Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 14
“Did you see Hildy almost fall down the steps outside?” the woman snickers at Jay across the table.
Hildy pauses in the middle of brushing off the front of her dress and shoots the woman a tight-lipped smile.
Jay stretches his arms and rests his hands behind his head, “Don’t lie, y’all were lit by the time the wedding started.”
“I was completely sober,” Hildy snickers, “but I can’t say the same for the bride,” Hildy shoots the blonde woman another look, “Hannah kept refilling her champagne glass and no one realized it!”
Hannah rolls her eyes and then turns to Bowen, “And I’m surprised to see you here,” she says with an accusatory tone.
Bowen looks over his shoulder, confused, “Why?”
I train my eyes on Hannah’s hand as she traces random designs over his back with her fingertips. I glance at Hildy, then Jay, and then back to Bowen. No one seems fazed by any of this, so I continue to watch with intrigue.
“You’ve been MIA,” Hannah shrugs, “you’re never at Hildy’s anymore.”
Bowen hangs one arm over the back of his chair, looking up at her, “Yeah,” he deadpans, “I’ve been busy.”
“Mm-hm,” Hannah retorts with a roll of her eyes, “as long as you haven’t ditched us for some skank.”
Jay lets out a whoop of laughter that cuts through the air like thunder. He can’t contain himself he’s laughing so hard. Hildy freezes, a flush creeping up her face. Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Hannah, trying to figure out what to say. My expression remains unchanged as I stare up at this woman who seems intent on pretending that I don’t exist.
Bowen presses his mouth together and pinches the bridge of his nose, then reaches over and slides his hand over my thigh.
Jesus Christ, these people…
I set my elbow on the table and lean into Hannah’s field of view, shooting her an enthusiastic smile, “I’m Brett,” I raise my hand, giving her a wave, “the skank—in the flesh.”
Jay thrusts his arm across the table, pointing at me, then looks at Bowen, “This is why I like her,” he declares.
Meanwhile, Hildy finally recovers from her awkward stupor and rejoins the conversation, “Hannah, this is Brett Sorensen, Bo’s girlfriend.”
Oh, good, I exist again.
“Brett,” Hildy turns to me, “this is Hannah Bailey.”
Hannah pauses, raises her eyebrows, and opens her mouth in polite surprise. But I know that look; the one where one minute, you’re perfectly content and then, in the blink of an eye, one sentence throws you off balance and you realize reality isn’t what you thought it was. Two seconds—literally, two seconds—after meeting this woman, I saw the catch in her chest and her brain short-circuit as she made sense of Hildy’s words.
All she can offer is, “No way!”
And now something tells me she doesn’t think it’s so nice to meet me. But before I can respond and make the situation even more awkward, two women approach the table. A woman who looks to be in her forties with sandy brown spiral curls plants her fingers on the table and glares down at Jay facetiously.
“And where is your brother this evening?” she asks with an accusatory tone, bringing her other hand to the hip of her lavender maxi dress, “I’ve seen your dad and the rest of the department, but he’s nowhere to be found.”
Jay glances up at her with a smile when he recognizes her, “Out of town,” he replies, “at another wedding. Something about how the best man is required to show up…”
“Ah,” the woman nods in acknowledgement. She scans the table and then does a doubletake when she sees me, “I don’t think I know you, I’m Cheree Schwartz, I’m the records specialist at the station.”
“And, basically, everything else...” Jay adds.
“Basically,” Cheree gives a half shrug in agreement.
“This is Brett Sorensen, Bo’s girlfriend,” he introduces me.
“Nice to meet you!” she exclaims, and then turns over her shoulder to the other woman standing next to her, “This is Sydney, she just started with us.”
I’ve been listening to Cheree, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Sydney. She sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd, looking more stunning in her black backless jumpsuit and delicate gold jewelry than the bride in her pearl-encrusted lace gown. She has long, icy blonde hair, fair skin, and greyish blue eyes that seem to pull the corners of her coral lips into a warm smile.
She steps around the table and extends her hand to me, “Sydney Van Doren,” she squeezes my hand firmly with an intoxicating grin, “I do public relations, press releases, social media, all that.”
It makes total sense, because Sydney looks like a primetime news anchor, with her perfectly styled hair, tailored outfit, and immaculate makeup that makes her eyes glimmer and her smile pop.
As Cheree goes on about Sydney, singing her praises, I suddenly notice the bizarre exchange occurring around the table. Hildy’s demeanor changes on a dime, and where before she looked embarrassed and annoyed with Hannah’s lack of couth, now she’s glaring at Sydney with utter disdain. She glances at Hannah across the table, who’s chewing the inside of her cheek while her eyes dart between Hildy and Sydney. When I look at Bowen, he’s watching Jay intently, trying to keep a straight face while one side of his mouth threatens a smile.
And then there’s Jay, who’s been transfixed on Sydney since she arrived at the table. I don’t think he’s blinked once since she introduced herself to me. To say she’s very attractive is an understatement, so it’s not surprising that she draws such attention. But this seems…different. While Cheree speaks to Bowen, Sydney notices Jay ogling her and locks eyes with him, casting him a smile that’s slightly more than just polite. When she does, he bites his lip and turns back to the table. But that’s not the end of it.
Hildy, having witnessed the brief exchange, maintains her death stare at Sydney. But when Sydney notices, she doesn’t demure. Instead, she’s unabashedly indifferent. Doubling down, Sydney holds Hildy’s eyes and, without even moving her mouth, casts her a fiery expression that nearly makes my jaw drop before she casually looks away. When Jay makes the fatal mistake of acknowledging Hildy, whose gaze could rival Medusa’s, he immediately glances elsewhere and she turns away with a huff.
I don’t know why, but I find the entire exchange exhilarating. Maybe it’s because I’m still new, semi-anonymous to many of these people. I play no part in their personal dramas that inadvertently spill out onto the reception table after a few drinks. They don’t know me, and I don’t know them, so for now it’s like watching a live episode of some dumpster fire show on Bravo TV that I’ll text Barrett about later.
Except I secretly hope there will be another episode later on…
Later, after the cake cutting and first dances, I don’t bother bringing it up while Hildy and I wait at the far end of the country club’s front porch for Bowen and Jay to return from the parking lot. I can see them from our vantage point, standing at Hildy’s SUV, loading her tote bags jammed with all her pre-wedding clothes, makeup, and tangled cords of hair dryers and curling irons.
Eventually, Bowen starts back across the parking lot as Jay continues rearranging the contents of the cargo area. He leaps up the front steps and stops near the front door. In the lamplight, I spy Hannah leaning against the white railing, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. Hildy and I are too far away to hear what they’re saying, but Hannah lifts her arm and offers Bowen the cigarette, to which he shakes his head no.
“I’m so glad Bo quit a few years ago,” Hildy sighs.
“Huh?” I tilt my head toward her.
“In high school, he smoked like a chimney.”
I screw up my face, “For real?”
I’m glad he did, too. That’s fucking disgusting.
Hannah pushes herself away from the railing and takes a step toward Bowen. She stands on her toes, leaning closer to say something in his ear. I see his jaw move in response, but he’s facing away from us now.
Hildy peers into the window reflection and wipes away the smudged eyeliner under her eyes, “I think he handles stress better than he used to.”
“How did he used to handle it?”
“Fighting,” Hildy grins at me, “total Thunderdome.”
“What?” I scoff at her in disbelief.
Bowen is tall and muscular, but I can’t envision him getting into a physical altercation with anyone. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t smash things, he barely ever gets angry.
Hildy furrows her brow and nods, “Oh yeah, he got in trouble all the time—fighting, sneaking into bars, generally being everywhere he wasn’t supposed to. He and Jay were big into street racing, too,” she sniggers, “every year in high school, they threatened to kick Bo off the soccer team.”
“What changed?” I ask, peering at Bowen’s silhouette, trying to imagine him doing any of these things.
“I don’t know,” she chirps, “maybe getting a real job and growing up? Now,” Hildy continues, “if he has a problem, he just chain smokes for an hour, figures it out, and then he’s fine.”
I jerk my head around, “Really?”
“You’ve never seen him do that?”
“No,” I shake my head in disbelief.
Hildy arches her brow and gazes at Bowen in the distance, “Wow.” She sounds impressed.
Finally, Bowen leaves Hannah at the railing to finish her cigarette. He doesn’t see us at first, but veers to the right when he sees us standing in the shadows at the corner of the building.
“Why are y’all standing in the dark?”
I cross my arms, “Just waiting on you,” I peer over his shoulder with a tight-lipped smile, “Something better going on over there?”
“Jack shit going on over there,” Bowen drapes his arm around my neck and whisks me around the corner with him, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Be right over,” Hildy says over her shoulder as she heads across the patio toward Hannah.
Once in the garden out back, Bowen leads me through the crowd into the middle of the dance floor and pulls me close to him. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, glad to be hidden among a hundred other people, pressed against him and swaying to some John Legend song. I look up at him and then avert my eyes with a smile.
Bowen catches me and narrows his eyes, “What?”
I cast him a sideways glance, “I’m glad you don’t smoke like a chimney anymore.”
He cracks a smile, “Where’d you hear that?”
“Hildy.”
“God,” he rolls his eyes, “why was she telling you about that?”
“No reason,” I shake my head, “you didn’t take Hannah’s cigarette and she just mentioned it.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Just about all your antics in high school…” I hesitate, glancing around the dance floor, “so maybe you can tell me why Hannah doesn’t like me.”
Bowen knits his brow in confusion, “She doesn’t like you?”
“So obvious!” my voice shoots up an octave, “She comes over and starts touching on you while I’m sitting right there, acting like I don’t exist the entire time. And,” I add, “if she’s a close friend of Hildy’s, there’s no way she didn’t know about me before tonight. So, what’s her problem—did you used to date her?”
He shakes his head dismissively, “Hannah’s cool, but she reads too much into things.”
“Like what?”
“We all went to high school together and we were really close. But she’s the type of person who interprets things how she wants to instead of how things really are. I don’t know if she ever had a thing for me, but if she did, it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
“Why?” I hood my eyes, “Because you were so popular?” I taunt as my grin widens.
“You can fuck right the hell off with that,” Bowen chuckles as he pulls me closer and kisses me. He scans the room to make sure Hannah isn’t close-by, “And, truth be told, she can be kind of a moron.”
“Oh?”
“Let me put it this way—Hannah’s a nurse and she works at the same hospital as my mom, but if she walked into my room, I’d make peace with God right then.”
“That’s awful,” I chuckle.
“You think I’m kidding. My mom is one of the best, but that place can’t be the pillar of excellence they claim to be if they still let Hannah Bailey be a nurse.”
I give a shrug, “When it comes down to it, an A graduate is the same as a C graduate.”
“Well, she definitely gets a C when it comes to picking guys. The one she has on the line right now doesn’t look like he has a clue.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t even know she brought anyone.”
Bowen snickers, “Hildy said she might’ve told people they have an open relationship.”
“Does he know that?” I laugh.
“Good question. I don’t know where she finds all these simps,” Bowen says disapprovingly, his vanity on full display, “but she needs to find herself a real man.”
“Ah,” I nod, “like you?”
Bowen tips up his chin and shoots me a smug look, “I haven’t heard any complaints yet.”
Just then, something catches my eye, or rather, someone. Through the crowd, I see Jay dancing with someone, but Hildy is nowhere in sight. As the crowd moves, I realize he’s dancing with Sydney. At first glance, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—dancing with an acquaintance at a wedding is a relatively benign activity. However, after the weird vibes back at the table, it’s clear this situation is anything but benign.
“Speaking of complaints,” I say, eyeing Jay’s hand low on Sydney’s back, “what’s the story with Jay and Sydney?”
“Story?” Bowen asks, trying to remain straight-faced.
I shoot him a look, “When she walked up to the table, you could cut the tension with a fucking knife. So, who is she—like, really?”
Bowen follows my eyes through the crowd, looking on in silence as Sydney gazes at Jay, seemingly enraptured while he speaks, “That, right there,” he says after a few moments, “is a long story…”
●●●
After a while, I start to forget about Hannah, her awkward introduction, and her seemingly imaginary date. As the country club begins to empty following the bride and groom’s send-off, I hit up the restroom before the drive back to Bowen’s house.
I give myself one last look in the gilded mirror over the sinks and exit the restroom into the dark corridor. The silence tells me I’m one of the last guests left in the country club. That is, until I hear the clicking of heels echoing in the marble hallway. Then I hear a voice, much louder and coming closer.
“You’ve been talking to him an awful lot,” a man says, and he’s approaching quickly, “what’s going on?”
A woman’s voice responds, filled with irritation, “Why are you even asking me that?”
I immediately recognize her voice and freeze. Glancing to my left, I see a doorway leading into another room and tip-toe through it, out of sight. The room is lined with racks and hangers and to my left is a countertop with giant wooden shutters where a wall would be. I’m in an empty coat check. I flatten myself against the wall and watch two silhouettes materialize behind the slits in the shades.
“What is he to you, anyway?” The man’s voice is accusatory, but I don’t recognize him.
I slow my breathing, trying not to move a muscle.
“He’s Hildy’s brother, they’re my best friends, what do you expect?”
My jaw drops and I laugh silently to myself. Now, I find this immensely entertaining.
“I didn’t expect to see you hanging all over him at the bar.”
Silence.
“Bet you didn’t think anyone saw that, huh?” he continues.
I arch my brow, apparently, I missed that one, too.
“He’s my friend, it’s not like that.”
I roll my eyes, I’ve only known you for a couple hours, ma’am, and I beg to differ.
As I listen to Hannah stammer away and dismiss her date’s suspicions, it occurs to me that I would’ve been an easy—and cliché—excuse for her, as well. He even has a girlfriend! But maybe there’s a reason she doesn’t want to outright acknowledge that, either.
“Maybe he shouldn’t be your friend,” the man snaps.
My eyes round, shots fired…
Hannah lowers her voice, “What?”
The silence between them is thick and contentious, lasting longer than I expect. I wait, holding my breath, to see what happens next.
Finally, his voice cuts through the air like a hot knife through butter, “Either stay away from him or we’re done here.”
This guy must feel some kind of threatened if he just pulled out an ultimatum like that.
I see Hannah plant her hands on her hips and look at the floor. A moment later, she raises her head with nothing but indignant silence.
“You know what?” He throws his arm in the air, “Find your own ride home.”
Hannah’s date turns on his heel and storms down the hallway, leaving her in front of the coat check. I stand just on the other side of the shade, watching her from the darkness. I know Bowen is waiting for me at the entrance, but I can’t move until she does. I glance down at my hands, relieved when I realize I didn’t bring my clutch, I left it with Bowen. The last thing I need is my phone to go off and Hannah realize I’ve been spying on her domestic drama from the shadows of a coat closet.
Finally, she starts back down the hall toward the entrance, her date long gone by now.
I never actually saw Hannah’s date. I never learned his name. He’s a phantom that blended in with every other face at the wedding. I only heard his angry voice through the wooden shades, a silent witness to their discord, and I won’t see him outside after he disappears into the blackness of the night.
I wait another couple of minutes before emerging from the coat check into the deserted hallway. When I make it back out onto the front porch, Bowen’s leaning against the railing, my beige clutch at his side and his other hand in his pocket, looking more comfortable carrying it than I ever did.
