Whiskey Kisses (25 page)

Bryson knocks me in the shoulder. “What’s the goofy grin for?”

“I think I’m finally settling into the idea of being with someone. I feel empty without Izzy, and the thought of doing this life thing without her makes me sick to my stomach. She’s the one—and I’m damn glad about it.”

Bryson lifts his beer, and everyone at the table does the same.

“To finding the one. By some miracle we all seemed to find her.”

“To the one.” We toast and spend the rest of the night laughing our asses off at the stupid fucks we used to be.

The girls made us better people.

Something tells me they always will.

Saturday, the sun is bright, the weather a toasty seventy-nine degrees as we stand in the perfectly manicured yard of Ryder’s parent’s estate. Miles of white lawn chairs are laid out in rows, and every single one is filled to capacity. I’d bet the Black Bear that all of Whitney Briggs showed up for the big event.

The gazebo is decked out with enough white roses to outfit every prom in a sixty-mile radius. It looks beautiful, elegant, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t bring a tear to my eye. I take in a hard sniff, trying to avoid the boo-hoo fest welling up in my chest.

Bryson and Ryder stand at the base of the gazebo, with me next to my brother.

My father and mother sit side by side down front, and my heart breaks for them but not in the traditional way it usually does when I see them together. This time there’s a genuine grief that has very little to do with what happened that day back in high school. A thought comes to me, and I hold my breath a moment. This is a day of new beginnings, of fresh starts. For a second I toy with the idea of letting everyone in on my dirty secret—but then the memory of Mom’s face, the horrible cry that escaped her throat that day comes back to me. Who the hell was I to rip open old wounds? To pour battery acid in them for the hell of it just to try and make myself feel better. Nope not going there. My stomach twists in knots.

A stringed quartet starts in on a beautiful piece. It sounds like a dove crying out to God. Izzy appears like a dream, like a tall glass of water in a vast dusty land, and the sky gets a little brighter.

“God almighty,” I whisper.

“Keep it in your pants,” Bryson mumbles. “It’s my lucky day, remember?”

Tears blur my vision as she glides her way over. Her hair is swept to the side. Her eyes blaze like fire. As far as I’m concerned, Izzy has already outshined the brides. Heaven help me. I think Bryson has it wrong. I think it’s my lucky day. Hell, every day with Izzy in it is my lucky day.

Roxy and Annie head down next. I can’t get over how grown up Annie looks. It gets me that much closer to tears. The music switches to the all-familiar bridal march.

Bryson takes one look at Baya and loses it. Cole walks his sister down the aisle, and it’s an emotional scene, not a dry eye in the house, not even mine. I know they lost their dad a while back, and seeing Cole step up to the plate has me wanting to boo hoo with the best of them.

Ryder lets out an audible breath, waiting for his own bride to make her way to him.

Laney appears, beautiful in her own right. She walks down with her mother on one side and her father on the other. For a moment, I imagine it’s Izzy, and a lump the size of a fist gets trapped in my throat. By the time the girls are at their sides, both Ryder and my brother have rivers slicking down their cheeks. The ceremony goes off without a hitch. No one passes out from the heat. No one objects to the state of the unions. And, before I know it, the boy I grew up with both in and out of utero is a bona fide married man. The brides and grooms take off running down the aisle as the crowd breaks out in a celebratory applause. I hook my arm in Izzy’s and pause as we make our way under the arch.

“You mind if I steal a kiss?”

Izzy sheds a mile-wide smile. “I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

I lean in and plant a sweet kiss right over her lips, and, for a brief moment, I imagine this is our wedding day. It feels like magic. Like something I’ve secretly waited my whole life to do with Izzy. I know I’ve wanted it. And now it’s right here in our grasp.

The reception takes place right after the ceremony. Rue Capwell has this place operating like a five-star restaurant with enough food to feed a football stadium. After dinner, a live band starts up, and the crowd mixes both on and off the dance floor.

Izzy sways in my arms as we stand just beyond the masses. I warm her back with my hands, brushing a gentle kiss over her ear.

“You want to dance?” I rock our bodies to set the mood.

“I was thinking we could take a little walk.” Her eyes widen, pale and round as the full moon above. “This place is huge. Rumor has it there’s a pond out there somewhere.”

“Sounds like we should find it.”

I snap up two champagne glasses from the roving waiters, and we begin to make our way outside the crowd.

“Well, look who’s here!” Laney waves us over to herself and Ryder. “You’re not leaving are you?”

“Nope.” Izzy offers her sister a quick embrace. “We thought we’d ditch the crowd for a moment.”

“Okay, but find me before all this madness ends.” She bears into her sister. “And as soon as I get back from my honeymoon I want to get together. I want us to talk about things the way we used to. I want to know you and everything you’re willing to share with me because I love you, Iz.”

Izzy swallows hard. “Done. You’re on for coffee when you get back.”

“Coffee.” She holds up a finger as she and Ryder fade into the crowd.

I hand Izzy a glass of champagne and wrap an arm around her waist.

“Do you think you’re ready to talk about things with me?” I trace my lips over hers. If she doesn’t want to, I’m not pushing it ever again. “I’d love for you to open up, but only if you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I think it’s time.” She pulls back and inspects me under the moonlight. “Holt—is there something you’ve been holding back from me?” She cuts me a look that says she wants answers. “Because if there is, I’d like for you to open up as well.”

I knock back the champagne.

I plan on telling Izzy everything—right now.

Izzy

Dear Dad,

I guess I don’t really have to write you these letters anymore since you’ve come back, but old habits die hard. I’m so glad you’re in our lives again. I feel full now. Does that make sense? Between you and Holt it feels as if my cup is running over.

I love you so much.

~Izzy

When Laney was seven years old, the exact age I was when our father mysteriously vanished from our lives, she put on a white dress and declared herself a bride. She said she was going to marry a prince and live in a castle—be a princess forever. I’d say she’s batting a thousand. I guess she knew what she was talking about after all.

Laney was always the kind of girl who knew what she wanted and went after it. She had goals, ambitions, and, most importantly, standards regarding who she would and wouldn’t allow into her life. God knows she didn’t get that from my mother.

“What’s going through your mind?” Holt pulls my hand to his lips and peppers it with kisses.

“Laney once said she’d marry a prince and live in a castle.” A dull laugh trembles through me. In truth, I’m giddy for my sister beyond belief. Today may have been her wedding day, but it’s also the day I pass the baton to Ryder. I know he’ll always keep her safe, perhaps a little better than I ever could.

“If it means anything, Ryder lives in some fancy high-rise, so I guess that qualifies as a castle.”

“That’s good enough for me. It’s been my dream to see her ride off into the sunset—in a good way.”

“I know what you mean. I’m happy for Bryson, too.” He leads us under a willow, and then we see it.

The moon pours its reflection over a black pool of water, smooth and glassy, like a giant mirror shinning into the night.

“Looks like we found the pond.” He buries a kiss in my neck.

“More like a lake.” It’s huge with the borders stretching out far into the night.

“Check this out.” Holt plucks a metal pontoon from a nearby bush and pushes it towards shore. “You think we should take this for a spin?”

“Sounds like a dream.”

Holt helps me into the tiny boat and jumps on board just as we sail from shore. He pulls an oar off the floor and rows us toward a marshy swamp where the reeds grow six feet above the waterline.

“You ready to do this?” He shakes out the oar and carefully places it by our side.

“Your secret or mine,” I blow it out in a whisper. “How do we decide who goes first? Rock-paper-scissors?”

“I couldn’t think of a more democratic way.”

We shake our fists at each other while chanting, rock—papers—scissors, in unison. The sound of our joy—our laughter, echoes up to the dusty lavender sky. There’s not a star in heaven that didn’t show up for this event tonight.

“Paper covers rock. You win,” I say. “So I guess I go first.” I glance down and play with the ribbon wrapped around my waist.

Holt slides over and pulls me into his lap. He lands his lips to my cheek and holds them there a good long while.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” I say it so fast I’m half afraid I’ll blurt the truth out before I’ve had the chance to formulate the proper words. “Okay, here it goes.” I take a breath and close my eyes. That day floods back like the nightmare it was. The memories suck me in like a tornado. It carries me high in its dark dizzying funnel, threatening to drop me back to earth and watch me shatter all over again. “When my father left, it was a scary time for me. Laney was too young to realize it, so things were a little different for her. Anyway, right afterwards, we moved and my mother purchased the studio. She ended up spending a fair amount of time there. Usually when she worked, she’d leave us girls home with whoever was her main squeeze at the moment.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away. “My mother, being her overbearing self, had a way of attracting the lowest of the low. But, for some reason, I liked the thought of having a man around almost as much as she did. I wanted someone—anyone to come in and try to take my daddy’s place. Deep down I knew they couldn’t but that didn’t stop me from holding out for a miracle. Anyway, by the time I was thirteen the new string of wannabe daddies started to pay me a little too much attention if you know what I mean. They were interested in more than just reading me a bedtime story. Suddenly there were grabby hands and lips that found their way far too close to mine. One day, Laney walked in the room and one of them started to lay his hands on her, so I became a barrier. I made sure she was safe and they wouldn’t think of touching her. Of course, I told my mother, but they always denied it, and she always believed them. So I did what I had to—I ran them all out.” My body goes numb. A breeze comes up, and the tears drip down my cheeks in an icy luge. “I beat them. I threatened them with fake video footage that I would take to the police if they didn’t leave overnight, and they almost always did. Some were tougher to get rid of than others. One of them told me that I was a nasty little bitch and would get mine one day.”