Page 138 of The Bridges I've Burned

Lifting my phone back up, I called Macon.

“Hey!” he greeted me. He sounded light and happy. His fiancée and baby were healthy, and he was getting married tomorrow. Life was good.

I was about to ruin that.

Maybe I should have never come back.

“Hey,” I echoed, although with far less enthusiasm. “I need you guys to come to the inn a bit early. Can you do that?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Why?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but there are a few reporters outside the inn.”

“What? No way,” he exclaimed. “Why?”

“I’ll explain when you get here, but can you swing by the rental and grab my clothes for the rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah? You okay?” His enthusiasm was waning.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Okay, sure.” His voice was now full of doubt. “Marin and Elena are getting ready, but I’m sure I can persuade them to pack up and finish there if it’s that important?” he asked.

“Yeah, that would be great. I don’t want the guys wandering over there.”

“All right,” he agreed. “See you soon.”

“Oh, and, Macon?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t say anything to them when you get here. No matter what they tell you.”

He didn’t respond, and I wondered if I’d just lost my brother’s trust for good.

In another life, Macon could have been a decent bodyguard.

That being said, having to stand there inside the inn, watching my brother protect his fiancée and the woman I loved from the onslaught of those reporters was excruciating.

My hand fisted the doorknob so hard that I thought it might crack.

His face was a grim line as he used the girls’ garment bags as a makeshift shield. There were only three of them, but, man, they were persistent, huddled around my family like vultures. Marin’s and Elena’s expressions were a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

“I’m going to go tell those fuckers to get off my damn sidewalk.” Jake stormed toward the door. “I’ve seen enough movies to know that paparazzi can’t be on private property, and if they think I’m some country bumpkin?—”

I had to leap back from the door so that I wasn’t seen by the photographers as Jake ran down to meet them. He distracted the three men enough that Macon was able to pick up the pace and get the girls inside quicker.

I wonder if that was his intention all along…

The door swung open, and the three of them walked in, dropping a heap of garment and duffel bags on the floor.

“What the fuck is going on?” my brother boomed, his steely gaze turning to me, reminding me exactly why he was sheriff of this county. “One of those guys just asked me what I thought about my brother becoming the newest member of Manic at Midnight.”

“You didn’t answer him, did you?” I blanched.

His expression hardened. “Of course I didn’t. But you gotta help me out here, Zander, because those fuckers seem to know a hell of a lot more about you than we do.”

I swallowed audibly as my eyes found Elena’s. She was silent. So fucking silent.

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