“But we’re celebrating!” Tanya whined and lifted her hand to catch the bartender’s eye before quickly swinging toward Savannah and me, forcing Alex to move with her to keep her upright. “It’s so beautiful.” Her glassy stare went to me. “Did she tell you how pretty it is? The most beautiful-est in the whole world of princesses and fairies.”
“I think I missed something,” Alex said as Tanya sagged against his chest. “I thought we were here to celebrate only having one more semester.”
“I didn’t know there was a reason,” I said as I finally succeeded in lifting Savannah’s face and felt my world narrow in on that girl when I saw the tears clinging to her cheeks.
“The fuck?” I breathed.
“It really is so pretty,” Savannah whimpered before choking on a sob.
“Oh, honey,” Tanya said, reaching for her, but Alex held her back.
“Savannah, what’s wrong?” I begged, inching her closer to me.
She waved a hand over her body before letting it fall heavily to my chest, her face crumpling with emotion.
“What—” I looked from Alex’s shocked expression to Tanya. “Why the fuck did you let her go shopping if she was this upset about it?” Focusing on Savannah again, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Savannah, it is not a big deal. Babe, you have to know that. I don’t care that you spent money. You shouldn’t either.”
“It isn’t this,” she said over a strangled sob, her shoulders hitching as she sucked in jagged breaths. “I . . . I found my wedding dress.”
“Okay, great, let’s go buy it.”
“We did,” she said, sounding devastated over the fact when I would’ve expected something a hell of a lot different. “And it’s beautiful and perfect and wrong—everything about our wedding’s just . . . wrong, it’s wrong.”
Everything went cold.
My blood. My heart. My soul.
I tried to breathe, but my chest felt too tight. Too heavy.
“Savannah,” I managed to say through the glass in my throat, “can we talk outside?”
“No.” She shook her head in wide, wild shakes as she unsteadily got onto the barstool. “No, I’m celebrating—we’re celebrating.”
“I think we should talk.”
“They aren’t here,” she cried softly as more tears fell.
I glanced to Alex, and he nodded in understanding, pointing the other direction and turning Tanya that way as Savannah continued rambling.
“Everything’s perfect, and you’re perfect, but it’s all wrong because they’re not here.” She hit her chest with a closed fist. “Madi was supposed to be there with me today.”
If I hadn’t already gone still, I would’ve then.
Unable to move from that paralyzing guilt.
“She’s supposed to be there then. On the day. But she won’t because she left me, and she’s just gone.” Her forehead creased in pain. “Why did she leave me—and Hunter!” she added quickly. “He isn’t here. He’s your brother and your best friend, Beau. But he’s gone too, and he hasn’t said if he’s coming to our wedding yet. And, so, it’s all wrong.”
“Savannah, I’m—”
“And,” she whisper-yelled, “I just realized this morning that I was late. Like, late-late.”
It felt like a shockwave hit me. Slammed right into me in a mixture of confusion and wonder and denial. “What?”
“Two weeks late.”
“I think I’m pregnant,” Madison confessed. “Hunter’s . . . if I even am.”
“If,” I bit out. “You’re just gonna throw that shit out there when you don’t even know?”
“I’m two weeks late . . . more than.”
I shook off that night and the gut-wrenching guilt as I studied the woman in front of me, my voice low and harsh as I demanded, “What? Wait, and you’re drinking?”
“I’m not.” She waved a hand around her. “I started when we were dress shopping, so there’s no—I’m not. But I had started thinking that it might be nice. That I might love being pregnant, even if the timing wasn’t right. Because it would be us and perfect and then I was wrong about that too, and I couldn’t call Madi for any of it. So, I went and got my nails done and went shopping, and I spent money I shouldn’t have.”
“I don’t care about the fucking money, Savannah,” I ground out. “But right now, I think we need to leave.”
“I don’t wanna go,” she said, head shaking fiercely as she wiped at her wet cheeks. “We’re celebrating . . .” Her glassy eyes studied the ceiling. “Something. I don’t remember what.”
“We can celebrate another time,” I assured her. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I wanna stay.”
“Savannah—”
“Man, she said she didn’t wanna go,” a voice said from behind me just as a palm shoved into my shoulder. “Get the hint and leave the girl alone.”
In an instant, everything changed. My breaths slowed and deepened. My jaw ached from the pressure I was putting on it as the world around me became saturated in red.
I slowly glanced over my shoulder at the man straightening behind me and puffing out his chest. Each movement and the challenge in his eyes had that sick, dark need in my veins pumping faster.
Raging.
Begging to do something.
I needed to get Savannah out of there—get us out of there—before I lost control.
Challenging me wasn’t something that should be done . . . ever. That side of me responded to it. Fed off it until I couldn’t stop what followed.
But on a day like then? After near-constant reminders of what I’d done to Savannah and my brother. Of how my girl was still breaking because of mine and Madison’s fucked-up attempt to cover what we’d done? I was already standing on a dangerous ledge of guilt and loathing that fueled the anger I tried so hard to suppress.
The softest breath, and I was going over.
I curled my fingers against Savannah’s waist. Feeling her there and forcing myself to breathe. To count backward even as the muscles in my back tensed and twitched in preparation as another guy stood and slowly rounded my side.
Caging me in until I was shaking.
“Beau,” Savannah breathed, her hand sliding over my chest and then gripping my shirt tightly. “Come on, you’re right. Let’s go.”
The guy behind me took a step closer and raised a hand. “Darlin’, you don’t have to go—”
“Don’t call her that,” I seethed, my voice a sharp warning.
“It’s fine,” Savannah said quickly, words slurring as she stumbled off the barstool and tried tugging me away. “We’re fine and we’re leaving.”
“Darlin’, you can’t expect us to let you leave with someone you were refusin’ just seconds ago.”
“I wasn’t—that isn’t—no,” she stammered as she struggled to grip my hands. To soothe them.
Because I’d released her the instant he’d called her darlin’ again.