Matched, page 26
“Everything.” The word was barely audible but it boomed through his ears anyway. “Typhoons and rainbows. Earthquakes and sunshine. Thunderstorms and spring flowers. Everything.”
“That good or bad?”
“I don’t know.” She inhaled a shuddery breath. “But I do know you can be happy with someone else. Anyone else. You should be happy, Will. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy. But I can’t be the one who makes you happy. I can’t.”
His chest hurt from all the pounding behind his ribs and his arms trembled from the effort of holding her without squeezing so hard she couldn’t leave. “I can fix the Billy stuff. I can make it go away.”
“Will, let go.” More tears streaked down her cheeks. “You have to let me go.”
She didn’t mean taking his hands off her.
She meant taking his heart off her.
“You’re wrong,” he said.
She pulled out of his grasp. “So go get a second opinion.” She wasn’t mean, wasn’t angry. Simply matter-of-fact. She brushed a tear off her cheek. A pained look creased her forehead. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry.” She took two backward steps, then turned and fled the backyard.
He followed after her. “Lindsey. Lindsey, wait.” She wasn’t leaving. She couldn’t leave. They weren’t done.
Even tomorrow, they wouldn’t be done. They had a future. They had things to work out, but they were meant to be together. He was hers. He’d always been hers.
She kept fleeing. Head down, power-walking away. Sacha stepped between the houses and dangled something that flashed in the light. Her dark hair lifted in the wind, and her dark eyes flashed a storm’s coming warning.
Lindsey stumbled to a stop. Will saw her hand reach out to touch Sacha’s.
“No—” he started.
But it was too late. Sacha had already handed over the keys to her car. “Leave it at the airport.”
“Stop!” Will said.
“Let her go, William.” The vision voice. She was using the vision voice on him. “She’s meant to go, honey. She did what she needed here. She’s meant to go.”
Lindsey skittered into Sacha’s Winnebago, fired the engine, and then his life, his love—she sped away down Billy Brenton Lane.
And Will stopped.
All of him. He just stopped.
Stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped feeling his heart beating. He hunched over, broken.
He knew where Lindsey lived. Knew where she worked. He had her phone number, her email address and he knew how to get in touch with her family.
But knowing where she was didn’t change that she didn’t want him.
And not because he was Billy Brenton.
But because even Will Truitt had never been good enough for her.
A steady hand settled on his shoulder, right where his smiley face tattoo burned his skin. “Come inside. Sit with me awhile.”
“You—you let her go. You helped her go.”
“You have to let her go too. It’s her journey now, and you can’t help with what she must do.”
His hairs stood on end. The hairs on his neck, on his arms, on his legs. He shook Sacha’s hand off. “Tell Aunt Jessie I’ll call her later,” he choked out.
And Will left too.
Lindsey didn’t believe in him anymore. This time, he had to be the one who believed in himself.
Chapter Twenty
WILL SPENT SATURDAY night holed up in a seedy motel halfway between Pickleberry Springs and Gellings Air Force Base. He sent Aunt Jessie a text message to call him anytime, sent Sacha a text message that he still loved her even if he didn’t want to talk to her for the next forever, but she owed him not moving away, and then he sent Mikey a message that he’d hit the Dumbass Hall of Fame and discovered it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but he’d be in Nashville on Sunday night.
But first, Will had to get his dog.
After lunch on Sunday, he pulled over at a modest house not far from Gellings Air Force Base. He had a nameless guitar instead of Vera and no dog on the seat beside him yet.
He also had a lifetime’s worth of achy breaky songs bleeding out his heart, but none of them sounded like music.
After an obligatory knock, he used his key to let himself into his sister’s house. Voices echoed somewhere in the house—more than just Mari Belle’s and Paisley’s voices. He turned around—he’d call Mari Belle and have her bring Wrigley out—then a squeaky bark greeted him and Biscuits, Mari Belle’s terrier, lunged for his leg.
Chicken, her boxer, ambled into the foyer for some sniffing-and-greeting business. Wrigley poked his head out of the dining room. So did Mari Belle.
“Aw, Will,” she sighed.
Paisley barreled around the corner too. “Uncle Will! Where’s—”
Mari Belle snagged her daughter and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Go get Uncle Will a piece of pie and a glass of milk.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She danced off, and Mari Belle eyed him. His shoulders crept to his ears.
Been a long time since she looked at him like that.
Wasn’t undeserved. Some, but not all.
Wrigley stood, gave a lazy shake, then ambled to him, sniffing, peering around behind Will. Where’s my girl? his dog seemed to ask.
Will bent and gave Wrigley a good rubdown and nudged Biscuits off his leg.
Wasn’t anything else he could do.
“C’mon, sit down.” Mari Belle led him to her dining room, all three dogs following along at their own pace. “My apologies for my brother,” she said to her guests. “His brain took a vacation a month ago and his heart’s paying for it today.”
He wasn’t feeling like being Billy Brenton today, so if they were expecting another song-and-dance, they were in for disappointment.
Mari Belle yanked on his shirt and dragged him into a seat. “Anna, Jackson, this is Will. I don’t know if you were properly introduced the other night. Will, my neighbors.”
He remembered the lady from the meet-and-greet. She smiled at him. “Hi,” she said in a Minnesota accent, and on the starstruck scale, she was doing a right good job of almost keeping to the bottom.
He nodded.
Mari Belle shoved him into a chair, then tweaked his ear.
He yelped.
“I swear to sweet baby Jesus,” she said, “if you don’t say something, I’m gonna whoop your hind end until you can’t sit for a week.”
He leaned back and folded his arms.
Like to see her try.
’Sides, wouldn’t be any worse than what he was doing to himself.
Mari Belle sat next to him, still giving him the mother of all don’t be a dumbass looks.
“Here’s your pie, Uncle Will.” God bless Paisley. Sweet girl hadn’t picked up on the ugly flowing around this morning. “Miss Anna made it.”
“Thank you, peanut.”
He slid Mari Belle a happy now? glare.
He could talk.
Didn’t want to, but he could do it.
“Hope you like s’mores pie,” Anna said. “It would’ve been sweet potato, but Jackson doesn’t share.”
Will eyed the chocolate and marshmallows, arranged all pretty and neat on a graham cracker crust. His stomach rolled over. “Looks right good.” Looked like it would make him sick.
Made him think of Lindsey’s ice cream. Her s’mores maker. Her licking melted chocolate and marshmallow off his fingers.
“Momma’s trying to teach Miss Anna to bake biscuits,” Paisley said, “So Miss Anna’s teaching Momma and me to bake pie. What’s your favorite pie, Uncle Will? And what about Miss—”
“Paisley, the dogs need to go out,” Mari Belle said.
“They just came in,” Paisley said.
“Have you finished the dishes?”
Paisley slid from the table again. “If y’all are talking grown-up stuff, I can still hear you in the kitchen.”
“Go.”
“Leave her be,” Will said.
Mari Belle’s don’t be a dumbass eyeball turned into the dual eyeballs of don’t disagree with me in front of my daughter.
Will stared right back.
She picked up a coffee cup with a classic Mari Belle sigh. “What did she do this time?”
Wasn’t talking about Paisley, and he knew it.
But the stink of it all was that Lindsey hadn’t done anything. Nothing but been honest with him, and he couldn’t handle it.
They’d all warned him. He hadn’t listened.
“You talk to Aunt Jessie today?” he said.
Mari Belle’s lashes fluttered in one of her annoyed eye flickers, but she nodded over a sigh.
Didn’t much matter what Will’s love life looked like. Aunt Jessie’s would be hard enough on all of them.
Probably he should’ve offered to stay behind in Pickleberry Springs and help, but they were better off without him right now. He’d hire extra caretakers if Aunt Jessie needed help, he’d make sure Donnie saw the best doctors, he’d damn well make sure Sacha stayed in town and that Aunt Jessie patched things up with her best friend, if she hadn’t already. But emotionally, he couldn’t be what they needed. So he’d go to Nashville. Tour rehearsals started soon, and there was a mountain’s worth of publicity and other business stuff he had to attend to. And he’d gone and committed himself like a dummy to being in Bliss on Saturday night.
He’d been certain Lindsey was scared of what she knew.
He’d had no idea she’d just been being honest.
Friends can kiss, right? she’d said fifteen years ago. And he’d missed the clue.
I don’t do love, I don’t do commitment and I can only give you three weeks. It’s my rule, she’d said this time.
And again, he’d been the dummy who ignored it.
We’re a better match now than fifteen years ago, but you’re still better off with anyone but me.
He eyed the pie again. Didn’t hurt so bad this time, Lindsey running away from him.
Might could’ve been because he was numb. Might could’ve been because he still had Mari Belle and Paisley and Aunt Jessie and Wrigley and Mikey and Sacha.
Or might could’ve been, he was lying to himself.
“You quit talking again, I’m gonna yank that knot till your kidneys bleed.”
Paisley leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, watching and being uncharacteristically quiet. Across the table, Anna and Jackson shared a look. Anna had been watching Will curiously. “Did you break up with your girlfriend?”
Will’s grip tightened around his fork. He needed to eat a bite. Prove to Mari Belle he was fine. Ease those worry lines creasing Paisley’s forehead. Get out from the spotlight of a stranger asking after his personal affairs.
“She wasn’t his girlfriend,” Mari Belle said.
“I was going to be a junior bridesmaid and babysit,” Paisley stage-whispered. She sent Will a dirty look that should’ve made her momma proud.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mari Belle said with one of her sighs. “Paisley, honey, Uncle Will will buy you a new tea set instead, okay?”
Paisley heaved her junior version of a Mari Belle sigh. “Uncle Will, would you like some Pepto to go with your pie?”
“Oh, honey, you’ve got it bad,” Anna murmured.
Will gave her the Don’t talk to Billy Brenton like you know him look.
She sipped something out of her teacup. “Is this because she’s a Yankee?” Anna said.
“Yankees aren’t all so bad,” Jackson drawled into his pie. “Once you give ’em a chance.”
Will’s jaw went unhinged and dangled. “Did y’all call her a Yankee?”
“Unlike some families,” Mari Belle said to Jackson, “we judge people on who they are, not where they’re from. And this girl—”
“Watch your mouth,” Will growled.
“—has a history of wreaking havoc on my brother’s emotions,” Mari Belle finished.
“My experience, the only ones that get to you are the only ones that can make you truly happy,” Jackson said.
“And exactly how many have gotten to you?” Anna said.
“Oh, three, maybe four.” But his grin and wink aimed at Anna said otherwise.
One girl in a lifetime could do a man like that.
And Will’s one girl didn’t want him. Again.
He shoved his pie away.
“Does he look happy to you?” Mari Belle deadpanned.
“Darkest days of a man’s life are the ones where he’s found his girl but doesn’t think he can have her.” Jackson forked another bite of pie. “Don’t reckon she’s got it much easier. Anna Grace gave me a right good fight about needing to do that independent woman thing, not wanting to follow me around all the time when the military moves me, but your life makes ours look simple.”
Independent woman thing. Yeah, Lindsey had that. Always had.
“Lady doesn’t like the spotlight, does she?” Jackson continued. “Your crew scared her right good.”
Will’s head jerked up. His BillyVision crew. They’d been behind her during her song Friday night. They’d scared her away. He’d have to talk to them about—no. He clenched his jaw.
Lindsey would’ve left anyway. It was what she did. Difference was, this time, she’d told him she would.
“It’s so easy to lose your own identity in a regular relationship, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it until it’s over,” Anna said. “But being a superstar’s girlfriend? Getting all that attention? That’s even harder.”
Will grunted. He was the problem. His job was the problem. What about hers? She wasn’t even doing what she was supposed to be doing.
And what would her life look like if she walked away from a successful career to be a full-time psychic matchmaker on the road with him?
His stomach clenched.
Lindsey wasn’t built like Sacha. She liked having a traditional job. She liked stability. She liked taking care of herself.
And being with Will—being with Billy Brenton—would’ve made her give all that up eventually. He could’ve found her another job—lots of guys’ wives ran charitable foundations, worked part-time from the road, found worthy causes to champion—but she hadn’t even given him the chance.
Because her psychic woo-woo matchmaker senses went haywire where he was concerned.
Mari Belle let loose another of her sighs. “I don’t think she was after your fame and fortune, I’ll give her that. But I still think you’re better off without her. Is Mikey going to Nashville with you?”
Nashville was another problem.
Lindsey didn’t like crowds. She’d been rejected by friends in college because of her gift and by the townspeople of Bliss because of her job. Being Billy Brenton’s girlfriend would put her in a spotlight no matter what Will did.
Another place to be judged.
Another place to be rejected.
He got it.
He did.
But she still didn’t want to give him a chance to make it all right.
He shoved to his feet. Mari Belle was right. Lindsey was right. He and Lindsey were better off apart. “I gotta hit the road.” He patted his leg, and Wrigley pushed to his feet once again. “Call me if any of y’all need anything.”
Paisley darted into the room. “Don’t go, Uncle Will. You barely got here.”
He squeezed her hard, a big ol’ lump threatening to choke him. “Miss you already, peanut. I’ll talk to your momma about that plan you had for the summer.”
She let him go with a whoop. He nodded to Jackson and Anna. “Appreciate y’all watching out for these two.” Even if he didn’t appreciate them butting into his own personal private life.
Mari Belle walked him to the door and wrapped him in a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, okay? Call me. Every day. Every hour, actually. That would be better.”
He nodded.
She worried. He knew.
He worried too. But he couldn’t afford to go to that dark place that was creeping at him from all angles again.
He had to go be Billy Brenton.
LINDSEY’S SKIN itched everywhere.
She’d taken off the wedding dress over two hours ago, but she still felt the satin and lace, still smelled the flowers, still felt the ache in her cheeks from forcing a smile throughout Nat’s photo shoot this afternoon.
And she wasn’t done yet. Because Nat wanted to celebrate the launch of her new line of Bliss Originals bridal gowns. So here Lindsey was, on a crowded Friday night, hunched into an impossibly small personal space bubble in Suckers, watching the out-of-town wedding crowd.
The guests came in for weekend weddings in Bliss. They came to Suckers to hook up with other wedding guests, then disappeared as if they’d never been here. The ones who smelled like one-night stands, she didn’t mind. She’d done enough itch-scratching in her life to get it. But the ones who smelled like desperation?
Those made her head and her heart hurt.
She could spare them long-term pain if she interfered. But she didn’t know how to be tactful about it.
Or why any of them would listen to a random crazy woman in a bar who was doing a horrible job of hiding her own personal heartbreak.
The itch in Lindsey’s skin flared.
Will would be back tomorrow for the Battle of the Boyfriends, and he was bringing a camera crew. Doing what he promised for Bliss.
She missed him.
She didn’t have the right, but she missed him.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Pepper said beside her.
Lindsey forced a smile. “Yep. A blast. And none of the dresses burst into flames for being worn by a divorce attorney.”
“Or pre-brides.” Pepper’s shoulders slumped.
“Pre-brides?”
Pepper grimaced. “Is there really no legend of the pre-bride in Bliss? That seems so unlikely.”
“If there were, I would’ve heard of it,” Kimmie said over her coconut cream pie on Lindsey’s other side. It was practically the first thing she’d said all day. “We have the widow-maker, the groomsman curse, and the golden bouquet hex. But the pre-bride legend? That’s a new one.”
