Chapter One
Brody
“Don’t do it, man,” my friend Chad warns. It’s a warning that I’ll ignore completely because right now, I’m brilliant. There’s nothing that could change my mind.
Johnny, the polar opposite of Chad who makes up our trio of friends, winces. “I agree. Not a good idea.”
Even though Johnny saying it’s a bad idea should give me a little bit of a warning, or at the very least make me take a second thought about my actions, I don’t pay either of them any mind. They’re wrong. And even if they’re actually right — which I can admit is entirely possible — it’s not going to make me change my mind. Instead, I drain the last of my beer and crush the can, tossing it into the back of the bed of my truck. Shaking my head, I pop open another. Because that’s another one of my brilliant ideas. “I think it’s a great fucking idea.”
Chad’s still shaking his head, eyeing me warily. “That’s the beer talkin’. I’m telling you… it’s the exact opposite of a great fucking idea. It’s not just bad, it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
I offer him my grin that usually gets me out of about anything. Though, considering he has a penis and doesn’t look at me the same way women do, I’m not sure that my smile or good looks have any sort of effect on him. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Again. The worst idea I’ve had happened a few years ago when I made her mine.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one but seriously, think about this a minute.”
“I have. You won’t change my mind. And just to say, I’m a little offended that you didn’t make it clear that I righted that bad idea when I happily no longer called her mine.”
“Thought that went without saying,” Johnny says.
“Then let’s get this show on the road, y’all. I’m ready to see the fear in his eyes.”
My friends groan and Chad side-eyes me then turns to Johnny. “Do you feel like we’re in the middle of a Garth Brooks song, too?”
Johnny nods. “Oh, yeah. But,” he slams the last of his beer, crushing the can just like I did moments ago, “fuck it. I’m down. Let’s do this shit.”
“We’re goin’ to jail, aren’t we?” Chad groans.
I grin. “Maybe.”
Chad, the sensible one of the three of us, groans again. “I need another first.”
“That’s the spirit!” I reach into the cooler and hand him another beer and one to Johnny. Ice bites into my skin and I wince then slide it into my koozie. We’re working on case number two so it’s not as if it takes us long to finish them off, but holding a can that’s wet from being in an icy cooler is annoying as all hell.
Johnny belches, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and readjusts his dirty old ball cap. “Ready?”
In a moment of rare nervousness, I hesitate. But only for a second. I’ve never been the type of guy to second-guess my actions. Blame it on my dad, I suppose, for raising me to be sure of myself and know who I am. Unapologetically. Some may call me cocky. I call it self-confidence. There’s a big difference. If I was just simply cocky, it wouldn’t be warranted. But what I’m about to do is way outside the realm of the norm, even for me.
“I’m ready.”
Chad still doesn’t look sure and maybe he’s right. But I’m committed now.
The three of us walk through the crowded parking lot and my friends stand back a bit while I open the heavy metal door. Then we’re inside. And like we’ve just walked into a movie, I swear every pair of eyes turn to us, the music stops on a screech, and a baby cries. Whispers of “why is he here?” and “oh shit” can be heard like a wave over the tables and chairs.
I don’t care, though.
I have my target in sight and one thing on my mind.
Her.
And next to her, he looks shell-shocked, a little worried, and a lot ticked off. But he also looks like he’s a pansy who can’t stand up for himself so I, on the other hand, am not worried. Not one bit. Because I can hold my own.
Again…
I don’t care.
It’s not cocky, it’s having self-confidence and knowing who I am. I might not drive a foreign luxury car like he does, but that doesn’t make me less of a man. Besides, what did she think? I was born and raised in this small town tucked into the Smoky Mountains and have no desire or intentions of moving away. She did but yet wanted to hold her wedding here. Probably to show everyone that she’d moved on. When we broke up, I earned the right to claim the town as my own. If she didn’t want me anywhere near her wedding, she should have chosen a different location. At least, that’s what my alcohol-laden brain is telling me at the moment.
“I really wish the DJ would play that song right now,” Johnny murmurs behind me, making Chad chuckle.
He’s not wrong. If “Friends in Low Places” kicked on right about now, it would be nothing short of perfection.
Hannah stands from her chair, her veil trailing down her back and over her shoulders. I always knew she’d make a beautiful bride and I wasn’t wrong. I’m man enough to admit that. However, it doesn’t deter me from my plan.
My brilliant fucking plan.
Hannah’s husband reaches up and grabs her hand, shaking his head. She looks from him to me before she sits back down.
Damn, I wish I had had one more beer. Some extra liquid courage never hurt anyone. Well, that’s not exactly a true statement.
Johnny, Chad, and I take a step forward. Somewhere in the crowded reception hall I hear a gasp then a glass must tip over because commotion is happening in the corner when a woman jumps from her chair and people start dabbing up liquid with their napkins.
Four more steps, around a table of late twenty-somethings who seem to be relishing in whatever is about to go down. Must be his friends because I don’t recognize them as any of Hannah’s, but they do look entertained. In fact, a few of them are snickering and settling into their chairs like they’re ready for a show.
I make brief eye contact with one of Hannah’s bridesmaid, Katie, who has her lips pressed together and is clearly trying to stop herself from laughing. It’s definitely not working, though. She’s seconds away from losing it if the shake in her shoulders is anything to go by.
Interesting.
Maybe Katie is Team Brody after all.
I just assumed that after our breakup, all her friends would be on her side. Now, though, I’m not so sure.
To test my theory, I shoot her a wink which makes her eyes widen and a little giggle to escape that she quickly covers up with her hand covering her mouth. Or tries to, anyway. Oh, yeah. She’s on my side. All the more reason to go through with my plan. I always liked her the best of all of Hannah’s friends. She’s funny and confident in herself. We always got along really well, and I honestly always wondered how Katie and Hannah had remained friends for so long. They have very little in common and didn’t meet until Katie moved here her junior year. Hannah and I weren’t dating in high school but they became friends quickly.
I make my way through the rest of the tables and plant my feet in front of the head table. I watch as Hannah stares at me with curiosity, taking a sip of champagne and setting her glass back down pretending to be cool and collected, but I know her. She’s anything but. In fact, she’s probably shaking with nerves right now.