I try to breathe as I turn my head toward the crowd, looking for the confirmation I need for what I’m about to do.
He came.
Lake.
He’s seated next to his brother, and I see Beau’s eyes widening as he looks at Lake.
He knows.
Lake knows.
And thank God for that because I’m about to make headlines like Wintervale’s never seen before.
Hours pass in the span of a few seconds as I turn back to Carter. I want to tell him I’m sorry—that it never should have gotten this far—but I can’t.
Go.
I don’t know if the word is a whisper in my mind or if it’s Carter’s sister, but it doesn’t matter. Clutching my dress in my hands, I turn toward the aisle andrun.
Noises sound all around me but no one tries to intervene.
Lake is only a few steps ahead of me, pushing doors open as we race toward the exit. Resort guests and workers gape at us as my heels echo on the tile floor, the weight of my dress doing nothing to slow me down.
I gasp when we finally reach the outside, the frigid air instantly chilling my heated skin.
“This way,” Lake calls, weaving his way through the rows of cars before unlocking a massive black pickup and throwing open the door.
There’s no way I can climb up there, but Lake doesn’t give me a second to worry as his hands snake around my waist, lifting me up into the seat and jamming all the fabric inside before slamming the door.
People are starting to pour out of the front of the resort as Lake jumps inside the cab and slams the truck into drive, the tires screeching on the pavement as he hits the gas.
“Where to?” he asks, his gaze bouncing between me and the road.
“Anywhere but here.”
3
PEN
“Where are we going?” I ask now that I have the circulation back in my toes. My engagement ring is in the cupholder of Beau’s truck and I have no intention of moving it.
Unless Carter wants it back—then he can have it.
I can’t imagine it means anything to him, not for sentimental reasons at least. The Haneses are new money, Carter’s father having hit it big in clean energy, shaking hands and kissing babies before it really took off. Some people here said he had insider information, but as far as I knew it was all talk. They’d let Carter graduate in Wintervale before moving to Bozeman, and I’d willingly followed him to the city for college.
We’d planned our life together.
New places.
New opportunities.
But none of it wasme.
Carter’s mother was a different story. Siobhan Hanes acted like she was making up for lost time, getting her hands on all the invitations and attending the most lavish events. The wholething made my skin feel too tight, my small-town roots unwilling to be buried beneath my designer clothes.
“My cabin,” Lake says, his truck bouncing over the road as we wind through the backwoods of Montana.
“Your cabin?” I ask, surprised, not because I don’t want to, but because I was never allowed. Lake never hid the fact that he didn’t like Carter, but Lake was also clear that he would never disrespect him by bringing me here.
