Our Love Unhinged (Reluctant Hearts Book 4)

by Brighton Walsh

  She gives me another slow nod, but this time, her forehead’s creased, like she’s trying to figure out where I’m going with this.

  “Well, here’s the thing. There’s some crazy talk going around that open, honest communication is the key to a successful marriage.” I hook my fingers in her back belt loops and rub my thumbs along the small of her back. “So you can bring me all the extra candy you want—don’t think I haven’t noticed that, by the way—and I can take you to surprise weekend getaways, but if we don’t have the basics down . . . Baby, we’re doomed. I need you to talk to me. Can you do that?”

  I can see the minute she realizes I’m right. That she has to do this if she wants our relationship to survive the next fifty years. And she does see it—that much is clear as I watch her expression change. How she goes from scared to resigned to determined.

  Finally, she nods. “You’re right. I know you are. And I want to talk to you, I do. But”—she glances down, watching the movement of her hand as she trails it down my chest to rest over my heart—“can you give me a little time alone? Just to get my thoughts in order?”

  If a while by herself is what she needs to work up the courage to talk to me about whatever has been bothering her, I’ll give it to her. Honestly, I’d give her a lifetime if it made it easier for her. “Sure, baby, whatever you need. How about I go find something for dinner?”

  She blows out a breath, her body finally relaxing as she wraps her arms around me in a hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is quiet next to my ear, just the barest of whispers, but I hear it all the same.

  If I thought the past week was long, I’m willing to bet it’s going to have nothing on how long the next couple hours will feel.

  winter

  Cade’s been gone for over an hour, but this panic bubbling into my throat hasn’t lessened at all. With two words, he succinctly summed up exactly what I’ve been feeling for the past several weeks. Time’s up. But how do I tell him that? How do I share with him fears that don’t even make sense to me? Fears I know are unfounded, but are there all the same, weighing me down, tainting everything. It’s like all the stress of a wedding multiplied by a thousand, because one thought plays over and over in my mind, like a broken record.

  What if I’m not enough to keep him?

  I have no family, all but one of the friends I’m lucky enough to have in my life have come from him, and I have no fucking idea how to give him the kind of life he deserves—the kind of family he deserves.

  If I can’t keep him, not only would I lose him—the only person who’s ever loved me for me—but I’d lose the people I’ve come to consider family, despite how badly I’ve tried to avoid it.

  There’s only so much heartbreak a person should be expected to suffer in a lifetime. I’m just not sure I could survive the aftermath of being left again.

  Even having this all worked out in my head, I have no idea how to go about actually sharing it with Cade, despite the fact that I know he’s right. If I want our marriage to survive, I need to be able to be honest with him about this—about everything. The kicker, though, is that I don’t even know what he could possibly do to actually help. It’s not as if he doesn’t show me he loves me. His fear that I would feel like I was second place to his career couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s actually a bit of a relief to know he has certain doubts, too, but that he’d doubt for a minute that I see his love every day in the little—and big—things he does for me is crazy.

  And that’s the thing . . . if he already shows me that, if I already feel his love, what will it take to finally get through to me and put these fears to rest once and for all?

  I’m not any closer to an answer when he walks through the door much later. He’s been gone for almost three hours, but it might as well have been three minutes for all the good the time alone has done me.

  “Hey, baby,” he says as he steps through the door, locking it behind him. He comes over to where I’m perched at the foot of the bed and leans down to give me a kiss, pressing his lips to mine. “I hope you’re hungry. I got enough Thai to feed an army.”

  I relax slightly, though I’m not sure why I thought he’d walk through the door and demand I start talking immediately. He’s not like that—has never been like that. He’ll let me do this on my time, if that’s what makes me comfortable. I follow him to the small dining table in the corner to help him unload. He’s already pulling boxes out of the bag, working quickly as he gets everything laid out for us.

  As he places a carton close to me, writing on his left hand catches my eye. I don’t think as I reach out and grasp his hand in mine, tugging it to me for a closer look. For a split second, I think it’s marker. It has to be. Because even though that’d be a little weird—that he randomly scrawled my name on his finger—it’s easier to process than the alternative. But then I notice the slight sheen on the base of his finger—exactly what Cade’s skin looks like after he’s gotten a fresh tattoo—and I realize the single word on his left ring finger isn’t in his handwriting . . . It’s in mine.

  Winter.

  Right there, for all the world to see, a week before our wedding is even supposed to take place, he’s branded himself with my name. Thoughts come rushing back to me of the night years ago, when Cade followed me onto the bus after he was a no-show at our unspoken date the previous two evenings. How he sat across from me, begging me for a date. How disappointed I was when I saw Haley’s name on his arm, assuming it was his girlfriend, and wondering what it’d be like to be loved by someone so much they’d want to mark themselves forever with your name.

  I don’t have to wonder anymore.

  “Cade. Oh my God. Cade.” My heart’s beating too fast, and I don’t know whether to puke or scream. “Holy shit. Holy fuck. You can’t—what if you . . .” I stumble through my thoughts, until suddenly they rush out of me like a tsunami. “God, what if you figure out I’m not enough? That I don’t have anything to offer you! I had one measly person to invite to the wedding. I don’t have anyone else! And then—shit—I was stressing about being an aunt to one kid and now I have to take on two. And what if we have kids? Oh my God. If I’m freaking out about kids who aren’t even mine, what then? You can’t just leave the tattoo behind like you can me! Why would you do that? Why would you do that?”

  He ducks to try and catch my eye, but I can’t take mine off his newly marked skin. “This is all because you’re worried about not having anyone at the wedding?” he asks, his voice somehow calm while my throat is raw from yelling. “Baby, I don’t care if we go to the Justice of the Peace right now and get married with people they had to pull in as witnesses. If it ends with you as my wife, I’m happy. That’s all I care about.”

  I scoff, pulling away as I pace the room, digging the heels of my hands against my eyes. My skin’s getting too tight, invisible fingers creeping up my neck and closing around my throat, and I can’t breathe. “It’s more than not having anyone to invite to the wedding, Cade! It’s about not being able to give you the family you deserve.”

  “Baby,” he says, stopping my pacing and pulling me into his lap. He brushes the hair back from my face. “Breathe. Winter, you need to breathe.”

  It’s only then that I realize I’m damn close to hyperventilating, my body covered in a light sheen of sweat. And suddenly I can’t hold back the tears. It’s all too much. Everything I’ve been feeling since I woke up with his ring on my finger comes pouring out of me. All I manage to get out is one word, over and over again.

  Why. Why? Why?

  Cade holds me to him, his left hand trapped between us as I clutch it to my chest. He presses kisses anywhere he can reach while his right hand rubs circles against my back, and he answers every one of my whys with, “Because I love you.”

  When my throat is sore and my eyes are puffy and itchy, I’m finally cried out. He sits silently for a few minutes, his calm comforting in the face of my panic. Eventually, he shifts enough to pull something from his pocket, then slide
s it into my hand. Through swollen eyes, I glance down at the multi-folded postcard.

  “Open it,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple.

  Not wanting to release my hold on his hand, I fumble with the paper one-handed. To anyone else, it’d look like a generic postcard—just a picture of the Seattle Space Needle. But not to me. I recognize this postcard, and even before I flip it over, I know the exact words that will be written there.

  No matter where I am, you’re my home.

  And then I signed my name, never guessing that a year later, he’d use the same six letters to brand himself forever.

  “I remember the day I got that in the mail,” he says against my temple. “You’d already left Seattle and were headed to New Mexico by the time it showed up in Chicago. I missed you so fucking much while you were gone, but I wanted you to do what you needed to. And I wanted you to do it without having my issues weighing you down, but I was scared, baby. I was so fucking scared you wouldn’t come back to me.” He hugs me closer to him, burying his nose into my neck and breathing me in. After a moment, he says, “And then I got this in the mail, and it was like everything clicked. I wasn’t scared anymore, because I knew it was the same for you as it was for me. I’ve carried it around in my wallet ever since to remind me.”

  He pulls back far enough to meet my eyes, wrapping his fingers around the back of my neck as his thumb caresses my jaw. “I’m going to say this to you, and I want you to listen to me, okay?” He waits for my nod, then says, “You are the family I deserve. I don’t know what I did to make you think this thing between us was optional for me. That I didn’t need you to fucking breathe.” He brings my left hand to his lips, kissing my engagement ring. “You think even without this tattoo on my finger, you haven’t marked me forever? Whether it’s your literal name on me or not, I’m yours, Winter. I always have been, and this is me trying to show you that’s not going to change. You don’t have to be worried I’m going to bail or get fed up or tired of you. I’m in this with you, baby. For the rest of our lives.”

  Somehow, though I thought I cried myself out, a few tears manage to slip down my cheeks again at his words. Cade leans forward and kisses them all away, whispering all the while how much he loves me. How much he needs me. How he can’t live without me.

  It’s everything I’ve waited my whole life to hear. Everything I’ve spent most of my years years secretly dreaming of, even though I lied to myself about it and did whatever I could to avoid it.

  Maybe it’s that it’s happening now, at this exact moment in time, or maybe it’s because he took these specific steps to show me how much I mean to him. Or maybe it’s because he shared an insecurity he felt. I don’t know what it is, but instead of hearing him through the filter I erected long ago, picking and choosing what words got through, I let every single one of them seep in. Let them settle into my bones until I feel them so deep inside me, I’m not sure where they end and I begin.

  I don’t know how I got lucky enough to call this man mine, but I did. Somehow, despite my childhood and all the baggage that comes along with it, I did. And I’m done questioning it. I’m done living my life perched on the cliff of a bunch of what ifs. I’m ready to start the rest of our lives together, right now. No fear. No questioning. No uncertainty.

  Just love.

  August 20

  winter

  I thought I’d be a panicked mess. Assumed I’d be breathing into a paper bag or chewing my nails to the quick, but I’m not. I can’t believe that’s how this day is playing out, but I don’t feel even an ounce of nerves. Instead, I’m . . . excited. And anxious. Not in a bad way, but in a let’s-hurry-up-and-get-to-the-good-stuff way. I can’t wait to see Cade, can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees me in my dress, can’t wait for him to become my husband.

  Unfortunately, the nerves that aren’t present in me have completely taken over Tessa. She flits about, making sure everyone’s hairstyles are staying exactly how she wants them, even though I’m pretty sure the fourteen cans of hairspray she used will do the trick. Hair was something I let her have free rein over, obviously. I wasn’t going to tell the hair stylist thanks but no thanks.

  And actually, I let her have free rein over most things, because those items just weren’t important to me. The hairstyles (mine down and loosely curled—just how Cade likes it, she said), bridesmaid dresses (short, strapless, and navy blue), and flowers (sunflowers, white roses, and daisies), were all her suggestions, and I just went along with it.

  Turns out the only thing I really care about is exactly what Cade told me last weekend. As long as the day ends with me being his wife, I’m happy.

  “Holy shit, we’ve only got five minutes,” Tessa says, fussing with another piece of my hair. “Paige!”

  “I’m right here, Captain Crazypants,” Paige says from the couch, flipping through a magazine. “Honestly, this isn’t Kate and Prince William’s wedding. You can chill the fudge sticks out.”

  “What’s that mean, Auntie Paige?” Haley asks from her spot next to Paige, mimicking her as she turns the pages in her own magazine.

  “It means your mom is going cuckoo,” she says, making a silly face at Haley, who dissolves in a fit of giggles.

  Tessa shoots Paige a glare, then turns back to me, adjusting my hair once more and smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles in my dress. “I just want everything to be perfect for you,” she says to me.

  “Is Cade standing out there?” I ask.

  She freezes in what she’s doing and meets my eyes, then steps off to the side and looks out the window into her childhood backyard. I haven’t even seen how they set it up—more of Tessa’s doing—and while I’m excited to see it, as long as Cade is standing at the end of the aisle, I’ll be happy.

  When she turns back to me, she nods, smiling, but her eyes are shiny with tears.

  “Seriously? Are you crying because your brother—the groom—is standing exactly where he’s supposed to be standing?” Paige asks.

  “Shut up,” Tessa says, dabbing at her eyes. “I can’t wait to see what you’re like when you’re walking around with all these crazy hormones.” She waves a hand in the general vicinity of her nearly unnoticeable baby bump, hidden under the flowing fabric of her dress.

  “Gonna have to wait a while for that.” Paige stands and tosses her magazine onto the couch, then plucks Haley’s from her hand before picking up her bouquet. “Showtime, Haley girl. Grab your basket. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The guests are all sitting, their eyes focused on Tessa and Jason, then Paige and Adam walking down the aisle, followed immediately by Haley as she tosses flower petals down. As I step out from the side of the house, I can make out enough of the back yard to see Tessa did an amazing job decorating for our small wedding, keeping it low key and simple while making it absolutely breathtaking.

  The music changes, the notes signaling my entrance, and I take a deep breath. Two dozen guests move to stand in front of white wood folding chairs, set up on either side of a flower petal-strewn aisle. Strings of lights are hung above them, anchored on either side by the massive trees in our backyard, and dozens of small glass bottles filled with sunflowers and daisies hang from the branches.

  The walk to the aisle from the side of the house is the longest seventeen steps of my life. And then I’m there and Cade’s waiting for me at the end and I can’t take my eyes off him. The gray suit fits him impeccably, his broad shoulders filling out the jacket to a distracting degree. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him dressed up, and while I definitely prefer his casual clothes for every day, I can’t deny how hot he looks like this, with just the barest hints of his tattoos peeking out of the collar and cuffs of his tailored dress shirt. His lips part as he looks his fill of me, his gaze sliding down the length of my body encased in white silk before he meets my eyes, and then his lips lift in a smile. It’s a smile that takes my breath away—one that says I’m his whole world. I can’t break away
from his gaze for a second, even to look at the guests who showed up for our special day.

  He’s all I see.

  Instead of waiting for me at the end of the aisle like he’s supposed to, he steps toward me until suddenly he’s right in front of me, and then his hands are cupping my face, his eyes staring down at me.

  “You are beautiful,” he says just before he presses his lips against mine. The kiss is soft and sweet, the hoots, laughter, and clapping of our guests fading into the background as Cade cradles my face like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him and kisses me over and over again.

  “Hey, lovebirds!” Paige says. “The quicker you guys get up here and let this nice man perform the ceremony, the faster you can sneak off and do more of that.”

  Another wave of laughter echoes around us as Cade and I break apart with a smile, then he links my arm through his and walks me the rest of the way down the aisle.

  With his eyes never straying from mine, he tells the officiant, “Get this done as fast as humanly possible, please. I’m ready for her to be my wife.”

  Funny thing . . . I’m finally ready for that, too.

  cade

  Those were the longest hours of my life, being able to touch Winter but not being nearly close enough. It’s well after midnight by the time we’re finally alone, and I’m seconds away from being inside her.

  Or I would be if I could figure out how to get my wife out of this damn dress.

  My wife.

  Jesus, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that, but if the past several hours are any indication, I’m going to say and think it as much as possible just to test the theory.

  “How many fucking buttons are on this thing?” I ask as I fumble with her dress.

  “I told Tessa you’d hate the dress,” Winter says, laughter in her eyes as she looks at me over her shoulder.