Love Me Always
Copyright © 2015 by Michelle Lynn
Visit my website at www.michellelynnbooks.com
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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are either fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editor:
Nichole Strauss, Perfectly Publishable
Proofreader:
Emma Mack at Ultra Editing Company
Cover Design:
Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Cover photo: © Shutterstock.com
Interior Design and Formatting:
Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Love Me Always
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Love Surfaced Excerpt
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Books by Michelle Lynn
To all The Invisibles faithful readers. Thank you for loving the gang as much as me.
Brady
THE MARRIAGE PAPERWORK sits on my lap while I admire my fiancée. Her slim finger twirling her long blonde hair as she studies the paperwork I’ve already filled out. Truth is, I don’t give a shit about a damn certificate. All I care is she’s promised to live her life by my side. But she’s hell bent on having this big wedding. One day that’s hijacked our lives for over a year now.
“Brady.” Her green eyes peer up to me, aggravation vivid. “What did you put down for line thirty-five?”
I glance down at my sheet. “Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes and scribbles something down, huffing out a breath of air.
Isn’t this moment of us filling out our paperwork to get our marriage certificate supposed to be bursting with love? Not me resenting her from the fight we had this morning. Damn, she told me the band couldn’t play during the reception because people would think we were immature. What the fuck? The band is one of the reasons she fell so hard for me two years ago. It’s bad enough that we barely play anymore. With everyone cuddled up with someone, a few with kids, we’re like the “has beens” at the bars most of the time. But for my wedding, I want to jump on that stage and play for her. Ever since I proposed to her, I’ve imagined her sitting on a chair in a white dress, her eyes lovingly gazing into mine while I serenade her. Now she says no? What a crock of shit. Not that I’ve told her my reasoning for playing, that would ruin the surprise.
“Brady Carsen . . . Sadie Miller.” The clerk calls our names and I wait for Sadie to bundle her papers up.
“That’s us.” Sadie’s voice is ten times more chipper than she’s been toward me in the last six months.
The older lady’s eyes examine the paperwork and her fingers hammer the information into the computer. A few loud, hard stamps and she pushes them back our way.
“That’s it?” Sadie asks as I lean against the wall, caring less about any of this legal crap.
“Yes. You need to have the official sign it and mail it in to us. You’ll get your marriage certificate in the mail.”
“Thanks,” Sadie mumbles, obviously thinking this moment would entail more. I did too.
We walk away with the paperwork in our hands and annoyance piles in my blood. Another check off on her to-do list; she should be happy but she’s not from her stiffened back.
Silence fills the elevator, continuing on our way to the parking garage. And nothing but stale air all the way to the car. I round the back of my car to open the passenger door for her. She climbs in with a meager, “Thank you.”
I settle into my own seat and start up my Camaro. The next thing she’ll ask me to get rid of is the car I love. I pay for the parking and set out on to the streets of Akron. She busies herself on her phone doing God knows what. Probably another stupid wedding task.
Once we arrive back in Western, we pass by the hill I was sitting on when I first laid eyes on her. The parking lot where I told her about my dad. The bar where we spent Halloween night and finally Aces, the place I first played for her. The tires swerve onto our street and the thought of going home uproots a bitter taste in my mouth. Those walls of my childhood home saw ugliness until she found me. Now it doesn’t linger with dread when I walk through that back door. At least it didn’t until recently.
Instead of slowing down at our driveway, I speed up and pass our house.
“What are you doing?” Her head whips around so fast, a blonde strand of hair sticks to her lips.
“We’re going somewhere.”
I have no idea where. I could take her to any one of the places I just re-lived on memory lane moments ago, but I’m not sure she’ll even come around and tell me the truth of why she’s placed our wedding above us. She’s transformed before my eyes since the minute I proposed and it’s fucked me up. Actually, it’s fucked us up.
“Brady. I have to do the seating chart.” Her back straightens in the cloth seat and she crosses her legs.
“It will still be there in an hour.”
She releases a huff and twists toward the window.
Five minutes go by and I’m still trying to think of a place to take her where she’ll remember why we’re getting married. It worries me that we’re too far gone now from that point where all we cared about was us and our future together.
I park along the curb of downtown Western and she eyes where we’ve ended up.
“We’re going to eat,” I tell her.
I don’t wait for her agreement; instead, I climb out of my Camaro and round the front of the car. I open her door and she quietly climbs out and stands in front of me with major attitude written all over her body—arms crossed, hip jutted out. Makes me want to take her home and screw that attitude out of her.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Bull shit.” I drag her by the hand into The Loft. Shit, I might even have a drink today.
She sits across from me, her head consumed by that damn phone. I wonder if she’s dealing with shit for the wedding. We’re just over a week out, so there isn’t much more to do.
“Why is this wedding so damn important?” I take a sip of the Coke placed in front of me. At least I’m not at drinking capability yet. Yet being the keyword.
“It’s our wedding.” Her eyes leak sadness and my stomach grips. How am I supposed to rain on her damn parade? Or in this case, wedding.
“I get that, baby, but it’s been a thorn in my side since I proposed.”
“What?” She sits back in the booth and her eyes well up.
“That’s not what I meant. I proposed to you because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Okay. I’m not following, Brady.” Her fingers knot together on top of the table.
“I want to marry you, and I’d do it in a courthouse, on a beach, or in front of millions.”
“We only have three h
undred guests.”
Two hundred and eighty too many.
“Exactly my point. We didn’t need to invite the whole engineering department, or the psychology grad class of 2015.” I close the space, denying the urge to hold her hands.
She shakes her head and her eyes dart around the room.
“I don’t give a shit about dresses, tuxedos, appetizers, cocktails. All I care is that you’ll be walking down the aisle right to me. Am I not enough?”
“Not enough?” She honestly appears surprised by my question.
“Yes.” I reach across the wooden planked table and she graces me with her hands. Her touch is addicting and calms me instantly. Tightening the link of our hands, I stare into her eyes, hoping she sees my sincerity. “Am I enough for you? If I asked you to marry me today. Just you and me. With no one else to witness. What would you say?”
My pulse quickens waiting for her to answer the question that’s plagued me numerous nights. My nerves are worse than when I asked her to marry me as I wait for her to answer. I have to know if it’s the wedding she wants so badly or me.
“How could you ask that? Yes.” Her chest inches closer to me over the table and I entwine our fingers together.
“Good.” I stand and toss a few bills on the table. “Let’s go.”
She sits there stunned into silence. Fear etched in her face that I’m calling her bluff.
She accepts my hand and slides out of the booth. “Where are we going?” Her voice shakes, even with her trying to hide the fear swimming in her eyes.
“I have to go to the baseball game.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. “Do you want me to drop you off at home, or do you want to come?”
I escort her out to my car. Things aren’t peachy keen between us yet, but enough for me to honor my commitment to Matty. Sadie takes time to process things and she’ll talk to me later tonight or tomorrow about the real issue with her wanting the big ass wedding.
“Drop me off at Jessa’s.” She climbs into my car and I shut the door behind her. Our relationship is off. She feels it. I feel it. We aren’t the couple we’ve matured to be the last two years. I refuse to marry her with us in this limbo state. Hopefully, this conversation will spur Sadie to think things through and finally supply me with what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.
I DROP SADIE off at Jessa’s with a short kiss to her cheek.
“Do you mind if I hitch a ride?” Grant, my best friend and step-brother climbs in before I even answer. Sadie waves from the window with Addy, Grant and Jessa’s daughter, in her arms. She appears so natural and at ease now, it’s hard to remember her shaky arms the first time she held that little girl almost a year ago.
I pull away from the curb, my tires sharply turning around the corner.
“Maybe I should have driven myself.” Grant grips the car handle. “You want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Good.” He loosens his hold once we’re around the bend and stares out the window.
We arrive to the field with a half hour before the game. Rob’s already out on the diamond with Matty, practicing fielding the ball. Paige sits on the bleachers, basking in the last of sun before fall really hits us. They’ve really become the little family recently. I grab my coat from the backseat and Grant runs out to the field, swooping Matty into his arms.
“It’s game day! Are you ready?” Grant yells.
Matty screams and his arms flail around in the air.
That sports junkie Grant shines through each game.
“What’s up?” I lower my hat over my eyes when I approach Rob. He has a sixth sense of knowing when something’s wrong.
“Nothing. Why are you so . . .” he trails off and I hope he let’s it go. “Sulky.” I guess not.
“Just wedding shit.” I tip my hat lower and move over to the dugout. The best thing about Rob—he doesn’t continue to ask questions.
I busy myself with the equipment and before I notice, the whole team is here. The parents are opening up their chairs and some are mingling around the bleachers. When Rob asked us to coach Matty’s baseball team, I was hesitant, but it’s been fun. Especially doing it with the guys. T-ball has replaced our band practices.
Trey, our drummer, drops off his daughters, Chloe and Tara, with Paige before slowly walking toward us. The minute his feet step onto the dirt you can sense he changes. That baseball player from high school emerges and the permanent smile plastered to his face for the next hour shows how happy he is to be on the field again. If only Chloe or Tara would have liked to play. Sadly for Trey, they both said no.
Trey claps his hands and the boys circle around him. Grant, Rob, and I stand on the outside. I look around the park for Dex, but it’s not uncommon for him to run late. Figures the only other one without a kid besides myself can’t show up on time.
We win the game twenty to eighteen. The score was figured in my head, since we aren’t allowed to actually have a winner or loser. Stupid new shit. The game kept my mind from my problems for the past hour. The kids scurry off with their juice boxes and goldfish to their parents. I plop down on the bench in the dugout, emotionally exhausted with this wedding shit. The thought of going home is similar to scratching my eyes out. Well, that might be an exaggeration.
“What’s the new development today?” Grant sits down on the aluminum bench.
My feet kick the dirt. “Wedding.”
He doesn’t say anything. Anyone who’s been around Sadie and I lately feels the stress. I haven’t been able to keep my displeasure at bay.
“A little over a week.”
I don’t even bother to acknowledge it. It should be a countdown to my damn wedding. It’s supposed to be the happiest time of my life. I concentrate on watching Matty out on the field; Chloe and Tara scurry around and pick up balls as Trey hits them. Trey’s just about ready to hit another ball when his vision catches me. He hits it and then huddles the kids together. They all run over to me, wrapping their arms around my body. Their small arms swarm me with warmth and Trey’s laughing his ass off on the field. Sadly, even my faux niece and nephews can’t pull me from this funk today.
“We’re going to the park, Uncle Brady.” Chloe screeches in my ear.
They run over to the slides and monkey bars sectioned off not too far away from the field.
“CHLOE!” Trey screams. She turns on her heels. “Stay there and watch your sister.”
She nods as the three of them race to get there first.
I stand and swing my keys around my finger. An internal debate weighs inside of me on whether I should leave or not. “I’m going to head out.” See how I deliberately didn’t say home?
Trey swings his arm around my neck and puts me in a headlock. “Nah, we’re going to the park.” His knuckles rub along my skull.
“I’d rather leave.”
“I’d rather get laid every night, but those days are long gone.” Trey, Grant and Rob laugh. Paige hits Rob in the stomach and he pulls her closer to him. They’re still in that happily-ever-after phase. When you don’t see your relationship as anything but perfect. I miss those times.
“I guess I’ve got one up on you.” I joke, even though Sadie and I haven’t really been all into it lately.
Dex’s truck comes to a screeching halt and he jumps out. Chrissy casually climbs out, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, guys. Shit. We . . . I got caught up.”
Chrissy’s cheeks flame red from embarrassment and she slyly cozies up to Paige.
“I guess someone’s getting laid,” Trey says and I’m pretty sure each of us is jealous of Dex and Chrissy’s carefree life.
“You’re the worst assistant coach ever.” Rob knocks him in the shoulder, but Dex doesn’t budge. Hence the nickname, Hulk.
“I promise, I won’t be late again.”
Rob rolls his eyes. “Doubtful,” he mumbles.
“Can I have your keys?” Paige holds her hands out to Rob.
He looks down at her empty hand and back to her. She smiles and moves it closer to him. He digs into the pockets of his ripped jeans. “Here.”
She leans over and kisses his cheek.
“Where are you going?” he calls out to her and Chrissy, who are escaping to his Mustang.
“We’re going over to Jessa’s.” She digs into the backseat and tosses Matty’s booster seat into the bed of Dex’s truck.
“Um . . . it’s my house too,” Grant calls out, but the girls shut the doors and drive off.
“Let’s all say a small prayer that car returns to me scratch-free.” Rob bends down on one knee as though he’s praying.
While Rob acts dramatic and Dex still catches his breath from his sexcapade, Trey and Grant’s eyes fixate on me.
“Talk.” Grant’s stance widens and he crosses his arms. Does he think those big biceps intimidate me?
“I’m not about to have some heart to heart with you.” I pick at the wood chips scattered across the bench.
“Get over it. Tell me what the hell is going on. You’ve been moping around.” Grant sits down next to me and the rest of the guys circle around in front of me.
“I’m thinking about calling off the wedding.” It’s amazing how freeing that sounds. I’ve kept it bottled up for so long.
“No way,” Dex murmurs, and if my eyes veered up from the ground, I guarantee I’d find all their eyes pinging to one another’s.
“Why?” Trey asks, but there’s hesitation in his voice.
“She’s marrying me for the wrong reasons.”
I look up at their stunned faces. “She wants this elaborate wedding with tons of people that know nothing about us. This is nothing I want.”
“Why don’t you talk to her?” Grant joins me in shredding a wood chip in two. Both our heads focused down, as though we aren’t having a true conversation about feelings. Guys suck at emotions.
“I have. There’s some reason she wants this grand wedding thing, but she hasn’t told me anything. Until then, I’m seriously considering calling the whole damn thing off.” I throw my wood chip across the sidewalk. I’d like to throw something a hell of a lot bigger right about now.
Love Me Always (The Invisibles) Page 1