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1
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, rosy glow over the sprawling garden at the swankiest hotel I’ve ever seen.
Chairs form two rows on either side of a stone walkway, leading up to a grotto where the wedding ceremony will take place, while paper lanterns hang like puffy clouds around the large space. The larger reception area off to the left holds a small stage where a live orchestra plays and an hors d'oeuvre table for the pre-wedding celebration.
Servers thread through the guests who have already arrived, passing out beverages and appetizers while an open bar offers the heavier stuff.
I pause at the top of the stairs, taking it all in.
Zac, the wedding organizer and my former foster brother, had really flexed his billionaire status in renting out this place for our foster mother, Carrie, and her soon-to-be husband, Sean.
Nervous sweat coats my palms, and my pulse races with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It’s been eight years since I’ve been back to my hometown.
Now, surrounded by all these familiar faces from my foster home, it dredges up all the painful memories of what happened my senior year of high school. Even driving past the old football fields had brought on flashbacks of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams.
“Hey, Brad,” a voice calls out, jarring me out of the messiness of being eighteen and out of control. “What are you doing hovering at the entrance, stranger?”
I turn to see Ben approaching with a grin that hasn’t changed one bit. Beside him, Flinn beams at me, his freckle-covered cheeks bunching and his arm wrapped around Ben’s waist.
“Hey, yourself!” I hurry down the stairs to pull the small man into a bear hug, then shake Flinn’s hand. “You both look amazing.”
Ben reaches out to squeeze my bicep. “You’re not looking too shabby yourself.”
“Thanks.” I give a self-conscious laugh.
While I played football in high school, I quit when I went on to university. I’m still in pretty good shape, especially for an Omega, but nowhere near as bulky as I was the last time I saw my foster siblings.
“Did you check into your room yet?” Flinn asks. “We’re on the third floor.”
I pull the key card from my pocket to double check. “I’m on the first floor.”
Yet another thing Zac went all out on. He booked rooms for all the guests, making it easy to arrive early enough to check in and change into my suit, so I didn’t have to drive over while wearing it. It also removes the worry of staying too late, or having to remain sober or figure out a way home.
Not that my apartment is anywhere near here. I moved out of this town as soon as I graduated from high school. While I regretted leaving my foster family behind, I needed to put distance between me and my father, or I never would have been able to let go of all the negativity that surrounded him and found a semblance of peace.
“What time do you need to leave tomorrow?” Ben leans against Flinn’s side. “Can you stay for brunch?”
I nod. “I have the whole weekend off.”
After eight years of absence, part of me thinks I should swing by my old house to see my dad while I’m here, too, but the thought tightens my stomach with anxiety. Our relationship, always rocky, had never recovered from the night he caught me with my first boyfriend.
The flood of my overhead light turning on makes me flinch, followed by the bang of my door crashing against the wall.
Rian jerks upright, squinting at my father, who stands in the door, his face turning purple as he takes in the situation.
I yank the blanket up to cover us. “Dad, I?—”
He swipes a hand through the air to cut me off, and his angry gaze fixes on Rian. “That your car taking up my driveway?”
Rian swallows hard. “Yes, sir.”
He steps into my room and points toward the door. “You best move it before the tow truck arrives to haul it off my property.”
“Yes, sir.” Rian’s gaze jumps to me, his panic clear.
My hand shakes as I pull the blanket higher. “Just go.”
Nodding, he scrambles from the bed and yanks on his pants before grabbing the rest of his clothes and fleeing past my infuriated father.
