room like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn’t a frantic, hyperventilating bride standing in the middle of the room. Ignoring the bride and her soothing–although more likely enabling–entourage, she scoped out the room. Grabbing a few folding chairs, she carted as many as she could carry outside.
Carting them out to the field, she set one not far from the idyllic spot where Asher still stood. Chair by chair, she set a few more as markers. As expected, a very confused Pippa walked to the wide barn doorway that opened to the field. Silence was a highly underrated method to getting someone’s undivided attention. Pippa had shared that helpful tip from her teacher’s training.
From her spot in the field, she hollered, “Paul, what’s the weather report tomorrow?”
Grinning, he caught on immediately. “Wedding ceremony at five pm. Predicted to be seventy-eight degrees with scattered clouds, ten percent chance of light showers.”
Shielding her eyes from the cloud-filtered sunlight, she hollered again, “What time is it now?”
Checking his watch with dramatic motions, he ensured he was heard by all, “About four-thirty.”
Walking back to the barn, she grabbed the bitch of a minister and linked arms with her. Whispering on the way to the makeshift markers she’d set out, she ended this little string of gossip before it spread further. “You may wish to get to know someone before you start spreading such nasty lies about them.” Taken aback, the minister stood where she was told and scowled. Maybe a little guilt in the scowl, maybe not, but Sophie liked to think the subtle upbraiding would have an effect.
Next, she pulled Lincoln along. Not that he needed any dragging, he winked in acknowledgement and did as he was told. Next, she directed the parents, except for Paul just yet, to the few folding chairs she’d set up to model the audience. Asher followed her back to the barn, smiling the whole way. Turning on her phone, she played the song Pippa had painstakingly selected for the bridal party’s entrance.
Pippa watched the entire proceedings, looking humorously stunned. Asher and Freya linked arms and walked the length of the field to the waiting ceremony practice scene. Winking at her, Grady took Sophie’s arm and escorted her down the aisle.
“Nice save,” he whispered as they walked.
Grady was becoming a fast friend now that the air was clear, and she enjoyed the moment with him. Leaning into him amicably on the walk, she wordlessly let him know they were okay. “She has a severe case of decision fatigue. Just trying to make her life a little easier.”
Flipping the music to the wedding march Pippa had selected, Sophie turned the volume as high as it would go so Pippa would hear. Paul extended his arm and walked Pippa down the makeshift aisle. Her lost sheep look started to look a little more like joy.
Reaching Lin
coln, she found her full smile. Taking a deep breath, the bride found a little peace. “This is where I want to get married.”
The whole group sighed together, immensely relieved they were out of the woods. Close one. Poor Pippa had put too much energy into one day. An important day, but still just a party.
The rest of the rehearsal part of the evening went smoothly. They walked through the ceremony, reception, discussed when and where photos would be, working out wedding day details. With the ceremony outside and weather predicted to be cooperative, for Washington anyway, they really could sprawl on the property, so The Barn could be designated for food and dancing.
***
After a painful hour of hashing and rehashing, they finally headed to dinner. Lincoln’s parents had rented out the big room at the finest–and only–steakhouse in town. They’d called the restaurant when things were looking bleak to have dinner pushed back a bit.
Arriving at the restaurant, Sophie went straight for the bar. Asher wasn’t far behind. Grabbing a glass of white, she waited while he grabbed a pint.
Primed for catered gatherings, the multipurpose entertaining space was perfectly designed for a relaxing evening. There were scattered high and low tables for visiting, a massive dining room table in the center to seat the entire party, and a few collected couches and chairs arranged into cozy sitting areas next to the gas fireplaces.
She’d worn her favorite olive-green linen sundress for the occasion. It was a new and rather pleasant feeling to be shorter than her date, or not-date, when wearing her tallest heels. Not just tall, his shoulders were broader, stronger than the guys she’d dated in the past. Just existing, he exuded testosterone and made her identify with the Asher groupies she had heard about.
Making her way to one of the cushy sitting areas, Sophie sat and leaned back, crossing her heeled feet on the ottoman. Settling in next to her, Asher did the same. For a moment, they sat in silence, finding a small corner of peace in a chaotically enthused party, watching as the guests filtered in.
All the Days After Page 18