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“Relax, Bluebird. I’m right here,” Reed croons. It’s as if he understands and maybe he does. He always seems to read my emotions, even when I’d rather he didn’t.
“Have I mentioned I’m not big on crowds?” I profess. His lips tug up on the corners as he tries to stop himself from laughing. “Seems like I heard that before.”
I smirk before looking back in the direction we’re headed. Pastor Kurt, Jeff, and Lennon are standing at the altar, but I stop walking when I see the look on Jeff’s face. There’s an anger that’s almost physical, and it’s so intense that you can feel its heat. It radiates from him. He’s staring out at the crowd, not truly paying attention to the wedding. Without thought, I follow his line of sight. My heart practically stops beating mid-beat.
“Oh no,” I gasp.
“It will be okay, Bluebird.”
“I don’t see how,” I argue.
“Okay, maybe it won’t be at first,” he concedes. “Still, we both know it needs to happen.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I answer, worried about Katie and Jeff.
This is going to be a disaster.
CHAPTER 28
Katie
I can do this. I can do this.
I repeat the words over and over in my head, hoping that if I say them enough that I’ll finally believe them. As I step out, the wedding march begins and my stomach lurches. It’s not butterflies either. No, it’s beyond that. I put my hand to my stomach on reflex. It feels as if there’s a war being launched in there. It would have been nice to have Lennon with me, but he’s too hyper today. It seemed safer letting him stand by Jeff’s side.
I’m so mad at myself. I love Jeff—I do. I am not in love with Jake anymore. I haven’t been in a long time. Hell, depending on what day you ask me, hate is the biggest emotion I feel when it comes to Jake Ryan. I mean, I’m grateful to him for our son, but it begins and ends right there. Which means this shouldn’t be so hard.
Except it is.
I look up at Jeff, and my heart squeezes in my chest. He’s tense. He always gets this crease in his forehead when he’s upset, and even from this distance it is noticeable. I try to smile encouragingly, but it’s then I realize that he’s not even looking at me. At first, I’m annoyed because I already have enough jitters of my own. Shouldn’t a groom be looking lovingly at his bride right now? Lennon is there, but he’s rocking on his feet, and he really looks like he wants to be anywhere else than where he is.
My son makes my heart happy. He really is the best child and has kept me going over the years. He’s also the main reason I pushed to finish trade school. In school, I had plans to be a nurse. Those plans changed because I needed to be home more often with my grandmother and Lennon.
Some people curl their nose at hairdressers. However, I’ve made decent money, and I do even better now that I’ve opened my own business. I did it all so that I could always take care of my son and not have to rely on anyone. I know people think I used Jeff as a crutch, but our relationship was never that. It bloomed from a close friendship and mutual respect.
Jeff finally looks at me. I thought that would reassure me, but it doesn’t. I’ve seen that look on his face before. It’s the same look he wore for a solid week—right before he moved out and said he couldn’t be in a relationship with me anymore. He didn’t want to be a fill-in for his brother. While he’s never been that to me, I can see why he believes it. Things would be so much simpler if Jeff and Jake weren’t brothers.
When I make my way to him, he takes my hand. He doesn’t say anything reassuring—which knowing Jeff as I do, I totally expected.
“Is everything okay?” I ask in a hushed whisper. Something that looks precariously close to guilt moves over his face, raising alarm bells inside of me and making it hard to breathe. “Jeff?”
Before he can answer, Pastor Kurt begins the ceremony. I turn and give Callie my bouquet. She looks at me and that’s when my nerves really kick in. She’s traveled from calm to ultimate panic with the speed of a jet hitting Mach 2.
She mouths something I can’t make out. Then, she does it again. “Jake.”
It feels as if time freezes. I turn around slowly, looking through the crowd, but it doesn’t take long. He’s standing in the back. Faded jeans, button up western shirt, and that huge fucking belt buckle he always wears. It’s part of his awards for his first championship—a championship he won while I was going through three days of labor. With his white Stetson, he oozes rodeo cowboy—which is just another reason to hate him. I turn, giving him my back, as I gaze up at Jeff.
