Page 136 of The Bridges I've Burned

I can’t lose anyone else.

She squeezed my hand. “I get that. Falling in love with someone is always a risk.”

Falling in love…

Oh, holy shit.

A grin tugged at her lips as she understood what was going on in my head. “But I want you to actually think about it. What scares you the most? Taking the risk or the regret or wondering what if for the rest of your life?”

Before I got to answer, Macon walked in. “Hey, sorry to break up the party, but we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“What now?” Marin wailed.

Shit, did I fuck something up? I’d been so meticulous with that list…

“I just got a cryptic and really confusing phone call from Zander. Apparently, there are a few reporters outside the inn, and he’s worried they might come here.”

“Here? Why?”

“He said he’d explain when we got there,” Macon said, his brow pinched with concern. “I told him we’d drop by and grab him clothes. Sounds like he didn’t want to leave.”

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Macon answered honestly.

As we began to gather up our things and prepare to leave, I couldn’t help but wonder…

What news story would be big enough to bring reporters all the way to Ocracoke?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

If I happened to believe in God, today would be one of those days that had me seriously asking myself what I’d done to anger the big man upstairs.

Ever since I’d left Elena in that bed this morning, it was like the universe was actively trying to keep us apart.

I couldn’t really fault Marin for fainting.

That shit was scary.

When Elena had called to tell me, I had known Macon must be beside himself with worry, which was why this wedding needed to go off without a hitch.

Marin didn’t need any more added stress.

With Elena now tasked with overseeing pre-wedding tasks, I headed over to the inn to help with setup. If I could race through this, I was hoping I could make it back to the rental and steal an hour or two with Elena. But Molly had the longest fucking checklist I’d ever seen, and after a few hours, I thought we’d never finish.

It was a small-town wedding, not a fucking coronation.

But it was also my brother’s small-town wedding, so I put my frustration aside and strung every fairy light, lined up every chair, and set every place setting for the rehearsal dinner.

It was exhausting.

Around late afternoon, I headed to the back lawn, where the ceremony would be, and looked around for Molly—aka the blonde dictator—to see if she needed anything else before I headed out to change.

I found her barreling toward me instead.

“We need to talk,” Molly said, her voice clipped as she grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the house.

Okay…

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