“Ethan talked about me?”
“Annabelle is kind of a surrogate daughter to my wife and me.”
Not his brother then.
“I'm not really dressed for a wedding, Mr. Heath.”
“From what I've noticed, Brad, anything goes these days. Now pick up that pace a bit, I can hear the ‘Wedding March’ starting.”
He'd travelled a lot in the last two years, been in dangerous situations, slept rough, but nothing terrified Brad more than the prospect of stepping into that church and witnessing the man he'd once called brother marry. A man he hadn't seen in two years, and then it had been an angry, aggressive confrontation.
“It's time, Brad.”
“For what?” They'd stopped at the bottom step.
“For you to make the first move.”
“How do you know that?”
The old man smiled. “I know things, boy. Now up you go, and I'll be behind you.”
He felt it again, the crippling uncertainty of his teenage years, the need to be accepted and loved.
“You got this, son.”
“It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.”
With another chuckle, Walt Heath gave him a firm shove that had him moving. Sucking in a deep breath, Brad wondered if he was about to ruin his brother's wedding day.
Chapter 2
Macy Reynolds stood silently beside her friends as they took their vows in the church she'd first entered as a newborn. Both were tall and ridiculously good-looking, the bride in a cream satin sheath Macy had selected for her, and the groom wearing a black suit with gray waistcoat. Looking at his feet, she saw he had on his favorite cowboy boots.
“I, Annabelle Mary Smith….”
The bride’s voice didn’t waver. Her vows would be delivered clear and strong. Everything about Annabelle was strong, and she would never let anyone control her, unlike Macy, who let far too many people do just that.
So much had changed since she'd stood in this church exchanging vows as her friends were, marrying the man she'd believed loved her. She remembered the heady feeling, the little bubbles of excitement about what the future held. God, what a fool.
“In sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live.”
Beside her, Branna McBride sniffed. Macy and Branna were bridesmaids, and Branna's husband, Jake, and Buster Griffin were groomsmen. All locals, all her friends, all people she loved.
Jake was tall and dark and had eyes only for his wife. Beside him, Buster Griffin was shorter, with a solid, muscled physique. Following his gaze, she found it focused on Willow Harper, the love of his life.
Everyone was getting loved up; only a few of her friends left in Howling were single now. She wasn't jealous, not really. It was just that her marriage had been such a train wreck and she wanted to experience this love too. But then, maybe she couldn't experience it because of what she'd endured. Perhaps she had some kind of defective thing inside her now, and the result was that there would be no deep, everlasting love of the “you are my soul mate, and I would die without you” kind.
A man had tried to get close to her two years ago, seemingly a nice man, and at first she’d been flattered and receptive, and then she'd walked the other way... fast. The panic had come on quickly and left her reeling. She hadn't been ready, and now another two years on, she wasn't sure she ever would be.
Macy let her eyes wander over the guests. Cooper and Zach Smith, Annabelle’s brothers, sat together, looking pleased at what was unfolding. Across from them were Jake’s parents and Branna’s dad. She could go down each row and name everyone if she wanted to. All dressed in their best, to witness the wedding of one of theirs to an outsider, who in ten years just might be considered a local.
Gaze reaching the door, she watched a man slip inside the church. He was tall and had wavy dark hair. Aviators hid his eyes, and something about him made her stomach flutter. Or was that because she hadn’t eaten breakfast?
His jaw clenched as he briefly looked down the church before making for the empty pew at the rear. Jeans, white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket suggested he hadn't been invited to the wedding, but had decided to come anyway.
Was he a wedding watcher? Macy had heard of people who enjoyed that occupation. If she was honest he didn't seem like the kind, even with only a brief glance, who would languish in pews for a hobby.
She shot him another look and the feeling in her stomach had not eased. It was a strange reaction to a man she was sure she’d never met before. Dragging her eyes away, she checked on her son, Billy, who was sitting with Millicent Lawrence, a local, and Willow Harper. Love filled her chest as he gave her a smile. This was all she needed in her life for now, her little boy.
