by Hart, Lane
“Lucy, it’s Nash,” I tell her, and there’s silence on the other end of the line for so long that I have to look at the screen to see if we got disconnected. “You there?”
“Yeah, sorry. What’s up?” she asks, her voice sounding off. Maybe it’s because of how we left shit, me shoving my tongue down her throat, ready to rip our clothes off. It could’ve been too much too soon even though I made it clear I wanted her. We can hash that shit out later, though.
“Well, this is going to sound sort of crazy, but do you think I could crash your cousin’s wedding?”
“Huh?” Lucy asks.
“Have you left for Charleston yet?”
“No.”
“Good, because I want to come with you,” I explain.
“Why?” she asks, which catches me off-guard. I thought she would jump at the idea of having someone go with her to the shitshow where she has to see her ex-boyfriend marry her own damn cousin, all while pretending she’s over him. And I could possibly distract her by picking up where things left off in my apartment.
“Moral support?” I offer. Again, nothing but silence as I check the time counter on the screen as it ticks on and on. “Lucy?”
“I…I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Nash.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t!”
“Come on, Lucy! You’ve been dreading this wedding for weeks. If you want, you can tell everyone I’m your date, rub it in that asshole’s face to show him you’re over him, even if you’re not…”
“Fucking hell,” Malcolm grumbles from behind me, obviously eavesdropping.
“I don’t know…” she says, still not sold on the idea.
“Please, Lucy. I really, really need to get out of town this weekend.”
“And why is that?” she asks.
“Take me with you, and maybe I’ll tell you,” I reply even though there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell this sweet girl about the possible murder charges coming at me.
Her sigh is so heavy I can hear it over the wind and waves crashing along the pier.
“I’m getting ready to leave and you’re not home. When are you coming back?”
“Ah, well, I’m sort of tied up at the moment,” I lie. “Do you think you could go up to my apartment and just throw whatever you think I’ll need in a bag for me, then swing by and pick me up?”
“Yeah, I, um, I guess so. Pick you up where?”
Fuck, that’s a good question. No place like the present. “Do you know where the pier is on Canal Drive?”
“What are you doing at the pier?”
“Ah, you know, just doing a little fishing with the guys.”
“Fishing? Malcolm called and you had to leave in a hurry to go fishing with him?” Lucy throws back at me with heavy skepticism in her voice. The girl is smart, and I hate feeding her bullshit, but what choice do I have? If I tell her what happened, what I did and could be going to jail for soon, she would never speak to me again, much less let me tag along with her this weekend. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being away from her for an entire weekend when I’ve gotten used to seeing her several times a day lately.
“Look, I’m sorry to be such a pain in the ass,” I tell her truthfully. “Will you grab my things and come pick me up so I can go with you? You know you’ll have more fun if I’m there with you.”
“Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I pack your bag,” she says with another heavy sigh.
“Thank you,” I say in relief. “See you then.”
“She coming?” Malcolm asks as soon as I go over and hand his phone back to him.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Good, I guess. Leave your bike here, and I’ll have someone give me a ride over later so I can stash it at my place.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I guess you should call Lucy on her cell if you hear anything the next few days.”
“I will.”
“How often do the two of you talk?” I ask, only a smidge jealous since I know Malcolm is a hundred percent loyal to Naomi.
“As much as we need to,” he answers with a smirk. “Call me if your plans change this weekend and you decide not to head to Charleston.”
“The wedding’s in Charleston. Why would our plans change?”
“Just in case,” he mutters, shrugging his shoulders.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucy
* * *
Pack me a bag. Come pick me up. Take me to the wedding.
Nash better be glad I have a serious soft spot for him. If I had any sense, I would have hightailed it out of here without a second thought and hoped to never speak to him again. But what if this weekend is the last time I’ll get to see him for possibly years?
No matter what he’s done, I trust Jetta when she said Nash had a good reason for doing what he did. Hopefully, he’ll even open up and tell me about it since we’ll be spending the next three and a half days together. I’m just not sure if taking him to the wedding is the best idea.
The more I think about it as I pack him a bag with several jeans and tees, some boardshorts and boxer briefs, along with the one pair of dark slacks and white button up in his closet, the more I’m certain that I should talk him into heading someplace else for the weekend.
That’s why, as soon as he sits down in the passenger side of my Prius with a forced smile on his face, not giving away any sort of visible signs that he’s up shit creek without a paddle, I tell him so. “What if we just ditch the wedding and go to Myrtle Beach or something?”
His smile falls, and he removes his sunglasses to look me in the eye.
“There’s a beach right there,” he says, pointing to the ocean. “Why would I want to drive down to another one for the weekend? You’ve got the wedding…”
“I’m not sure if we should go. In fact, I think we would both be better off just blowing it off.”
“No way!” he exclaims. “You can’t blow this off. If you don’t show up, he’ll think you aren’t over him, right? Isn’t that what you said the other day?”
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing! Suck it up and drive so you can face these fuckers and prove you’re better off and they can kiss your ass,” Nash says as he slides his sunglasses back on his face and stares straight ahead, waiting.
“Nash…there’s something I really need to tell you,” I start.
“Fine, tell me as you drive us to Charleston.”
“You don’t want to go to this wedding. Trust me, Nash.”
“Oh, we’re going to this wedding, and I’m your date. If you want, I will spend the entire fucking weekend with my tongue shoved down your throat. Bet your ex will be jealous as shit. He’ll regret the day he hurt you.”
Oh wow. This, his sex appeal, is exactly why I seem to be able to push aside the fact that Nash is a suspect in multiple murders and agree to go on a road trip with him. I’m so weak for him, it’s pathetic. I want everything he said – a weekend with his tongue down my throat even if he doesn’t ever want more with me. I’m afraid Nash’s hourglass of freedom is running out of sand, and I’m dreading the day very soon when that happens.
“So, I guess we’re going to the wedding,” I say.
“Damn right we are.”
“If we get there and you change your mind, we can leave,” I promise him.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” Nash says confidently.
If I had to bet, he’ll be backing out of that promise before the end of the night.
Nash
* * *
The closer we get to Charleston, the more nervous Lucy acts. The usually talkative woman barely says a word and won’t even look at me. I know she’s driving and shit, but she seems…off.
Unfortunately, the silence in the car is the last thing I need, giving me more time in my fucked-up head. I’m worried about what happens next week, if I’ll be wearing handcuffs for the rest of my life and all of that, but I’m also worried that, by skipping town, somehow
I could drag Lucy into my mess. My face could be plastered all over the news soon enough and everyone will know, even her…
“We’re here,” Lucy says as if I hadn’t noticed she had stopped the car in front of the resort. When she doesn’t move, not even taking her hands off the steering wheel, I ask, “Do you want me to stay here while you go check us in?”
“Yeah,” she answers with a nod.
“You don’t mind me crashing in your room, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Everything okay?” I ask in concern since she still looks like a deer in headlights.
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re sort of freaking me out, Lucy,” I admit to her.
“Sorry,” she says. “Just having second thoughts. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to keep driving?”
“No. You were determined to do this and show them you’ve moved on, remember?”
“Right. Yeah. Okay,” she agrees. Finally, she lets go of the steering wheel and reaches into the backseat for her purse. “I’ll go check us in, and you stay here.”
“Sounds good,” I reply since that’s exactly what I just said.
My plan was to wait in the car for her; but after twenty minutes, I need to stretch my legs. So, I decide to get out and go inside to see what’s taking so long.
As soon as I walk through the automatic glass doors, I spot Lucy talking to a group of people. Based on her stiff posture, I begin to realize that the chubby-looking man in front of her must be her ex. What a loser. She can do so much better than him. I’m so locked in on the guy who hurt her as I approach the group and slip my arm around Lucy’s shoulder to help her loosen up that I don’t even notice the other three women until one of them says my name in a freakishly familiar way.
“Nash?”
I finally take my eyes off the pudgy bastard sizing me up to seek out who the hell recognizes me. There are two older women with blondish-white hair who must be sisters based on their similar size and facial characteristics. Then, there’s the woman beside fatso who is clearly very pregnant. I assume she’s the bride and Lucy’s cousin. Finally, I glance up at her face, and it feels like I’ve been sucker punched in the gut.
Fucking hell.
No, it can’t be.
My arm falls from Lucy’s shoulders as I blink at her in confusion and then down at Lucy’s cringing face.
“What are you doing here, Nash?” the pregnant woman exclaims when she takes several steps backward.
“Nash? As in your ex-husband?” Fat Boy asks before turning to Lucy. “Why would you bring her ex-husband?”
“Ellie?” I finally force her name past my lips.
“Oh, don’t pretend like this is all a coincidence!” she exclaims loudly, causing everyone in the lobby to stare at us. “Is this some sort of sick payback?” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at Lucy. Eyes that are a similar blue…
“He didn’t know,” Lucy says softly.
“But you did!” she screeches.
God. My ex-wife may still be beautiful, but I haven’t missed her annoying voice constantly shrieking.
“This stress isn’t good for the baby!” Ellie exclaims, clutching at her bump before she turns around and storms off.
“Lucy, how could you?” one of the women mutters before she and the doughboy go chasing after her. That must have been Ellie’s mother. I only met her and Ellie’s father once years ago when they made it clear they didn’t approve of me.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have come, sweetie,” the remaining woman says with a gentle tone, making me assume she’s Lucy’s mother.
“This is not what it looks like!” Lucy says. “Nash didn’t know Ellie was marrying Barry.”
“Ellie’s marrying that prick and having his kid?” I yell since I still didn’t know that shit. “This is why she sent me divorce papers? To marry that fat bastard?”
“Yes,” Lucy says to me. “I’m sorry. If you want to leave, we can.”
“Fuck yes I want to leave!” I shout as I shake my head in disbelief and walk away, feeling like I’m suddenly starring in an episode of the fucking Twilight Zone.
Lucy
* * *
“Nash, wait! I’m sorry!” I call out as I hurry across the lobby to catch up with Nash, who is heading out the door like he just saw a ghost. And yeah, in a way, I guess he has since this is the first time he’s seen Ellie in three years.
He’s passing along the passenger side of my car with all of his fingers tugging on his hair by the time I catch up.
“What…you….fuck!” he shouts to the sky like he’s trying to find the words.
“Get in the car,” I tell him, and he stops pacing long enough to glare down at me, his golden eyes angrier than I’ve ever seen before. “Please?”
“Fuck!” he exclaims again before he jerks the door open and folds up inside before slamming it closed so hard that I hope he didn’t break it.
I hurry around and get in the driver seat, toss my purse into the backseat, then get us out of there, driving like a bat out of hell.
It sucks that I’m driving, because I have to keep my attention split between the road and a fuming Nash beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him again. “I tried to warn you, but I didn’t know how. I should’ve just come out and told you…”
“You fucking think?” he snaps while cracking his knuckles.
“Don’t forget that I did try and talk you out of coming,” I remind him. “But you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“If you had told me…”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to come?” I finish for him. “Or you would’ve wanted to come even more to see her?”
I steal a quick glance at Nash, who has turned his face away to look out the window.
“You’re fucking related to her!” he mutters.
“Yes. Ellie’s my cousin. Our moms are sisters.”
“And you’ve known this whole entire time who I was?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus! Why, Lucy?” he asks.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I admit to him, unable to face him. “At first, I think I was hoping that maybe I could convince you to try and win her back. But then I saw how hard getting over her was for you and realized that you deserved better, to be free of her.”
“That’s seriously fucked up,” he grumbles.
“I know that!” I agree. “Which is why I gave up on that stupid idea by, like, the second day we met.”
“You moved into my goddamn building, into the apartment below me like some psycho stalker!”
“I know,” I reply with my throat burning and eyes stinging so badly that I have to pull over into a gas station. After putting the car in park, I go back to gripping the steering wheel. “But I didn’t move to Carolina Beach just for you. It looked like a nice place. I love the beach, and I wanted a fresh start, so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone.”
I don’t have to look at Nash’s face to know he’s scowling.
“Tell me what I can do to make this up to you,” I say softly. “Wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do.”
Blowing out a breath, he says, “I have no fucking idea. It’s like I can’t wake up from a shitty nightmare, and I just want to fucking hit someone!”
Despite how pissed he is, I don’t think he would ever physically take his anger out on me. Still, I can tell from his tense posture that he’s wound tight. So tight, he’ll eventually snap. So, to make sure Nash doesn’t end up in prison just yet, I grab my phone from my purse and do a quick search. Thankfully, we’re only twenty miles away from a place where Nash can work out all of his rage without it ending in handcuffs.
“Now where are we going? You planning to reunite me with my biological parents without telling me?”
“No, sorry,” I say again with a glance at him. “But I could find them for you if you want.” I visibly cringe when I realize that I was supposed to act shocked to learn he spent years in the foster syst
em.
“Is there anything you don’t know about me?” he huffs. “Apparently, I don’t know a damn thing about you except that you’re an excellent liar!”
“That back there was it for me, the only lie I’ve omitted from you. It’s possible that I was a woman scorned and not thinking clearly when I first moved into the apartment under yours.”
“No shit.”
The two of us are both silent the rest of the way until I stop the car again.
“What’s this place?” he asks, glancing at the building from the passenger window.
“Come inside and find out,” I tell him.
“No, thanks. I just want to be alone.”
That was a nice way of saying he’s super pissed at me and doesn’t want to be near me. I completely understand why, but I don’t want him to hate me.
“It’ll be good for you, I promise, even better than sulking alone. Please, Nash?”
“What fucking choice do I have? Can’t be worse than you nagging me to death,” it sounds like he mumbles to himself before he reluctantly gets out and follows me to the door.
Inside, I step up to the counter where a young guy wearing a blue bandana with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail is standing, waiting. I pull out my wallet.
“Welcome to the Demolition Zone,” he greets us. “Will it just be the two of you today?”
“Yes,” I say at the same time as Nash says, “Oh, so we’re not inviting our exes to join us?”
Ponytail guy looks between us, and I smile sweetly at him. “Just two, thanks.”
“Great. And how many items will you be needing? Our packages start at five and go up to fifteen.”
“Better make it fifteen,” I say with a sigh as I hand over my debit card.
“All right. Let me get you both to sign our waivers while I run your payment, and then we’ll get you suited up.” He offers us each a clipboard with a pen attached and a sheet of paper outlining all of the ways we could get hurt and how the business won’t be responsible.