Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two)

by Emily McIntire

  That tamped down anger flares, sizzling off my skin. “And you never understood the importance of not bein’ a dick.”

  His eyes flash, sparking a fire in my stomach as I hold his gaze.

  “Rebecca. That’s enough,” Papa chastises.

  My cheeks heat as I snap back to myself. I had forgotten where we were. Who we were with. Why we’re here.

  Papa smiles. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. Seems her momma didn’t make those manners stick.”

  Sarah giggles, and my head snaps to her at the same time as Eli’s. I’m sure I imagine the way his eyes narrow. Papa preens at her attention, his grin growing, and I brace myself for the hits I know he’s about to rain down.

  He holds eye contact with Sarah, but throws his jabs my way. “Must be all those high schoolers she’s around all day long.”

  I roll my eyes. “Papa, you make it sound like I’m still a student and not the faculty.”

  “Oh, believe me, Rebecca Jean. I’m all too aware of your standin’ in this town.”

  His words drill into the pit of my stomach, the shame of how this town sees me—how my family sees me—careening off my insides and blossoming on my cheeks.

  My gaze drops, curls shadowing my face.

  “Preacher Sanger.” Eli’s gripping his chair so tight his knuckles are white. My spirit soars, thinking he’s about to put Papa in his place—that someone’s going to defend me for once.

  “I don’t think this is a conversation to have in polite company. Do you need us to give you a few minutes?”

  And just like that, my heart crashes, landing on its other broken pieces.

  Of course he isn’t defending me. Why would he?

  I’m a stupid girl with stupid expectations.

  “No, no.” Papa waves him off. “I’m actually headin’ out. I have a meetin’ to get to.”

  On cue, there’s a knock at the door.

  Sally fucking Sanderson pops her head in. “Don, are you… Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  The irritation in my veins ratchets higher, threatening to explode out of me at any second.

  A brash laugh bubbles out before I can stop it. “Have fun in your ‘meetin’.’ Hope it doesn’t run late, so you can still make it home to your wife.”

  Something dark glimmers in Papa’s eyes, but he simply jerks his head, and waltzes out of the room, his hand resting on the small of Sally’s back.

  The sound of the door clicking shut echoes off the tension in the air.

  So much for professionalism.

  I inhale a deep breath, trying to find my center, but it’s too late. The scabs from my past have been picked open and left to bleed, and now they’re impossible to ignore.

  “So.” I clap my hands, pasting a smile on my face. “Let’s talk weddin’s. As you can see” —I wave my hand toward the door Papa just left— “marriage is somethin’ to celebrate. Relationships last forever, even when you don’t want them to. Let’s get y’all hitched, shall we?”

  I’m bitter and I know it, but screw this whole thing. This entire situation is a gigantic flashing sign, reminding me that this is the reason I left Eli all those years ago.

  Because one day, he’d be having meetings with his mistress while I pine away, living in our memories. That fact is staring me directly in the face, in the form of a strawberry-blonde, prim and proper angel, wearing his ring and sitting by his side.

  The one he works with.

  Just like Papa.

  I stand up straighter, a renewed determination spreading through my chest.

  I did the right thing.

  Small moments of happiness aren’t worth a lifetime of misery. I won’t forget that again.

  37

  Eli

  “Relationships last forever.”

  “Not all relationships,” I snark at Becca, unable to help the jab after what she just said.

  Sarah cocks her head. “Honey, that’s depressing. Why would you even say that?”

  I grab her hand, kissing the back and placing it on my knee.

  Forever.

  The realization hits me like a freight train that once I marry Sarah, there is no going back. It will be us, every day of forever. It doesn’t fill me with excitement. Not the way it should.

  I care about her, though. She’s been exactly what I’ve needed the past few years, and the type of woman Ma would have wanted for me. But for the first time, I feel selfish in asking her to be my wife.

  Regardless, I wasn’t talking about the relationship I have with Sarah. My words weren’t meant for her.

  Becca swallows and turns her face to the side, biting on her lips, I’m sure to keep that infuriating mouth of hers in check. Annoyance pricks my insides that I’m not getting the reaction I want.

  She walks toward her father’s desk, stepping behind it, her hands hovering over the top. Shaking her head, she glances up. Her eyes are swimming in something vulnerable—a way I’ve only seen one other time—the day we skipped our lesson after the phone call with her mom.

  Just like then, I want to sweep away her sadness.

  And that pisses me off more than her mouth ever has.

  “Can y’all…” She clears her throat. “Do y’all mind if we move this to a different area?” She glances at the desk again and grimaces, stepping further away.

  My eyes narrow, trying to figure out what her problem is.

  Sarah smiles, jumping from her seat. “Lead the way.”

  She links their arms and Becca stiffens, her eyes growing round as she glances back at me, and then down at their crisscrossed elbows. I smirk, pleased with how uncomfortable she seems at Sarah’s friendliness.

  We walk to a conference room off the hall and settle in at one of the round tables in the corner.

  “So, what are y’all thinkin’?” Becca tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, flipping open a notebook and picking up her pen.

  I stay quiet because I’m not thinking anything other than getting this fiasco over with, and going back to Florida. I’m ready to start the next phase of my life. One that does not include anything here in Sugarlake. The only thing I’m taking with me is the memory of Ma, and knowing I’m giving her what she wants. I don’t need any other reminders of this town.

  Sarah sighs, patting my knee with her hand. “To be honest, I don’t really have any clue, other than I want it here and I want it in a couple months.”

  Becca’s pen stutters on the paper. She peers at me through her lashes before angling her head back down. “A couple months?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to distract from the sting in my chest.

  “Yeah, didn’t I tell you that on the phone? We want to have the wedding in August. I want to start the next school year as Mrs. Elliot Carson.” Sarah beams, her eyes tender as they meet mine.

  I hold her gaze, but I feel the burn of Becca’s stare. My hands grow clammy, and I shift in my chair.

  Becca twirls a strand of hair around her fingers, the line between her brows creasing. “Oh, I must have missed that part. I thought y’all were just in town to scout the area.”

  Irritation spikes through my veins. We don’t owe her any explanation for how we’re doing things.

  “Nope,” I interject. “More of a wham, bam, thank you ma’am kind of thing. Being here once is more than enough. Too much, really. I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

  Sarah’s elbow nudges my side, and I lift my shoulders, my brows rising. “What? I’m just saying.”

  Becca’s eyes laser into me. “Who says I don’t agree?”

  I huff out a laugh. “You tell me. You’re the one living here.”

  “You don’t have to love a place to live there.”

  “True.” I rub my chin. “If you loved it, you’d probably leave.”

  Sarah’s hand clamps down on my knee, and I jerk from the pressure, glancing at her. Her face is frozen in a pinched smile, her gaze full of questions. I don’t bother pacifying her, my eyes already drawn back
to Becca, needing to see her reaction.

  Becca’s nostrils flare, the fire I used to love about her raging on her cheeks.

  Butterflies erupt in my stomach, the energy building until it spreads to my chest.

  Becca’s eyes become slits. “Mighty presumptuous of you to think you know anything about what I love.”

  Sarah laughs, her hand finally easing off my knee. “Jeez, you two fight like siblings.”

  My gut jolts from her words.

  “Yeah, well that’s what happens when you grow up with someone whose main purpose in life is to drive you insane.” Becca smiles sweetly.

  “Please.” I scoff. “You weren’t even a thought back then. Maybe if I had given you some attention, you wouldn’t have a father who sees you as the town bicycle.”

  My heartache spews like vitriolic acid, hoping to eat away her cold exterior and show me the woman underneath. I ache to see her—to know if she still exists. To find out if she ever really did.

  “Eli,” Sarah gasps.

  Becca’s smile drops, her body hunching like my words are a physical blow against her chest.

  The sour taste of what I said sits in the back of my throat, making me feel like I might puke. I suck my teeth to keep from apologizing.

  This is why I need to leave here as soon as possible. She makes me lose complete control, and I don’t want this shit in my life—all of these emotions I have no use for.

  Becca clears her throat, blinking rapidly to stem the tears teasing the corner of her eyes. “Well, we all have our place in this town, I guess.” She lifts a shoulder. “I’m the town bicycle, and you’re the disgraced hero, too ashamed to show his face, even to the ghost of his momma.”

  The chasm in my chest widens, rupturing my heart, and leaving a throbbing pain in its absence.

  Bitch.

  Shame ignites my veins for the way I am. For the fear that keeps me from things I know I need to face. For the failure of not being the man I was raised to be.

  The air grows thick, Becca’s words mixing with my fucked-up emotions and sticking to my skin. How is it the girl who should mean nothing is the one to see through to my core, when the one I’ve promised my forever to hasn’t even peeled a layer?

  Sarah laughs, a light tinkling noise. “Well, this is awkward. I feel like putting you guys in time out or telling you to kiss and make up.”

  My stomach leaps at her words, my eyes searing into Becca’s.

  She looks away, focusing on Sarah, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m bein’ so unprofessional and it’s not what you deserve. I really do want to give y’all a good ceremony, even if your choice in husband is questionable, at best.”

  My muscles tense. “Nice. Super professional.”

  Sarah grabs my hand, linking our fingers. “To know him is to love him. You know, Becca… we were hoping you could be convinced to help with everything, not just the ceremony.”

  My stomach drops, my face flying to Sarah’s. “We were?”

  Her smile tightens as she peers at me. “Yep.”

  Becca’s shaking her head, her eyes wide. “Oh, no I… I really don’t know the first thing about weddin’s.”

  “Oh, nonsense.” Sarah waves her off. “I don’t need you to know about weddings. As long as you know the town and where to go to get what we need. Please say you’ll help. We’ll pay you, of course.”

  I look at my lap to hide the way my teeth grind. I had no idea Sarah was planning this. There’s no way I want Becca spending more time than necessary with my fiancée, planning my wedding.

  “How much?” Becca asks.

  I snap my head up. The hell? My gut squeezes, shocked that she’s actually considering this.

  “However much you want.” Sarah smiles. “You’d really be doing us a favor.”

  Becca’s eyes are calculating, bouncing back and forth between us as she twists her curls in her fingers. She blows out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll do it.”

  My heart catapults from my chest.

  She never really cared, and that fact is more than obvious. Because even after all this time, after everything she’s done, I could never stand by and watch her marry someone else. And I sure as shit wouldn’t help make it happen.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, sending a tingle down my leg. I pull it out, planning to silence the call, but the number is one I recognize.

  It’s one I dialed this morning.

  “Excuse me, ladies. I have to take this.”

  Becca doesn’t even acknowledge me. Sarah gives me a weird look, but I’ll explain it to her later, right after she tells me what the hell she’s thinking, hiring Becca as our wedding planner.

  I leave the room, walking down the hallway and pushing through the front doors.

  Taking a deep breath, my heart ramming against my chest cavity, I answer.

  38

  Eli

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Elliot Carson?”

  My stomach clenches, my foot tapping against the cement. “Yep. This is he.”

  “Hi, Elliot. This is Mark, from Stepping Stones Rehabilitation Center. I’m returning your call from this morning. You’re looking for some information?”

  I sit on the front steps of the church, leg bouncing, and my heart thumping in time to my jitters. The sun beats down like a warning—do not pussy out of this call.

  “Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I’m calling about my father. He uh…” I swipe my hand through my locks, tugging on the roots, searching for what to say.

  How can I verbalize something I’m still attempting to understand?

  “He drinks a lot. He’s… not himself anymore.” My teeth clench, a ball of anxiety lodging itself in my gut. “I don’t even know why I called, I doubt he’ll even go willingly, but—” The words stick in my throat. I grip the phone tighter. “He needs help. I need help. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

  My limbs feel shaky, fear trickling through my heart, afraid that this man, Mark, will brush me off. Terrified of a stranger telling me I’m on my own. That I’m overreacting.

  That ball of anxiety breaks free, ricocheting against my insides, leaving holes from where it hits. Mark’s voice is in my ear, but I don’t hear his words, my mind bogged down by my sudden realization.

  I’ve been ignoring Lee’s pleas for years when she’s been on the other end of the line, probably feeling terrified of me rejecting what she says. Every time.

  Holy shit.

  I am the villain in this story.

  Turns out, Pops is human, prone to making mistakes just like the rest of us. He’s not the man who raised me, and coming home has shattered any illusion I had left. The shame that’s kept me away for years, the absolute terror of seeing the disappointment in his eyes—it’s all a moot point.

  There’s nothing in his gaze except the fog of whiskey, and the shadow of Ma’s absence.

  I have no clue how to handle him. But I know my sister shouldn’t have to. Not alone. Not anymore.

  I pray I’m not too late.

  “Are you there?” Mark’s voice brings me back to the moment.

  “Yeah, yes. I’m sorry, I just…” My stomach rolls.

  He sighs. “Listen, Elliot. I know this is hard. The first step always is. But you’re calling. You’re doing it. You’re taking that first step, and all we can do is hope your father does the same. You can’t force someone to change if they aren’t ready. The decision is always theirs.”

  My forehead drops to my hand, and I nod against my palm.

  The decision is theirs.

  I’m not very hopeful. It took me years to see the truth, and if I’m still struggling to face it, then I’m doubtful Pops ever will. After all, I modeled my stubbornness from him. A watered-down replica of the traits that live in his flaws.

  It’s hard to admit things about the people you love, the ones you’ve spent your entire life revering. Feels a lot like betrayal to the man who raised me.

  I
t’s even harder to admit things about yourself.

  I’ve ignored a lot in my life—a master of avoidance. It’s not a badge I wear with honor, but it’s one I wear all the same. Coming home has loosened the stitching, warping the edges and letting them dangle off my soul. Maybe it’s time to rip it clean off.

  Pops is an alcoholic.

  It’s obvious in the pallor of his skin, and his liquor-soaked breath. Plain as day in Lee’s shoulders as they slump under the weight of his addiction. It screams from the slur in his speech, and the defeat that pours from Lee’s gaze.

  Still, none of that is what made me open my eyes.

  It was the look in Chase’s stare as he pleaded with me to just fucking see before it was too late. I don’t know what Chase went through, but I know what it looks like when regret lives inside you, and his was spilling on the floor with every word he spoke. He doused me in the icy water of truth, and woke me the hell up.

  Now I’ll never sleep again.

  There’s no hiding the handles of Jameson clinking in the trash after being emptied through the day—snuck into Pops’s coffee cups and his Dr. Peppers. No ignoring the boxes of beer, broken down by the back door, slid behind the garbage can to keep out of sight.

  I have no clue how he’s kept it from the town for as long as he has. I will never be able to make up for the past. There’s no magic button to reset all the ways I’ve failed the people around me, all the ways I’ve failed myself.

  But I can keep from regretting my future.

  I give Mark my email and hang up the phone, knowing I won’t go back inside. I can’t handle Becca, knowing she’ll see the pain that’s rubbed raw and exposed.

  Instead, I study the church cemetery across the lot. My vision blurs the longer I stare, queasiness stirring in my stomach when I think about Ma’s grave. I’ve only seen it once—the day she was buried—mounds of dirt coating my soul as it was shoveled on top of her remains. I remember the feel as it soaked into my skin, infusing every pore with grime that even the strongest soap can’t wash away.