Page 9
“She changed the ceremony arrangements again.”
“How many flowers does a wedding need?”
“Apparently every flower cultivated in the Northern Hemisphere.”
“You can still run.”
He shrugs. “I paid for the castle.”
“Rich-guy problems.”
“That stopped being an insult around the third time you used my vacation house.”
“I suffered every minute.”
“I bet, recovering from the breaks in your hand surrounded by fine whiskey and sexy señoritas must have been awful.”
My fingers tightened once before relaxing.
Cade noticed. He didn’t apologize or redirect the conversation, which was one reason we’d remained friends since we were teenagers. He let the truth stay where he placed it.
The scenery outside the window shifted as we left the airport. Familiar exits passed beneath low clouds, each sign pointing toward places I once traveled without thinking about who might be waiting at the other end.
Kimball Falls was still hours away.
Charm remained there.
Knowing she lived somewhere beyond the roads ahead entered me like it always did when Milwaukee played Detroit. Distance became measurable. I could’ve found her with one highway, several turns, and the address Briggs refused to give me because I never asked—but would if I did.
I knew she owned a boutique.
I knew she lived above it and worked at a coffee shop while building the business. Bliss mentioned the boutique during one of her carefully neutral updates before realizing she had said too much and spending the next ten minutes discussing wedding invitations.
I never told her I already knew.
Charm’s name appeared in local articles about the KFU theater department’s costumes. Her boutique had a social media account with enough followers to prove she no longer needed Lance’s money to pretend at having a career. I didn’t follow it. The algorithm kept showing it to me anyway because algorithms were crueler than people gave them credit for.
I saw her hands in photographs before I allowed myself to look at her face.
The designs changed after treatment. They were bolder, less controlled, and willing to use color without apologizing for it. Some pieces were soft enough to look romantic until the model turned and revealed metal, leather, or a cut sharp enough to make the entire thing dangerous.
They looked like Charm.
The version I knew and the one I didn’t.
Cade drove in silence for several minutes before saying, “I need to talk to you before we get to the house.”
“I know.”
His hands adjusted against the wheel. “You know what?”
“You picked me up alone instead of bringing Bliss. She has a fitting scheduled this afternoon that didn’t require me to arrive six days before the wedding. You’ve glanced at me fourteen times since leaving the airport, and you’re using the same voice you used when you told me the doctors weren’t sure whether you would play hockey again.”
“I’m glad professional success hasn’t damaged your humility.”
“You want to give me the rulebook for being around Charm.”
Cade released a breath through his nose. “It isn’t a rulebook.”
