“Here.” Violet presses a wad of toilet paper against the prophetic cut, looking downright terrified as she stares at me. “Are you okay?”
I huff out a composed breath. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not like I lost a limb or something.”
The thought of animals chewing off their own limbs to escape a trap pops up in my mind.
Violet’s brow crinkles. “Listen. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I need to offer it just once or I’ll never forgive myself.”
My lips quirk at her serious tone. “Okay. I’m listening.”
She rolls her shoulders back dramatically as she stares at me. Really stares at me. Hard. I’m inclined to glance away but I don’t.
“If you don’t want this.” Her free hand signals around us. “If you need an out. If you need a getaway car. I’m your girl. I won’t say a thing. I won’t judge you. But if this isn’t right? If you need to run? Like . . .” She looks away momentarily, lips rolling together as she weighs her next words carefully. “Blink twice or something. Okay?”
I don’t blink, but a tear spills out and runs down my cheek.
“Fuck,” my cousin breathes. “I made you cry. I’m sorry. I just had to throw it out there.”
“I love you, Violet. I’m not sure I’ve ever told you that. But you? Your family? Those weeks on the ranch every summer are some of the best days of my life.”
Her eyes water and she blinks frantically, cupping my hands in hers. “But today is better, right?”
Her eyes search mine so earnestly, blue on blue. All I can muster is a sad smile. Today should be the happiest day of my life, but it’s not, and I don’t want to lie to her.
My lips open before I even know what I’ll say, but my phone lights up and dings loudly on the vanity counter in front of us. Saved by the bell.
Dropping her gaze, I lurch for my phone, relieved by having an out. It’s a text from “Private Number” and when I tap at it, the only message attached is: Thought you should see this.
Below that is a video. With a preview image that is strikingly familiar.
I hit the play button.
“What the hell?” Violet’s hand lands on my knee as she presses forward to get a good view of the screen.
The screen lights up with a grainy video. Loud music thumps. And what’s happening front and center should upset me. After all, what looks familiar is my fiancé dressed in the same polo shirt he wore on the night of his stag.
“Violet, can you go get Sterling for me, please?”
I should be devastated. But all I can think as I watch a naked woman bounce on Sterling’s dick is that I won’t have to chew off my own limb after all.
3
Jasper
Jasper: Vi, have you heard from Harvey? I haven’t seen him or Beau yet.
Violet: No. But things just went to hell in here.
Jasper: What’s wrong?
Violet: Sterling Woodcock is a piece of shit. That’s what.
Jasper: What the fuck did he do to her?
“Who invented ties anyway?” Cade bites out from beside me. “They’re fucking uncomfortable.” He’s the oldest of the Eaton boys, the grumpiest, and one of my biggest supporters.
“You look ridiculous in one too.” Rhett laughs with a shake of his head, always harassing his older brother.
But it’s the middle brother, Beau—who I’m closest with—that I’m really looking around for. The fact he isn’t here yet is making me antsy.
He tried to request his time to line up with the wedding. He’s supposed to have a few weeks off at home before he ships back out. But he hasn’t shown up yet and neither has our dad, Harvey.
“Fuck you, Fabio,” is Cade’s agitated retort as he fiddles with the tie around his neck. Making fun of Rhett’s long hair isn’t new territory. I’ve been watching this exchange for years.
“Where are the girls?” I ask, trying to get them both on track. The harpist is playing. People are mingling in front of the imposing church. It’s gray and cold and depressing outside. And all I want to do is run away.
“If you call Willa a girl, she’ll castrate you,” Cade grumbles, yanking the tie off and shoving it into his suit coat pocket.
“She’s going to castrate you for not wearing the tie she picked out.” Rhett chuckles.
“She’ll get over it when I tie her up with it later.” Cade inspects the front doors of the church—his radar is that perfectly honed—as Willa pushes the door open, hand slung protectively over the small bump she’s sporting. Her eyes search for Cade in the sea of people. She smiles softly when they land on him, but it slips away quickly.
Then Summer, her best friend and Rhett’s fiancée, is there too. They move toward us and both look a little chagrined.
“That was quite the bathroom break,” Rhett announces when they get near enough to hear us.
Summer snuggles up under his arm while Willa regards us with a wary expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, gaze bouncing between the women. Because I can tell something is up, and they’re not saying it.
“Willa is a nosy little eavesdropper,” Summer says. “That’s what’s wrong.”
“Shut up, Sum. It’s not eavesdropping when you can hear a person yelling from the other side of a closed door.”
“I think that might still technically be called eavesdropping,” Cade says as he pulls Willa toward him.
My brain is stuck back on one word. “Sorry. Who is yelling?”
Summer’s lips roll together, dark eyes wide and concerned. “It would seem the bride and groom are having a disagreement. And the groom has no volume control.”
“He’s a slimy little prick,” Willa adds simply. “I can tell just by looking at him,”。
Before anyone says more, I’m in motion through the heavy door, checking left and right to get my bearings, and picking a hallway that appears to have several doorways leading off of it. I take long strides in that direction until I can hear the raised voice.
Violet is standing outside the door, doing an excellent imitation of a deer in the headlights, while her massive husband, Cole, towers behind her like he’s ready to murder someone. He always looks like that though.
“You’ll embarrass yourself more than me,” Sterling’s scolding tone assaults my ears from the other side of the door.
I peek at Violet and her husband. His lips are flat, and he cants his head at me as if to say, Are you going in there or am I?
I’d happily let him put Sterling in his place. But I’d be even happier to do it myself.
“Are you kidding me?” Disbelief resonates in Sloane’s voice. “You fuck a stripper nights before our wedding and I’m the embarrassing one?”
Other people in the church appear to be staring—listening—which is why I open the door into whatever maelstrom is taking place. Sloane needs backup. And she needs to know everyone is privy to their dirty laundry right now.
At least I tell myself that’s why I’m marching into this room unannounced. It has nothing to do with the fact that Sterling has me seeing red.
“It was my stag party! A last hurrah!” I catch sight of Sterling’s back, his arms held out wide as Sloane sits on a dainty antique stool, looking impossibly small, while he stands over her, yelling at her.