Riven Knight

by Devney Perry

  “No.” She put up a hand, the dress draping to the grass as she continued walking. “I’ll do it.”

  Presley walked to the altar, nodding at the officiant who stood under the white archway entwined with green vines and white flowers. She squared her shoulders to address the crowd.

  No.

  We all hated Jeremiah, that was no secret. He’d joined the Warriors and had moved to Ashton to be closer to the club. Year after year, he’d strung Presley along. He’d promised they’d get married. We’d all thought it was bullshit, but then six months ago, they’d set a date.

  So here we were, ready to watch her marry a man none of us liked much. She’d already given Dash her notice so she could move to Ashton. He was in denial, refusing to fill her position at the garage until after she’d left town.

  But Presley had made her choice and I’d stuck by her side, even meeting her and Bryce in Bozeman one day to shop for dresses.

  I didn’t want Jeremiah for her, but I didn’t want this either. Not today.

  Presley didn’t deserve this kind of humiliation.

  A flush crept up her face but she kept her chin high. “I’m sorry to inform you all that the wedding has been canceled.”

  A chorus of gasps and whispers filled the air.

  My heart dropped as I searched for Isaiah’s hand. He held my grip tight, his molars grinding. Beside me, Leo cracked his knuckles. Emmett’s fists were white-knuckled on his knees. The fury emanating from Dash as he stood beside Presley was like a heat wave.

  Jeremiah had better not show his face in Clifton Forge for quite some time.

  “Thank you all for coming.” Presley waved a hand to the tent. “Please take your gifts. I can’t—” She shook her head, her eyes turning glassy.

  “I got this.” Dash stepped up. “You go.”

  She nodded and bolted to the side, racing away.

  Isaiah handed me Xander, standing to chase her. Emmett and Leo were right behind him.

  I met Bryce’s worried gaze. “What should we do?”

  “Get these people out of here,” she muttered. “Then either we bring Presley back to the bar, or take the bar to Presley.”

  The guys were way ahead of us. As Bryce, Dash and I ushered guests to the parking lot, Isaiah, Emmett and Leo managed to snag Presley before she could disappear. They hurried her upstairs to the apartment, Leo grabbed a bottle of tequila from the bar, and they proceeded to line up shot after shot for the wounded bride.

  By the time Bryce, Dash and I had taken care of the catering staff, bar staff and deejay, then joined the group in the apartment, Presley was muttering incoherent sentences on the couch, minutes away from passing out. She’d changed into a pair of my lounge pants and a hoodie. She’d cried her mascara down her face.

  “A text,” she slurred. “He did it in a text.”

  So Jeremiah had called it off, as I’d feared. Asshole. “What did his text say?”

  “Hewanz Scarlett.”

  Scarlett? “Who’s . . .”

  Presley’s eyes drifted closed and she was out cold.

  “Okay, never mind,” I muttered.

  “We’ll take her home,” Dash said, handing his suit jacket to Bryce.

  “No, I’ve got her.” Emmett scooped her up in his beefy arms. “You’ve got the boys and their car seats.”

  “I’m going to go find Jeremiah.” Leo stood from the couch where he’d been hovering over Pres. When he walked past me, the smell of alcohol on his breath was staggering.

  “Not tonight.” Isaiah caught him by the arm. “The last thing we need after three years of peace is a fight with the Warriors.”

  Leo grumbled something under his breath, but he nodded. “Fine. Not tonight. But I’m kicking that guy’s ass for doing this to her.”

  My face paled, something Isaiah noticed instantly.

  No. We’d gone so long without trouble, and I didn’t want to invite it back into our lives. As much as I would like to see Jeremiah suffer for breaking Presley’s heart, I didn’t want revenge enough to risk our safety again.

  “Leo, I’m driving your drunk-ass home,” Dash said.

  Thankfully, Leo didn’t argue. He just tossed an arm around Bryce’s shoulders and made a face that sent Xander into a fit of hysterics.

  Zeke had fallen asleep on my shoulder thirty minutes ago.

  “See you guys on Monday.” Dash took Zeke from me, bending to kiss my cheek. Then he opened the door for everyone to file out.

  When it clicked behind him, I blew out a deep breath, walking into Isaiah’s arms. “That was bad.”

  “She’ll be okay. Better this than a nasty divorce.”

  “Yeah.” I closed my eyes. “I was looking forward to dancing with you tonight.”

  He lifted my hand, holding tight to the small of my back, then spun us in a circle. I smiled as he slowed and swayed us back and forth, the only music our beating hearts.

  It was home. Here in this apartment, in his arms, was home.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Isaiah stopped dancing.

  I’d found out two days ago and had stalled telling him because of the move. But now that we were here, now that we were home, it was time.

  Isaiah and I had talked about having kids. We were both nervous about becoming parents, Isaiah more so than me. He had this lingering doubt that he didn’t deserve the love of a child.

  But he knew I wanted to be a mother. Deep down, he wanted to be a father. So we’d decided to wait until after school, and I’d gone off the pill two months ago.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  I nodded.

  He took my face in his hands. And smiled. “I love you, doll.”

  Isaiah’s eyes had been so haunted once. So dark and lifeless. Tonight, they were as bright as stars. My husband. My life.

  “I love you too.”

  The Tin Gypsy series continues with Stone Princess.

  Download the Riven Knight Bonus Epilogue

  https://dl.bookfunnel.com/bwv5ply3v2

  Preview to Stone Princess

  Please enjoy this preview to Stone Princess, book three in the Tin Gypsy series.

  PRESLEY

  That’s today?

  That’s today.

  That’s today.

  There were only so many ways to interpret two words. Only so many ways to alter their meaning with various inflections.

  that’s today

  No matter how many times I’d spoken Jeremiah’s text aloud, none of the options held appeal. The bastard hadn’t even bothered with a question mark or period to alleviate some confusion.

  The ugly words jumped off my phone’s screen, and I snarled as I shut it down. There was no point reading them over and over and over again. I’d been doing it constantly since Saturday.

  Those two words were the last in our thread. He’d sent them the morning of our wedding—the wedding he’d forgotten. Jeremiah hadn’t texted a panicked apology. He hadn’t called me endless times to fill my voicemail with excuses. He hadn’t driven the three hours from Ashton to Clifton Forge to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness.

  His text might as well have read the end.

  Well, fuck him. Fuck his text. Fuck all the years I’d wasted on a man who claimed to love me but didn’t have a damn clue how to show it. I wouldn’t even get the satisfaction of breaking up with him face-to-face. Or maybe standing me up on our wedding day had been his chicken-shit way of breaking up with me.

  After calling off the wedding Saturday, I’d spent yesterday in tears, nursing a broken heart and a raging hangover. Presley Marks was not a woman who cried easily. I’d given up on tears at a young age because they only earned me another slap. But yesterday, I’d let them fall freely.

  I’d cried for being so damn stupid. And pathetic. And alone. And humiliated.

  How many times had my friends warned me about Jeremiah? How many times had I defended him? How many times had I looked at my naked ring finger, deluding myself that I didn’
t need an engagement ring when a wedding band was the real prize?

  The sting in my nose threatened more pitiful tears, but I sniffed it away, blinking rapidly before a stray tear could ruin my mascara. Then I shoved my phone into my purse and pushed open the door of my Jeep. The white paint gleamed, reflecting the early morning sunshine.

  I’d had it cleaned and detailed last week. I’d wanted it to sparkle when Jeremiah and I drove away from the wedding reception. I’d wanted the interior spotless when we drove it to Ashton.

  Today was supposed to be moving day.

  The majority of my belongings were in boxes, and I’d reserved a U-Haul trailer. I’d signed a lease on an apartment in Ashton because Jeremiah had been temporarily bunking at his motorcycle club’s clubhouse—for three years.

  Stupid, Presley. So damn stupid. I’d been so busy planning how to merge our lives into one that I hadn’t noticed my fiancé was perfectly content living apart.

  Maybe I should have stayed home and dealt with the fallout today. I had a landlord to contact and numerous deposits to lose. Instead, I’d followed my normal Monday morning routine and driven to work, detouring to swing by the grocery store and shove my thousand-dollar wedding dress into the clothes donation bin.

  The Clifton Forge Garage had been my constant for the past ten years, and today, I needed the familiar. I unlocked the office door and slipped inside, flipping on the lights before settling in behind my desk and taking a moment to revel in the silence.

  I’d come in an hour earlier than normal and the quiet wouldn’t last. Soon, there’d be tools clanking in the shop, customers chatting in the waiting area and phones ringing in the office. But for now, it was peaceful.

  I drew in a deep breath, searching for Draven’s scent. He’d died over three years ago, but there were times when I could still smell him. Maybe it was only my imagination conjuring a hint of Old Spice and a breath of mint swirling in the air.

  When I’d woken up this morning, I’d known the wedding fallout was mine alone to handle, so that was exactly what I’d do. One step at a time, day by day, I’d survive.

  At least the hardest part was over. I’d already marched down the aisle to tell the wedding guests that my fiancé had forgotten about our big day. The rest would be easy, right? It was simply logistics. Bartenders and caterers would be paid. By me. Gifts that hadn’t been collected would be returned. By me. My life would go on and one day, it wouldn’t hurt as much to know that my fiancé hadn’t wanted to marry me.

  But could I really blame Jeremiah? This was my own fault. I’d been deaf to the truth and blind to the signs. I should have ended this engagement years ago. Maybe I was just as much a coward as Jeremiah.

  Burying those thoughts, I rattled the mouse beside my keyboard, waking up my computer. Then I dove into my email inbox and tried to get ahead for the day.

  Once the garage crew knew I was here and not wallowing at home, they’d swarm the office. They’d hover over me all day, checking to make sure I wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. I wouldn’t get shit done because I’d be busy maintaining a brave face and listening to them curse Jeremiah up one side and down the other. I’d tell them I was fine—which they’d know was a lie.

  I hadn’t been fine in a long, long time.

  There were only three unread emails to go when footsteps echoed outside. The metal staircase that extended to the apartment above the office vibrated as Isaiah, one of our mechanics and my friend, came downstairs.

  I took a deep breath and spun my chair to face the door as it opened. “Morning.”

  “Hey, Pres.” Isaiah stepped inside, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt. His short brown hair was damp. He crossed the room and sat in a chair across from my desk, leaning his elbows on his knees.

  “It’s good to see you in that chair,” I said.

  He grinned. “It’s good to be sitting here again.”

  Isaiah and his wife, Genevieve, had been living in Missoula for the past three years while she’d gone to law school. Now that they were back, Isaiah would be working at the garage again, and Genevieve would be working alongside her mentor at a small law firm in town.

  “How’s Genevieve?”

  “Good.” He cast his glance to the ceiling. “She’ll be down soon. She’s excited for her first day back at work.”

  “How was it staying in the apartment again?”

  “Like old times. Don’t tell Genevieve, but I’m hoping the contractor is behind a couple weeks so we can crash upstairs a little while longer.”

  Years ago, that apartment had been their home, and it hadn’t been rented out in the years that they’d been gone. Like their jobs, it had been waiting for them to return. Except this time, they wouldn’t be calling it home. The two of them had bought a new house in a quiet neighborhood and would be moving in soon.

  Still, no matter how much time passed, I’d always consider the apartment Isaiah’s.

  “I’m excited to see your new place.”

  “You can have the first tour.” His grin widened.

  I studied his face. It was strange to see Isaiah smile, but a welcome strange. He’d changed a lot from the tortured soul who’d started working here years ago.

  Genevieve deserved all the credit. She’d rescued my friend and brought life back to his eyes. She’d worked a miracle in that little studio apartment.

  “What?” He ran a hand over his mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “No. It’s just good to see you happy.”

  He sighed, the grin fading. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” That was the first one of the day. I’d likely repeat it twenty times before I left at five. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay.”

  Isaiah would be the only one who didn’t push today. I could hug him for it.

  The two of us had formed a fast friendship from the beginning, the only two outsiders working at a garage staffed by former members of the Tin Gypsy Motorcycle Club. Before Isaiah, I’d ignored the hushed conversations alone. I’d dutifully gone to the post office or bank whenever my presence hadn’t been wanted in the office. I’d overlooked the parties and booze and women.

  But then the club had disbanded and life at the garage had changed. They’d hired Isaiah, and when the others whispered about secrets, Isaiah and I had each other.

  We’d drink coffee together every morning. We’d talk about nothing. I wouldn’t ask him about his past or why he’d spent three years in prison. He wouldn’t ask me how I’d come to Clifton Forge and why I refused to speak of my childhood. Yet we were friends. I trusted him.

  And it was good to have him home.

  “How are things at the garage?” he asked.

  “Busy. We had to hire two mechanics to cover what you did on your own.”

  His forehead furrowed. “I’m not taking anyone’s job by coming back, am I?”

  “No. Dash and I talked and we’re keeping them both on to do the routine stuff so you can apprentice on the custom work.”

  “I’m happy to do the oil changes and tune-ups.”

  I waved him off. “It’s already decided.”

  Isaiah stood and walked into the waiting room. The clank and pop of a K-Cup slotting into the coffee machine drifted my way.

  The space as a whole had two enclosed offices along with the reception area where I sat. One of the offices belonged to Dash, the owner of the garage and my boss. The other had been Draven’s—Dash’s father.

  Draven had managed the garage his entire life, passing it down to Dash. He’d been more than my boss, he’d been my family. I’d gladly give up every one of my material possessions to have him back for a hug this morning or to have had him with me on Saturday, walking me down the aisle.

  After Draven had died, Dash had offered me Draven’s office. It had a door so I wouldn’t have to sit out front with waiting customers, but I hadn’t been able to sit behind Draven’s desk.

  No one, especially me, would ev
er take his place.

  So we’d converted that office into a waiting room. We’d brought in couches and set up a coffee station.

  Isaiah came out with two steaming mugs in his hand.

  “Thanks.” I smiled as he set down my cup. I spun the swirl stick, mixing the packet of sugar he’d poured in and the dollop of French vanilla creamer floating on top. “And thanks for Saturday.”

  He lifted a shoulder, sipping his black coffee. “No problem.”

  On Saturday, after I’d announced the wedding canceled, I’d tried to run away. Isaiah had caught me before I’d been able to get into the Jeep and disappear into a black hole. He’d dragged me to the apartment upstairs before anyone could see. Emmett and Leo, two more mechanics and my friends, hadn’t been far behind. Leo had snagged a bottle of tequila from the bar. The three of them had fed me shot after shot until I’d passed out on the couch.

  “I suppose I have a mess to clean up out back,” I muttered.

  “I think Dash and Bryce took care of most of it.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head. “Damn. They should have just left it for me.”

  How many hours had I spent planning this wedding? How many favors had I called in from my friends? What a waste.

  My friends shouldn’t have had to clean up my mess too.

  There was a field behind the garage and I’d always thought it had the potential to rival any city park, so I’d asked Dash if I could clean it up and host the wedding there. Draven hadn’t been there to walk me down the aisle, but what better place to include his memory than the garage that had been his business for so many years?

  Dash had agreed, insisting that I let everyone help with cleanup. We’d spent three backbreaking weekends working in that field, clearing away the shop’s overflow. Spare rusted parts were moved to the other end of the property. Old cars were pushed out of sight. The overgrown grass was cut, revealing a lush green carpet beneath.

  On Thursday and Friday, we’d set up the white tent, rolled in tables and placed chairs. Too busy doing the decorations, I hadn’t planned a rehearsal dinner. Skipping that dinner had been my biggest mistake—besides picking the groom. Maybe if we’d had the dinner, I would have known Jeremiah wasn’t going to show.