Even Wolfe's texts were ignored more and more. David would regularly check her phone to make sure no one was bothering her from the hospital. Sure, she tried explaining that her phone was personal, but when he got upset and subtly suggested she was trying to hide something, she gave in. The consistent texts from Wolfe made David question the whole basis of their relationship. After all, if her best male friend wasn't her future husband, what chance did they have at making a marriage work?
It had made sense at the time. Right? Yet she never really told Wolfe what was going on. She just stopped responding until their communication slowed to a dribble.
Confusion swamped her. She didn't know what was right or wrong anymore. Today had been amazing. She'd forgotten how much fun it was to let the day guide you. Meeting new people without worrying if she was flirting or giving off mistaken vibes. Being silly and impulsive without being gently scolded. It was almost as if she'd escaped from prison.
Was that what she equated David with? Prison? He'd never done anything to hurt her. Never, ever hit her. He'd been patient, and told her every day how much he loved her, lived for her, and dedicated his time to making sure they had a perfect relationship.
"Gen?"
She shivered again. Funny, Wolfe had said her name a million times over the years, but lately it sounded more intimate. A low, sexy growl. Is that how he acted with the women he took to bed? She knew he liked a bit of domination. Did he grip her wrists and whisper in her ear while he pounded inside her, taking her on a wild ride where nothing else mattered but orgasm?
"You're blushing."
Gen grasped her water glass and chugged. She was officially losing her mind. She'd never fantasized about Wolfe in bed before. Not like . . . that. Then again, her emotions were so raw and strange, she shouldn't be surprised. She pulled herself together and forced herself to meet his gaze.
"Just got warm. Wolfe?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
He lifted a brow. "For what?"
"Letting you go." The shock in his blue eyes startled her. So vivid and naked, delving deep inside and plumbing every secret she had. Her thighs tightened as sudden lust struck her right between her legs. "I--I didn't realize what I was really doing. David was angry over our closeness, so I stopped texting you and following through. It seemed easier that way. I started to pull away from the girls, too, but he got focused on you and used to ask if--if we were fooling around. He got mad when you called. I didn't know what to do so I began ignoring you."
He leveled her with his gaze, taking in her halfhearted apology. How awful would she feel if Wolfe suddenly replaced her because his new girlfriend was jealous? She'd be hurt. Angry. Resentful. Not once had he ever spoken badly about David, or gotten pissy with her. All those dates she broke at Mugs, and calls never returned.
The loss of her friend washed over her.
"I understand, sweetheart. I do. Gonna have to be honest here and admit it stung. I felt like I was losing you, but didn't know what to do. What the hell did I know? I never had a serious relationship."
She swallowed past her shame, but once again, with his truth came acceptance. "Can you forgive me?"
"If you promise not to dump me again for the next best thing. Especially Ed."
He smiled, and her heart exploded. She loved his smile. The stark features in his face softened, and she never felt so cherished as when she was receiving such affection. "Never," she whispered.
"Deal."
They finished their food and she pushed her plate away. Time to dive into the only subject left undiscussed. She gathered her courage. "How bad is it?"
Wolfe didn't pretend to misunderstand. "The calls? I told Kate and Alexa we need some time. I turned my phone off this morning."
She winced. "I left everyone with a mess. I'm such a coward."
"If you were a coward, you would've walked down the aisle and married him. Say that again about yourself and I'll have to teach you a lesson."
She choked out a laugh. "Yeah, you're real scary."
"I can be." Their gazes locked and she swallowed. There was another side of her friend leaking out, one she'd never really seen before. It made her a bit uneasy.
And hot.
"I have to go back."
"Of course you're going back. But you needed space so you could figure out why you really left. Let me be clear. You're walking back into a clusterfuck. Questions, accusations, family chaos, and David trying to manipulate you. If you don't have your head clear, you may do something you regret. Go back on your own terms."
She pushed trembling hands through her hair. "I know. I've never done anything like this before. I do the right thing. I don't screw up."
"Life is messy. Get over it."
Her mouth dropped open. Then she laughed. "You so don't have the friendly female touch. I need Kate."
"You need truth. Dig deeper, Gen. I'll be next to you when we get back, but if you need more time, take it. Hell, we can get in the car and head to Lake George. Leave everything behind us."
The thought was so deliciously tempting. A road trip of extremes, like Thelma and Louise. Kind of. No running from the law, of course, but still a buddy movie. "If I did that, I'd probably go to hell. Everybody will hate me."
"Not the ones who matter."
Her mind raced. Could she? Just disappear from the world a few more days, hitting the road in an endless twist of empty highways and the next adventure? Her soul leaped with joy. Yes, she may go to hell. Yes, she was the most horrible person on the planet. But she could do this, buy more time, get her head straight before diving into the mess. She'd call Kate and Alexa tonight and explain. To be anonymous and part of the world without worrying about being beautiful and charming and intelligent. Just to be.
Hope exploded. "You're right," she said, trembling with excitement. "Let's do it. Just a few more days."
He grinned. "That's my girl."
"I'll call home when we get back to the cabin so no one panics."
The waiter placed the bill down, leaned forward to collect the plates, and froze. His gaze roved over her features as if trying to commit them to memory. "You look so familiar. Do we know each other?"
She studied him with a frown. Light hair. Dark eyes. Beautiful olive skin. A bit younger than her, but Gen didn't recognize him. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think so." Wolfe handed him a credit card, which he snapped into place inside the folder.
"Sorry, it's the strangest thing, almost as if I saw you before. I apologize for the intrusion."
"No need." She smiled as he left to ring them up. Wolfe looked amused. "What?"
"Another admirer like the one at the track?"
She rolled her eyes. "Cut it out. Ed was sweet."
"And after you big-time. You know what line his buddies were coaching him with."
"What?"
"Quickest way over a woman is under the next one."
She laughed. "Sounds like something Kennedy would say."
The waiter glided back, set the bill down for Wolfe's signature, and beamed. "Now I know! You're in the paper!"
An icy foreboding slunk into her veins. Her mouth grew dry. "What paper?"
"The Saratoga Herald. You're the runaway bride!"
Wolfe jumped up from the table, threw the signed receipt down, and grabbed her hand. "Keep your mouth shut, buddy, or I'll do more than yank your tip. Understood?"
The waiter gulped, realizing his error, and nodded. "Sorry, sir. So sorry."
Wolfe didn't answer. Her body felt like glue, stuck to the ground and so stiff she couldn't move. Not that she needed to. He wrapped his fingers around her elbow and guided her out, until the hot air rushed over her and she suddenly gulped for oxygen.
"Bend over. Hands on your knees."
She did, gasping for more air, trying to calm her racing heart while the waiter's words burned in her brain. Runaway bride. Newspaper.
Oh, God.
She tried to speak, failed, and finally got out the
words. "Need to see it."
"Gen--"
"Need to see it. Now."
His fingers tightened around her flesh in punishment. The slight pain cut through the panic and centered her, until she was brave enough to unfold and stand at full posture.
"Stay here."
She waited on the darkened sidewalk. The moon shimmered amid the mountain peaks, the blue-black sky a gorgeous streak of art. A couple walked past her, laughing softly, and went inside. Gen wrapped her arms around her chest until he came back out with the paper. He didn't speak, and the worried light in his eyes told her it was bad.
She unfolded it and read the headline:
"Surgeon Scalped at Altar."
Her engagement photo mocked her. Glowing in a white linen suit, hair curled and twisted up in a sophisticated knot, she clasped hands with David, who gazed adoringly into her face.
The picture next to it showed the packed church, endless roses bursting from spaces, glittering candelabras, and her father patting David on the shoulder, who grinned broadly in excitement.
The final photo sealed her fate.
David's broken face reflected back on the page as he exited the church to a blinding array of flashing bulbs, surrounded by reporters thrusting microphones in his face. His eyes looked dazed, as if she'd ripped his heart out and stomped on it.
The world spun. Gen forced herself to skim the article. Phrases leaped out at her in mocking glee.
Renowned surgeon left at altar by his own resident.
Brokenhearted and abandoned, family rallies, refusing to speak to reporters.
Bride climbed through the window and escaped via a guest and her supposed friend. Another lover?
Her body shut down. Hope for the future shriveled like ashes, leaving dark stains and a bitter taste that choked. She'd done the unthinkable, and now it was time to pay.
Gen lifted her gaze. Her voice sounded wooden to her own ears. "Take me home."
He clenched his jaw. "Are you sure? We can still stick to the plan. Get in the car and go."
"Not anymore. It's over, Wolfe. Take me home."
He muttered a vicious curse. Then finally nodded.
She climbed into the car and they sped into the night, her fingers still clutching the paper.
ten
HE'D LOST HER.
Wolfe glanced over. She stared out the window, expressionless, completely removed from the present. He knew where she was, too--an in-between void of numbness and dark space that emptied the soul and left only a husk for earth.
He mourned more than the loss of her presence. In only three days, he'd remembered the joy of being with her, sharing her friendship and laughter, and the person he became around Genevieve MacKenzie.
He didn't try to bring her back. Plenty of time for that later. Instead, he let the music play loud, and closed in on home.
She'd made the necessary calls with his phone, agreeing to meet at her parents' house first thing in the morning. If it had been earlier, they would've waited up, so he was glad she'd be able to have a few more hours alone. Thank goodness David hadn't answered. Her awkward voice mail message made Wolfe wince. He had a gut instinct the man was playing some game with Gen beyond that of a heartbroken dumpee. The only thing Wolfe could do was keep an eye on Gen and make sure she was protected. He drove past the Welcome to Verily sign and crawled down Main Street toward the bungalow. Kennedy and Nate had rented it for a while before deciding to move to a bigger place, so thankfully it was empty. Wolfe wouldn't be surprised if Kate was waiting at the door though. That woman was hard-core mean when it came to protecting her best friend.
The streetlamp flickered as he pulled up to her cheerful yellow house, which looked as happy as she used to be.
"Ready, sweetheart?"
She nodded and climbed out. Grabbing their bags from the trunk, he walked up the curved pavement.
She froze in the doorway. He peered over to study the scene.
The place looked empty. Sure, it was still fully furnished, with the aqua blue sofa and throw cushions, bright watercolors on the walls, braided rugs, and the sturdy pine table that reminded him of Mama Conte's. The curvy metal spiral staircase leading to the tiny loft/attic gave the place a quaint charm. But the space pulsed with a hollow gloom, and a fine sheen of dust covered the surfaces. It had been empty only for a few months, but damned if he didn't get the impression of sadness, as if the place needed human inhabitants in order to be happy.
"I never thought I'd be back here," she said faintly. "I have nothing. No clothes. No laptop. Not even my toothbrush."
He gently pushed her through and shut the door behind them. "That's easily fixed in the morning. Besides, I'm not minty fresh myself. I'll run into town early and get what you need."
"David wanted me to put it on the market. I refused. Not sure why."
He didn't say the truth because they both knew it. She'd sensed something wasn't right between them, and selling her home gave her no exit plan. Wolfe checked the closets and found a set of sheets and blankets. He quickly made the bed while she stood and watched, so exhausted she seemed to sway on her feet. He took her hand, pushed her gently onto the edge of the mattress, and knelt before her. Untying her sneakers, he removed them, giving each foot a quick squeeze, then urged her under the quilt. Her face reflected a childlike trust that made his gut clench and a fierce sense of possession rush through him. Damned if he wouldn't battle anyone in order to protect her. He'd let her go once to another and her heart got trashed.
From now on, any guy would have to get through him first.
Wolfe refused to analyze the emotions beneath the thought. He pulled the tie from her hair so it was loose, and pushed the unruly waves back from her forehead. "Sleep, sweetheart."
He turned to leave but her whisper stopped him.
"Will you stay with me? I'm sorry--I'm such a baby, and a mess, but I'm just--scared."
She blinked furiously, her lower lip trembling. Hell. He didn't like sleeping with anyone because of the nightmares, but he wouldn't leave her alone. Not like this.
Wolfe nodded. Toed off his shoes. Then settled himself on top of the quilt and drew her against him. Her scent swamped him, the sweet scent of daisies, and the pureness of soap. Fresh. Clean.
So unlike him.
She wiggled her butt, settled in, and slowly, her muscles relaxed. He tightened his grip around her waist, soaking in the closeness and body heat that simmered like a campfire. Cursing under his breath, he concentrated on his breathing and tried not to get aroused. He'd kissed many women. Slept with even more. Yet the honest passion she gave him during that one kiss would haunt him forever.
But Gen was his friend. His confidant. His everything.
He'd never ruin it with sex.
Sleep came slowly.
THE NOISES WERE BAD tonight.
Vincent increased the volume and wished he had one of those awesome headsets that canceled out noise. The cheap earbuds and used iPod usually did the trick, but the thin door leaked a constant groaning, thrashing, and creaking of furniture. He knew there was more than one out there tonight. The sound of two males, grunting and yelling phrases at his mother like "Suck it, whore" and "Take it this way" rattled his eardrums and made him sick.
But he'd learned his lesson the last time not to show his face. Even if it was for hours.
He should've escaped into the woods, but it was damn cold and he hadn't been prepared. Usually the men came later, but right after school one had been munching on his cereal, checking him out in that familiar way.
His mother had been getting worse. The powder was now replaced with needles. Her eyes turned mad when she craved her fix, and the men seemed to know they could push her harder. He wasn't sure how long before he might need to run. He had only been able to hide a little over a hundred dollars so far. That wouldn't get him far. He'd heard terrible stories about foster care from his mother, who always warned him to hide their secret or he'd never see her again.
&n
bsp; She had no one else to watch over her. He had to stay. When he got bigger, he'd get them both out, but right now he needed to bide his time.
His skin crawled from the screams. Finally, footsteps came out to the kitchen.
"You said I could get some if I did that," his mother whined. "I did what you wanted. Give it to me."
"Greedy bitch. I'll say when."
Something crashed against the wall. "The night's young. We got more to do."
"Just a little hit. Please."
Low laughter. "Be a good girl and you'll get what you need. Where's that boy of yours?"
"At a friend's."
"Is he in that fucking closet again? Let's get him out to party."
Vincent's heart beat wildly but he remained completely still. Fists pounded on the door. The lock rattled but held. "Hey, boy, come out and play. I got some stuff for you."
"Told you he's not here. Leave him alone, you have me."
A few more minutes of harassing, pounding, and threats. Then a clatter of needles hitting the table. "Ticktock, little boy. One day you're gonna be a man and get your ass out here to help your mother. You hear me, boy?"
His mother said something he couldn't make out. Then there was blessed quiet as they shot up and went back into the bedroom. The noises started up again.
Vincent concentrated on the music, rocked back and forth, and wished he was dead.
He was eleven years old.
eleven
GEN SHOT OUT of bed.
The door banged repeatedly in a nonstop rhythm, getting more and more demanding. What if they were reporters? She glanced over at the empty bed. Where was Wolfe? Had he left for the store? What should she do?
Gen hunkered down, crawled to the living room, and peeked out the side window.
Kate, Kennedy, and Arilyn peered back at her.
"Babe, it's us, let us in!"
She fumbled with the latch, flung open the door, and was engulfed in a tight circle of hugs.
Unfortunately, the numbness and walls she'd built up over the past few days crashed down with a tumble.
She burst into tears.