their phone instead of mine. We’re all on edge, just waiting for the call that tells us it’s go time. By go time I mean time to settle the score with the asshole who ruined my life.
“Who is it?” Molly asks, taking Horse’s hand in hers.
I clear my throat. “It’s a blocked number,” I say, answering the call with a short, “Ridge.”
I hear sobbing. “Cody. I need you to come to me. I can’t go through with the wedding,” Lainey says. My eyes widen, my heart hammers, and my palms grow sweaty with unease. I lift my arm to check the time. It’s late as fuck. One a.m. It’s technically already her wedding day. I want to ask if she’s okay, but she’s obviously not. One glance at my friends and it tells me they know who it is and why she’s calling. They all go back to their business of chatting and staring into the flames.
“Where are you at?” Her sobbing is uncontrollable. “Are you sure you want me to come over?”
“My friend’s house. It’s on the other side of the bay. Hang on, let me find the address,” she says, slurring the last word. “I need you. Please.” If she needs me I’ll be there for her no matter the circumstances. She gives me the address in a rush. I have to ask her to repeat it twice. I know the address. If my memory serves me correct the street is literally right across the water from Lainey’s house. Who does she know over there?
I sigh. “How much have you had to drink, Fast Lane? Have you called your fiancé?” I can’t even use his name. Tonight I was conditioning myself to forget he existed. It’s not working out in my advantage.
She wails. “Don’t you think I know I should want to call Dax? I fucking want you, Cody. I need to see you. Talk to you. Be with you. Right now.”
“And you won’t regret it in the morning?” It’s a valid question. Especially if she wakes up in a few hours and actually makes it to her wedding on time. Seeing me tonight is as good as putting a nail in the coffin of her marriage.
“I can’t regret you. Any part of you—any part of us. I never will. I’m not marrying him. I can’t be married to anyone else.” My heart skips a beat. Is this too good to be true? What phone is she calling me from?
I need to find out for myself. “I’ll be right there,” I reply. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and replaces the tired worn out feeling that’s haunted me as of late. I bid my friends farewell and tell them they should stay and hang out. Horse is wary, Molly rolls her eyes, and Van tells me a shortcut to get to the address Lainey is at. I head to my bedroom, pull on a ball cap, squirt on some cologne, and rush out the door.
Twenty minutes later I’m standing in front of a huge house that looks as if the gardener quit weeks ago. There’s no car in the driveway, but there could be one in the garage. For all intents and purposes this house is vacant. I look down at my phone to make sure I’m at the correct address. When I look up, Lainey opens the front door. She makes sure I see her then disappears back into the house and leaves the door open behind her for me to follow. She doesn’t greet me, or show her face.
A bad feeling washes over me. I’m in the business of dishing out bad feeling, so I tend to listen to my gut more frequently than the average Joe. Walking quietly and quickly down the cobblestone walkway, up the front steps and then through the door, I don’t take my hand off the concealed gun that lives on my belt strap. Some people can’t leave their house without their phone, or their wallet. I can do without anything else except my gun. I need it to feel safe in this new, sharp world. People play Cowboys and Indians in the grocery store these days. I have so many questions and I know there’s only one way to get answers.
Pushing through the front door, I look around. The air is stagnant and there’s white, dusty sheets draped over furniture. “I’m in here,” Lainey yells in a stuffy voice. “I’m trying to fix my face.” Like I care what her face