Wild Heart (11 page)

I haven’t seen Emerson since the other night, which is probably a good thing. My head’s not right, and my heart is even more screwed up.

One minute I want nothing more than to be with her, and the next I don’t know what I want.

Sitting on that bridge with her changed things.

I spent all day Friday up on the mountain, clearing out a section of timber and trying to keep busy. Friday night was spent drinking, trying to keep my mind busy.

I tried not to think about her, but I failed. Spent a good deal of time questioning and thinking anyways. Playing out my past with different outcomes. Playing out my future with and without Emerson. Analyzed the shit out of everything in between that has sent the last ten years of my life into a downward spiral, wondering where the fuck I went wrong. Wondering how I got here, alone, dateless at a damn wedding.

I’m fucking pathetic.

“Sorry I ducked out on you Thursday,” I mutter, finally getting a second to talk to the groom. It’s been pictures, greetings, and general mayhem today, all of which I’ve tried to avoid.

Looking back at me through the little hallway mirror, Luke shrugs while fixing his tie. “It’s cool. You and Em okay?” Temporarily? No? Yes? How do I answer that?

I don’t say much. All I know is it feels fucking good to be with her, right or wrong.

“We’re all right.”

“How’s Nadia?” My brother asks, slinging an arm over my shoulders, a sly look in his eyes. “She was mad as fuck the other night.” No shit. I got an get an earful when I fell into bed with her later that night.

“Fine.” I don’t elaborate. I don’t tell him how Nadia was pissed at me for making her look foolish, or that she was even more pissed off about being left at the bowling alley with
my
friends. Friends she feels are below her. She’s never once tried to fit in with them, no matter how accepting and welcoming they’ve been towards her. She’s always kept to herself when she was around them, but I assumed it was because she didn’t want to get attached, thinking it easier to leave them behind if things didn’t pan out for us. Boy, was I so wrong.

“I’m always pulling for you and Em,” Luke says, a chipper smile on his face. His opinion means shit to me today. He’s getting married. The bastard is overly happy. Too happy to have any sound judgment.

“Thanks.” Sounds stupid, but I say it anyways. I was pulling for us too.

“Gotta be honest with you, Zac. I figured it’d be you gettin’ married first,” Luke cuts in, looking at me. The right words elude me so I don’t say anything, nodding my head instead.

“You ready for this, man?” I ask him, changing the subject. I’m nervous for him. Marriage is a big goddamn commitment.

Standing in the hallway outside the double church doors, I give Luke one final pull from the flask before it’s showtime. Coughing hard, he runs the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Fuck yeah. Never wanted anything more.”

Nodding, I watch him go. I can relate. Ten years ago I wanted nothing more too.

~~~~~~

I know nothing about weddings, but there’s not a dry eye in house, and I’m guessing that’s a good thing.

Standing off to the side of Luke, I stare at my shoes for a minute, feeling completely out of place up here by the alter. A cheesy love song croons in the background, and flower girls giggle from the front row pew. Someone sobs quietly a few rows back, and the photographer crouches down right in the middle of the aisle, snapping away as Holly walks into the room, looking beautiful.

Emerson is watching me with a smile on her lips.

Anger crawls up my neck, threatening to choke me when I see her happy, in her pretty black dress.

This should’ve been us
.

Emerson holds my stare and a million emotions flash across her face. Everything from sadness, happiness, regret, and defeat.
She’s looking to me, but for what? An explanation? A solution to the pain I know she’s feeling? Does she want me to hold her hand and tell her it’ll all work out in the end? Tell her that what’s meant to be will be? It’s all bullshit. Nothing worked out and everything fell to shit.

It’s her goddamn fault the two of us are sitting this one out.

Anger keeps bubbling in my chest. I’m angry that I’m standing up here in this goddamn monkey suit. Angry I still love the woman smiling weakly at me. And angry she’s not wearing my ring.

This should have been us.

My skin tingles with awareness. Heat crawls up my neck and into my cheeks, coloring them a lovely shade of red. Shifting on the stool, I feel my knees tremble under the soft chiffon of my dress. Squirming around again, I fidget with my guitar strap, trying to keep my antsy hands busy.

I can physically feel Zac’s stare on me and it’s not helping. His intense gaze is penetrating all the way into my soul, breaking it in to pieces like I did to his all those years ago. It’s a look he’s been giving me since I walked into the church.

I keep my gaze on the wood planked stage underneath me.

The attention is on me, and for the first time in my life, I hate it.

I didn’t want to do this, but Luke asked me, begged me, really, to do it for Holly.

“We’d love it if you’d sing our first song. I know it’d mean the world to Holly.”

How could I say no to that?

Alone on stage, it’s just my guitar and me. Something so normal, yet so wrong right now. It feels like I’m parading around the life I’ve lead for the past ten years, the life I gave Zac up for.

Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind, pushing it all away.

Sliding to the edge of the stool, I lean into the microphone, my voice barely a whisper. “To the happy couple. May you have one hundred years of wedded bliss. I love you both.”

Another deep breath and I dive in.

Fingers on the strings, I let the music flow.

The lyrics for
Crazy Love
drift out of my mouth, my fingers following along, strumming to the beat.

I watch the happy couple dance, just the two of them, in the middle of the dance floor with blissful smiles on their faces. Holly looks picture perfect in her stunning white lace gown, and Luke looks madly in love in his crisp black tux.

I’m envious
.

I want what they have
.

I crave it still, even though it’s too late
.

Looking away, my gaze finds Zac, his elbows on the table and a highball clasped in his hands, watching me intently.

He’s looking at me like I killed his puppy, like I wrecked his truck, like I ruined his life. Like I took away everything he’s ever wanted.

My heart hurts
.

Uncomfortable, I shift, looking away again.

I never miss a beat, even when everything on the inside of me is falling apart. My hands shake slightly from his stare, but my fingers stay steady on the strings of my guitar.

Zac would spend hours watching me play, watching me sing. He’s seen me stumble through new songs and fumble with difficult chords, but in this moment, I’ve never felt more self-conscience than I do right now in front of him.

He’s judging me, blaming me, hating me.

“She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love.”

The song ends, then the band behind me picks up, playing the tune to
My Girl
, one of my favorites. Holly’s dad scoops her up for their father-daughter dance, taking her hand from Luke’s. Her face lights up as her dad spins her away from her new husband.

It’s the happiest day of her life, and I hope it always stays that way.

Ducking away from the stage, I make a beeline for the bar.

“Honey, you were great,” my mom says, intercepting me halfway to my destination. Wrapping me up in a mom-style hug, she blocks my path to the glistening bottles of booze calling my name.

“Thanks, Mom,” I mutter, fiddling with my dress. Her support of me has never wavered, nor has my dad’s.

I step away from her when she lets me go, only to be stopped by my dad when he grabs my hand. “Not yet. You’re dancing with your old man.”

“Dad—”

“Dance with me, doll face,” he asks softly, and I cave, taking his offered hand.

“Okay,” I concede. Always a daddy’s girl, I could never tell him no.

We join the rest of the fathers and daughters on the floor surrounding Holly. My dad holds my hand in one of his large ones, and his other is around my waist. Leaning in he smiles, his blue eyes shining with love.

“Do you need to stand on my feet?”

The six-year-old me in a flower girl’s dress flashes through my mind. Spinning around with my dad on the dance floor, standing on his feet, giggling. 

“No,” I laugh. “I’m a little better at dancin’ now.” But not by much. Dancing was never my thing. Tripping all over myself is more my style.

Swaying to the beat, I let my dad lead. He’s so happy; I can see it on his slightly aged face, the way his eyes smile.

“I’m happy you’re home.”

I consider telling him that I’m happy to be back too, but settle on, “I know. I can tell.”

I let him dance me around the floor, enjoying our father-daughter dance, because we don’t get many.

~~~~~~

Sitting at the “singles” table, I drink my wine and watch the party flow around me. My parents are chatting with other couples. The bride and groom are lost to each other. People dance, eat, and mingle with smiles on their faces, having the time of their lives.

Me? I feel alone in this sea of people; my place among everyone is lost.

There are three bridesmaids sitting at the other end of the table. They’re laughing, chatting closely. They’re girls I used to be friends with myself growing up. We fell out of touch over the years, and my absence has never been more evident than it is now. They’re not being mean, I’m just no longer a part of their world, and it feels strange to be on the outside looking in on something I was once a huge part of years ago.

Row is on the dance floor with her date, a handsome guy she met at work, which leaves me all alone.

“Lone wolfin’ it?” Justin asks, taking a seat in one of the many empty chairs that surround me. I watched Zac wander off with a few groomsmen, most likely to smoke. It’s something he always did when he was uncomfortable, but Justin’s lingered, dancing with Holly and his mom. Now he’s here to give me shit.

“Yep.”

“You’re such a loser,” Justin teases. There’s a crooked smile on his face when I look at him over the rim of my glass.

“You’re sittin’ with me, so what’s that say about you?” I ask, lifting a brow. “Losers attract other losers.”

“I’m just here to ask the prettiest girl in the room to dance, even if she is a loser.”

Smiling, he holds out a hand to me as he gets up from his seat. He doesn’t give me the chance to protest because he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. Finishing off my drink in a hurry, I set it on the table before Justin drags me to the dance floor.

The song changes and I about die when I hear it.

“Let’s cut a rug.”

“Really?” I laugh. 

“Hell yeah.”

“Jesus, who put together this playlist?” I ask when
What I Feel For You
starts to play. I begin to die with laughter.

“Holly spent weeks selecting each song carefully. You don’t like it?”

Taking my hand, he starts dancing and it’s something akin to the Carlton. He’s so damn weird, but so damn funny.

“Oh, God. It’s so bad,” I groan around a winded laugh when he jerks me from side to side, dancing horribly. I can barely keep up.

“Feel the music, Em.” His smile is stretched across his handsome face. Justin pulls me in and wraps his arms around me, swaying to the ridiculous song. He’s taller than Zac, but a tad slimmer, more athletic in build, but just as handsome.

Looking down at me, he winks. “You ready to do this?”

“Do what…” The words die on my lips when he lets me go and spins me.

“This is my jam,” he teases, pulling me back in, only to spin me away again. 

I
needed
this. I needed it so bad.

Relaxing, I let go, letting Justin dance me ragged in the sea of people.

“I forgot how much fun you are,” I huff, already out of breath. But Justin doesn’t let up.

“Way more fun than my brother.” He grins, spinning me away again.

Truth
.