Page 67 of Breaking His Exile

Oh, God.

A wedding.

The one they’d heard about on the radio.

They’d crashed a wedding.

Embarrassment flashed through her. She was standing in someone’s perfect day with blood on her hands and a man who’d nearly died on their lawn, and the cake hadn’t even been cut.

She spotted the bride coming toward her—a woman in an elegant blush-colored dress, her dark hair swept up into some kind of updo with tiny white flowers woven through it. The groom followed. He was tall, blond, with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and a kid up on his shoulders. The boy’s hair was a mess, his little suit rumpled, and his eyes were wide as bottle caps. The way he was bouncing on his dad’s shoulders made it clear this was the best day of his life.

The kid pointed at her and said, in a voice that rang out across the lawn, “Is she a zombie?”

“Oliver,” the bride chided.

“But, Mom, she looks like one!”

The bride pointed at her new husband. “This is your fault, you know. I told you that movie was a bad idea.”

The man had the grace to look sheepish. “Aw, he loved it.”

“Yeah, Mom. I loved it!”

She poked a finger at her husband’s chest. “You’re dealing with the nightmares.”

As they approached, Rainey tried to look less like she had a crime scene on her shirt, but the best she could do was cross her arms to hide the worst of it. “I-I am so sorry for ruining your wedding. I didn’t— we didn’t know.”

The bride reached for her hand. Her palm was streaked with Evander’s blood, dried and fresh both, and the woman took it between both of hers without flinching.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Her voice was warm. “My name’s Nessie. This is my husband, Jax, and our son, Oliver.” She squeezed Rainey’s hand. “We’re so glad you’re here and safe.”

Rainey opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Thankfully, Nessie saved her from imitating a fish again by adding, “You’re River’s sister, so you’re as good a family as far as I’m concerned. He was so worried about you.”

“River has a zombie sister?” The boy, Oliver, looked at her like he was simultaneously impressed and grossed out by the blood all over her.

She had a brief, dizzy memory of River at that age, watching their dad gut a salmon in the old kitchen sink and asking, “Does it hurt?” and their dad pointing the knife at him and asking, “Want to find out?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and Nessie wrapped an arm around her.

“Oh,no.” Rainey tried to push her away. “Your dress⁠—”

“Can be washed.” She guided Rainey toward the big house with the warm yellow light spilling from the windows. “Let’s go wash off some of that war paint, okay?”

She dug in her heels. “But… what about Evander?”

“He’s in good hands with Bear, but if it’ll make you feel better, Jax can go check on him.” She turned to her husband. “And find something to keep Oliver and Tate occupied while we deal with this. No zombie movies.”

“Ughhh,” Oliver said, sounding more like a disgruntled teenager than a little boy. “You’re no fun!”

Jax kissed his wife’s temple, shifted Oliver higher on his shoulders, and jogged toward the house with the boy already asking questions about zombies and stab wounds in the same breath.

Nessie kept her arm around Rainey’s shoulders and steered her across the lawn like she’d done it a hundred times, like blood-streaked strangers showed up at her wedding reception every day.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. You need clothes that aren’t—” She gestured at Rainey’s borrowed shirt, torn at the collar, stiff with dirt and blood.