“You aren’t here to play, Rawls,” she comments at my lack of pulling rock, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I’m here to win.” I wink.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” She pulls paper, and I pull rock. I stuck with the usual flow while she changed her game up.
“Match point,” I whisper, my voice low and husky. I can’t wait to win this.
We’re preparing for the final round when Hadley’s phone rings. The ballroom had become so quiet that the soft volume of her phone seems to surround us. She groans and slips the phone from her pocket and answers the call.
Wait, that dress has pockets?
“Kind of in the middle of something,” she barks at the person on the other end of the line. I watch as her face transforms from irritation, to shock, to panic. “Okay, I’ll see how fast I can make it back.” She clicks the phone off.
Clearing her throat, she glances at all the faces watching us. Some are people we know from back home and others are perfect strangers. She turns to Mary Anne, whispers something in her ear, then gives her a tight hug.
“Go,” Mary Anne says. “Text me with an update when you can.”
With that, Hadley grabs my hand and pulls me out of the ballroom.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hadley
Why,why, did I not tell Braxton about Mama earlier? If I had, I wouldn’t be in this stupid, sour pickle. I let out a breath, then two. He’s going to hate me…
“I need a HUGE favor,” I begin, still catching my breath from bolting out of the wedding reception, Braxton in tow. I release his hands and take a step back, staring down at my black toeless heels. Braxton doesn’t respond, so I continue. “That was Lorelai. Mama is in the hospital. She apparently took some drug from an inmate, and now she is unconscious and fighting for her life.”
“Inmate? Was she back in prison?” Braxton finally speaks up. I simply nod, still refusing to meet his gaze. He clears his throat before speaking again. “How long has she been there?”
Here goes the conversation I was so desperately trying to avoid the same way I dodge chicken on bread. “She was arrested the day before we left. I didn't want to deal with it and figured she could wait until we got home for me to bail her out…again.” I should use this red color on my nails more often. It matches my favorite lipstick perfectly.
“Hadley.” Just the way he says my name has guilt burrowing into my stomach like carpenter bees creating holes for their eggs in the wooden poles of my porch back home. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have worked something out. You know Brandi could have—”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” I interrupt, finally dragging my eyes up to his. I can’t take his sorrowful, let-me-help-you tone. “You are always trying to help. Trying to butt up in my business. Mama ismybusiness, not yours.” Why can’t he see that? Braxton doesn’t deserve to have to deal with my issues. His sympathy only makes me feel inferior to him and his perfect family and perfect life.
He stares at me, blinking once, then twice, as if he can’t believe the words I’m saying right now. But I can’t seem to stop.
“I’ve got to go home and take care of this. Whether I agree with Mama or not, she is my only living relative that I know. Unlike you, I don’t have the perfect mother, or father, or a sibling. I don’t have anyone, for that matter, who carries my same blood and DNA that would give a rat’s booty about me.” At my words, the giant of a man before me seems to grow small. His green eyes shine bright through a veil of water as he runs a hand through perfectly gelled and tousled onyx hair.
“Okay,” he says in barely a whisper. “Let’s go grab our things then.”
More guilt gnaws at me. “I’m flying back home. I need to get there as fast as possible. Just in case she…” I trail off, not able to finish that sentence. I love my mama, no matter her sins and wrongdoings. She’s my only blood, besides Grandmama, who has loved me. A twisted, selfish love, yes. But nonetheless, she’s all I have.
“And you need me to drive you to the airport, then drive the truck and our stuff home.” He finishes describing my unasked favor that I need.
“I’ll take a rideshare to the airport. I’m sorry. Please, I’ve got to go.” I soften my voice, the pain I’ve caused him clear as day on his handsome face. But that’s what I do. I self-destruct. And Braxton needs—deserves—so much better. He nods, and I take a step closer to him and tilt my head up, hoping for one last kiss before the inevitable. He turns his head away at my attempt, and I shrink down to the size of an ant.
Without another look, I turn on my heel and make a beeline for my room while ordering the soonest plane ticket home. Thankfully, there is a plane with an extra seat leaving for Jackson, Mississippi, in two hours with only a thirty-three minute layover in Atlanta for a connecting flight. I buy the last ticket, once again thankful that I had saved a decent nest egg and was conservative with my spending habits after college.
I make it to my room, becoming a raging storm the way I move about it, picking up my messiness and throwing things into my suitcase and other bags at random. I pack my laptop backpack with necessities for travel; I’ll leave the rest for Braxton in his room.
Only moments later, I have my bags packed, sweatpants and Braxton’s black t-shirt that I stole yesterday on, and running shoes laced on my feet. I open the door to leave the hotel room and run smack into Braxton’s chest, dropping the luggage I was planning to bring to his room and shoving my braced wrist against his rock hard abs.Holy ouch.
“You’re not getting a rideshare. I’m taking you to the airport.” His voice is monotone and his expression glazed over.
“You don’t have to—”
“Stop talking,” he says in that same, formal voice. “You can take the plane home by yourself. I’ll drive myself back home. But I’m taking you to the airport.”
