Four Weddings and a Break Up (24 page)

T
hey pulled
in front of the lighthouse. David had driven with one hand on the steering wheel, the other had held the gun to her side, a constant threat that if she moved, he would shoot her. In the rearview mirror, she could see the black smoke rise in the sky, the flames shoot up, and she wondered if anything of her sister’s bakery would be left standing.

He got out of the car and yanked open the passenger door. “Get out.”

She stared at the gun, swallowed, and did as he said. A bubble of mirthless laughter choked out of her and became a sob. Whatever she did, he was going to shoot her anyway. No, he was going to kill her.

“Move.”

He grabbed her arm, pulling hard when she hesitated. He twisted, and an arrow of pain had her stumbling in her heels. When she fell again, this time to the gravel, skinning her knees, David let out a string of obscenities.

“Take those fucking things off.”

Her knees were bleeding and bits of gravel were embedded in her palms. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the ankle strap.

“I swear to god”—he pressed the barrel against her forehead and sobs escaped her—“if you don’t take those shoes off now, I’m going to fucking kill you where you sit.”

She managed to take them off, and then David hauled her back to her feet with a grunt.

He started cursing at her as he hauled her to the lighthouse. It hadn’t been locked, Ginny realized. But he could have gotten the keys from the manager, who was related to David.

He brought her to the entrance and gestured inside. “Climb.”

“Climb?” The word choked out of her on a hoarse cry. “You’re not going to shoot me?”

“I’m not going to do anything. You’re going to jump. It’ll be all over the news. How you couldn’t take it anymore and committed suicide.”

“The bakery, and your son will say something.”

He leaned forward, his eyes cold and narrowed like a snake’s. “Bobby won’t say anything. The bakery . . . well, accidents happen.”

“No one is going to believe I killed myself. My mom won’t. My sister won’t. And Wes won’t.” Her hands clenched into fists. David wanted her to die. But she wasn’t going to jump, and she wasn’t going to cower in fear any longer. She was going to fight. She didn’t want to die, not like this. “And I won’t do it.”

“Yes. You—”

He never got the rest of the words out of his mouth. Ginny drew back and head-butted him. It stunned him enough that his grip loosened on her arm, and she wrenched free, scratching his arms, his face, anything until she was freed.

And then she ran.

Gravel stung her feet, her arms pumping, her legs running as fast as they could. She needed to get away from him. She ran down to the beach, disoriented from butting him in the head. She cleared the small pathway and reached the sandy shores, turning left, running to the boardwalk in the distance. If she could just get close enough so she could shout, draw attention, then she’d be safe.

When she was safe, she’d find Wes. She would tell him over and over again how much she loved him. She would kiss him, trace every single plane of his face and learn every contour of his body until it was ingrained in her. She would hold him close, listen to his strong, steady heart, feel his arms enclose her, inhale his clean, male scent. Be grateful she had another moment with him.

She would find her mom—her crazy, generous, well-meaning mom—and tell her how much she loved her. That even though her mom’s matchmaking ways had driven her crazy, she knew her mom meant well. And she would tell her mom to find happiness with Grant. She would find her sister—her strong, loyal sister—and say how sorry she was about Just Desserts, and how they’d rebuild it, and how much she loved her. She would tell her mom, sister, and Wes how much they meant to her every single day of her life. When she was safe.

She heard the sound, over the roar of the waves and distant melody of the carousel. David yelling her name.

“Ginny!”

She ran faster. She needed to reach safety. She needed to get there. She needed to live.

She was knocked to the ground, her body smacking the soft sand, her face covered in it. She coughed and sputtered, wiping the sand from her face, kicked and flailed her limbs, trying to get
him
off her. She was turned over, and she punched him in the nose, hearing the satisfying thunk of bone crushing and blood splattering.

“You bitch.”

She kneed him in the groin, missing when he avoided the hit at the last second. But with that move, she was able to unseat him, to scramble to her feet and take off again.

She hadn’t gotten more than a few feet when his hand closed around one of her arms, and yanked hard. There was a distinctive popping sound.

She howled in pain and felt herself pale. She wanted to throw up; she felt so sick, and it hurt to move, to breathe. They were face to face, the blood from his nose already drying, and he shoved her away.

She stumbled backwards, and almost bent over, gasping with the pain. She held her right arm, tenderly, not wanting to jumble it any more than necessary.

David raised the gun. Pointed it straight at her heart.

Ginny thought of her mom. Of how when she had come home from her first day of kindergarten, her mom had been waiting with a plate of cookies and a Cabbage Patch doll Ginny had wanted so badly. She thought of her sister, of how they’d spent hours playing with their Barbies, of the time Julie had dared her to ask out Mr. Dangerous. She thought of her dad. How he’d held her in the hospital room after she’d been shot, and she wondered when she died if she would go to Heaven and see him again.

And lastly she thought of Wes. She thought of his smile, of skipping stones with him, of the way he called her “sugar,” and how she’d wanted just more time with him. Oh, how she wanted more time with him.

She was scared to die. She didn’t know what would happen. Was there an afterlife? Or did she just disappear? Tears rolled down her cheeks. She had thought she would die before, after Kyle had shot her—but she had survived that. And she’d never thought she would have to face that fear again.

Then she felt as if she was being embraced, and warmth washed over her clammy skin. It almost felt like she was being hugged. The stars shone brighter, and a peaceful calm settled over her. Her heart settled into a normal rhythm, and she met David’s gaze.

“I’m not afraid any longer.” It was the truth, she realized, as she uttered those words. “I’m strong. I’m beautiful. I deserve to be loved and have love. I am not fat or weak or ugly. I am wanted. I am needed. And I am loved. I’m not going to run. I’m not scared of you—or what is going to happen.”

“Good.” He clicked back the hammer.

She wasn’t going to close her eyes. She stared at him. The warmth only grew stronger around her—it felt like she was being bathed in love. She heard a man shouting her name, over and over and over again.

Wes!

David glanced over his shoulder, and Ginny’s heart leapt when she saw Wes pounding down the sand to where they stood.
Oh, Wes!
He looked haggard and scared but determined, and there had never been a more beautiful sight to her in the whole world. Wes picked up speed, headed directly toward David. He knocked into him as the gun went off.

David was on the ground, and Wes was beating him senseless. With one last punch, Wes knocked David out. Then Wes looked at her and smiled, relief evident in his gaze.

She smiled back. And then she looked down, frowning at the red appearing on her upper chest. She couldn’t move her right arm, but she lifted her left hand to the spot and came away, covered in slick red.

For a moment, she stood there, not feeling anything. And then just as quickly, it was as if a branded iron had been pressed to her skin. A battering ram of pain knocked into her, repeatedly. She was burning all over. She glanced down. The red was blood.

Her blood.

She’d been shot.

“Ginny!”

It was the last thing she heard before the darkness overtook her.

G
inny
!” He ran to her, kneeling on the sand next to her. No, damn it, she wasn’t supposed to be hurt. She wasn’t supposed to be shot. She was supposed to be okay.

So much blood. There was so much blood. He couldn’t even tell where the bullet had struck her. If it hit a major artery, then time was precious.

He yanked off his white dress shirt, and pressed it against the blood. She was becoming deathly pale, her breaths shallow. “Ginny. Please don’t die. Please.”

The red was covering his shirt, and he grew panicked, his heart a drum of rapid beating.

“Ginny. Don’t you dare die on me!” He was at a loss. She was his everything, and he couldn’t lose her now that he’d realized that. “Plus, if you die, you won’t ever hear me say that I was wrong. That I was a jerk—a stupid idiot—to not realize it sooner. Ginny, please open your eyes. There’s so much I want to tell you. I want to tell you—”

He swallowed thickly, and felt tears trickle down his cheeks. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to save you.” Never had he felt so helpless in his life. Even when his father had been missing, Wes had realized in some dim capacity of his franticness that they would eventually find Dad and bring him home. There were no reassurances here. Nothing that would bring Ginny back to him. “Please. Just come back to me. I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re not here. I can’t live without you.”

How could he? Ginny was the other half to his heart. He’d been so stupid to think he could leave Cape Hope behind and return to Las Vegas as if nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

For the better.

He had his family here. His dad. His brothers. So much of his life he had held himself back from his dad and brothers, and in doing so, he’d isolated himself from his family. Wes loved his brothers, his dad. He wasn’t going to hold back any longer or allow himself to be closed off from family, from home, from love.

He would do anything for Ginny.

He loved her.

And when she made it through this—because she had to live—he was never letting her go again.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and kneel at her feet, like a knight before his queen, and plead for her mercy. See if she could find it in her generous heart to overlook his asinine behavior. And he would reassure her, through words, actions, and any other possible way, that his home was with her. That he loved her.

But she had to live.

She just had to.

“Ginny.” He kissed her lips and felt the warmth and life fading away.

No.

“Ginny!” He kissed her again, harder, trying to shut death out. “Don’t you leave me. You hear me? Don’t you even think about it! You’re stubborn and funny and smart, and dying right now would be the dumbest move ever. Don’t you dare die.”

There was a flurry of sirens and voices shouting.

“Hey, buddy, you think you can move out of the way and give us room?”

Wes turned, and it was as if a miracle had been answered.

The EMTs had arrived.

He gave them the room they requested and paced the sand. The cops were there, too. One clamped handcuffs around David DePaul as he came to consciousness, read him his Miranda Rights, and hauled him away. A few more cops headed over to Wes. A burly man in a dark blue uniform hovered near the edge of where the EMTs worked on Ginny.

“She going live, Erica?” he asked.

“Yup,” called out a young black girl. “Ms. Michaels will live. The bullet went straight through.”

She’ll live
. The best words in the English language.

“How do you know her?” Wes asked hoarsely. “And how do you know she’ll be okay?”

The girl briefly glanced up at him, assessing him with a brief look, before she returned her attention to Ginny. “Ms. Michaels was my teacher when I was a senior. I was the other student who was shot. She saved my life that day. It’s about time I returned the favor.”

“She’s going to live though? You’re sure?”

She nodded her head. “But we have to get her to the hospital. Her shoulder is dislocated, and we want to make sure there are no internal injuries. She’ll live, though.”

He couldn’t help himself. He cried.

“That’s okay, buddy. Let it out.” The same burly cop clapped a hand on Wes’ shoulder, patting him. “I know it’s been damn scary.”

Soon, Ginny was transported to a board and carried to the ambulance. One EMT checked Wes and cleared him. If there had been any way the bullet could have hit him instead, he would have taken it for her. It ripped his heart out that Ginny had suffered again—that she had repeated an experience that had been so traumatic.

Wes was stopped from entering the ambulance. “What? I want to go with her! I want to make sure she’s okay! I love her!”

“I get that. We all do. And we’ll bring you to the hospital to make sure you’re definitely okay. But we also need to question you—to find out the whole story.”

And Wes also wanted to make sure David was put away, that there was no chance of him ever getting out—so that Ginny was always safe. He stared at the fading lights of the ambulance as it rushed off to the hospital. His heart was there, with Ginny, and he could only pray that what the EMTs had said was true—that it was only a superficial wound. But he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her. Until he told her how he felt.

To protect Ginny, he needed to talk to the cops. “Ask me anything you want to then.”

And he thought:
I love you, Ginny. I love you. I love you. I love you
. He fervently hoped she would feel that, somehow, some way, and come back to him.

W
es went
to the hospital that night and barged his way into the hallway outside her room, heaping threats upon the hospital, doctors, nurses, even the janitors. Her mom and sister were there, red-eyed and distraught, sitting in the chairs outside. Their expressions were blank, numb, devoid of feeling.

And his world paused, stuttering to a stop.

No. No. No
.

“They said she was okay. That she was going to be okay. I wouldn’t have left. I would never leave.” He was frenzied. “I wouldn’t have left her alone. They told me she’d be safe. That it was an artificial wound. That it was mostly just blood. Tell me she’s not—”

“No, Wes.” Her mom approached him and enveloped him in a hug. “It’s okay. Ginny’s okay.”

He shuddered, not ashamed when he cried some more. After a long moment, he drew away and stared down into Ginny’s mom’s face. “Can I see her?”

“She’s sleeping.”

He started to plead his case, but her mom cut him off.

“But you can look in.”

“Thank you.” Wes kissed Faith on her cheek. “Thank you, you sweet, lovely woman.”

Her mom smiled briefly and turned to Julie, their arms wrapping around each other, each supporting the other and drawing strength.

Wes entered her room, quietly shutting the door behind him. The machines made a low buzzing sound, and an IV was hooked up into her left arm with a bandage covering her left shoulder area, and a sling on her right, where her shoulder had been dislocated.

She looked so pale and fragile against the white bed sheets. He was afraid to touch her, afraid that if he did she would break . . . or worse, she would disappear, and he would wake up and this would all be a dream, and she wouldn’t be a part of his life.

He sank down in the chair by the bed, staring at her hands, so much smaller than his own. He reached out slowly, to touch her, to reassure himself that this was all real . . . that she still lived and she
would
live and that he could make everything right for them.

He rested his index finger against the top of her hand, then slid it to where the plastic wristband encircled her wrist. Tenderly and gently as he could, he held her hand in his and laid his head down to the bed. And then he did something he hadn’t done in a long time.

He prayed.

G
inny woke up slowly
. The hospital room came into focus, and it took her a few minutes to remember why she was in there. Breaking up with Wes. The bakery burning. Bobby. David. The gun.

There should be a limit to how many times a person got shot in one’s life. None would be good, but since she couldn’t take that, once would have been more than enough. She closed her eyes. She was extremely lucky to have been given this second chance.

She heard voices just outside her door. Her mom. Wes.

Her eyes flew open as she tried to sit up, wincing at the pain brought on by her movements, straining to hear the conversation. It was muffled, and she could only make out certain parts.

“What . . . do . . . plan?” her mom asked.

“I’m leaving . . . Have to take care . . . Ginny . . . knows.”

Yeah, she knew he was leaving. And it hurt and wrecked her, but she wasn’t going to hold someone back. She wasn’t going to hold Wes back. Letting him go the first time had been hard enough, and this would be ten times worse. Because she had told herself—promised—that she wouldn’t ever let him go again.

But she couldn’t keep him—not when he didn’t want her. When he didn’t love her.

The door opened. It was Wes. And when he saw that she was awake, he rushed over to her. “Faith! Julie! Ginny’s awake.”

“Ginny!” Her mom and sister rushed into the room. They both hugged and kissed her as gently as they could. Wes hung back, standing by the foot of her bed.

She remembered how he had shown up on the beach and tackled David. If he hadn’t come, then she would be dead.

She met his eyes. “Thank you for saving my life, Wes.”

“You were still shot. And hurt.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Ginny. I tried so hard.”

“Julie, why don’t we give Wes and Ginny a few minutes alone?” her mom suggested and steered her sister out of the room before Ginny could raise any objections.

“Ginny, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“I know what you’re going to say. I heard you just now.” Her fingers toyed with the blanket. “You’re leaving. That’s fine.”

“Let me—”

“There’s nothing to explain.” She was still so tired and in pain. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. You don’t love me. You don’t want me.”

His face had become a deathly white, his throat working. “You’ve got it all—”

Her heartbeat was accelerating and the machine started beeping. A nurse rushed in, checking her vitals. “She needs some rest,” the nurse said to Wes.

“I can’t go yet. I need to—”

“Just go, Wes. We’ve said all we’ve needed to say to each other.”

“I’ll go because you’re upset and you need rest. But there are things I need to tell you. Things have changed.”

She looked away from him. Things hadn’t changed. Not at all. And she didn’t care what Wes had to say. She was done listening to him.

T
here was
no way around it. Ginny was avoiding him. She had been released from the hospital the next day, but a week had passed with no word from her. Every time he stopped by The Gray Lady, where Ginny was staying, she refused to see him. She wouldn’t take his calls and she didn’t return any of his emails.

He was at a loss.

Her mom said to give Ginny some more time; Julie had agreed. But he felt like the more time passed, the further and further away Ginny was getting from him.

Julie had just left his dad’s house. His brothers were helping her fix Just Desserts, which miraculously hadn’t burned down. It had been severely damaged, and it would be some time before it reopened, but it still stood. Bobby had been placed in a juvenile delinquent center and was also getting psychiatric help. David was in jail, without bail.

Julie said how most of the town had come by. She had also told him that Marie, David’s ex-wife and mother of Kyle and Bobby, had stopped over at The Gray Lady with a casserole and talked with Ginny for a long while. That had angered him. Ginny would talk to a woman whose family had brought her so much pain, but she wouldn’t even give him a second of her time. Apparently, Marie had apologized for everything.

“And it only took Ginny getting shot and almost losing her life again for that to happen,” he had snarled.

“Ginny has a forgiving soul. But Marie is planning on moving away—too many bad memories. I’m glad Ginny won’t have to deal with the DePauls or see them again,” Julie had said. “This is home for Ginny, Wes. If you want to be with her like you say you do, are you ready to leave Las Vegas?”

The decision was easy. He wanted to make Ginny happy. He wanted to be with her. And Cape Hope could be his home, too.

H
e was still brooding
when his brothers entered the kitchen. Dad was taking a nap in his room.

“So are you staying? Or leaving?” Jake asked.

“Staying.” Las Vegas wasn’t home anymore. Cape Hope was. He thought about it, trying to express himself adequately. “This is home now. And I want to be here for Dad and you guys.”

“Sweetens the pot that Ginny lives here, too,” TJ said, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” His voice was bleak, broken. It was painful to think she wasn’t going to listen to him—that he would never have another chance with her. He loved her. And he had royally messed it up.

“Have you told her you love her?” Jake looked incredulous.

Silence.

“You haven’t,” Jake surmised. “What an idiot.”

“Total bonehead move,” TJ agreed.

“She wouldn’t let me! I tried to tell her in the hospital but she wasn’t listening to me and told me to get out. I’ve been over to The Gray Lady, and she won’t see me.” A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed past it. “She wants
nothing
to do with me.”

“Man, you’re so over the moon about her,” TJ said.

“I don’t think she’s going to believe me anyway. All this pretend and make believe. She’s more liable to think I’m joking.”

“So you’re just going to mope around the house and nurse your broken heart while she slips through your fingers?” Seth asked in a disgusted manner.

He looked at Seth. “I guess.”

“Oh, good.” Jake leaned nonchalantly against the wall and stared at his fingers. “That means she’s fair game. Means I can go after her.”

Before Wes knew what he was doing, he was across the room and punched his brother in the nose. TJ and Seth yanked him back.

Jake winced. “Fuck. That hurt. I think you broke my nose. But you’ve proven my point. You love her.”

“Yes, I love her! Haven’t you been listening? I want to marry her.”

“Then stop acting like an idiot and go after her.”

Didn’t his family understand? “She won’t believe me.”

“Then make her believe you,” TJ said. “There’s got to be something you can do.”

There was the wedding tomorrow night, an old high school friend of Ginny’s. And . . .

“That house. With the pond. Kansas. I want to buy it.”

“Wes.” Jake shook his head. “Let’s stay on the same subject.”

He quickly explained what he wanted to do, and his brothers smiled.

Dad entered the kitchen, took stock of the situation, and looked at Wes. “All this racket for you to tell everyone that you love Ginny. Jeez. Stop talking and go after her.”

He would. He was.

“So you’re going to live here? With Ginny?”

Wes nodded. “I’m working on it.”