Page 115 of Unleashed

His hand tightened around mine as Erika fluffed the short train of my dress. I shot her a grateful smile. It was her steady support that helped me survive the last few sleepless nights of anticipation.

I was lucky, so lucky, to have both my parents walk me down the aisle. Mom’s injury two months ago had nearly thrown our plans into chaos, but with physical therapy, she made it to today. Seeing them both at my side as I walked toward Slade was a moment I’d treasure forever.

Slade tugged me along the makeshift aisle, leading us from the altar in Keaton and Charlene Abbott’s backyard. The sprawling lawn stretched to the beach, the ocean sparkling under the sun. As we made our way toward the photographer’s setup, I stole glances at my new husband. His grip was firm, reassuring, but the flicker of heat in his eyes told me he was just as eager as I was to steal away from the crowd.

"You look deep in thought," Slade murmured, his voice low as we reached the photographer.

"Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve kissed you properly," I teased, squeezing his hand.

His eyes darkened with amusement. "Soon. But first, we have photos to take. Smile for the camera."

I plastered on my best newlywed grin, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling from earlier. Erika had brought Lincoln Elliott as her date. He looked too much like his brother Michael—an unwelcome reminder of the past. But this was my day, my fresh start. I shoved the thought of Michael into the farthest corner of my mind, determined not to let him taint my happiness.

"Sweetheart?" Slade’s voice broke through my reverie.

I looked up to see him kicking off his shiny black dress shoes, rolling up his slacks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice suspicious.

Before I could protest, he scooped me up, bunched my train in his arms, and started walking us toward the water.

"Slade, don’t you dare!" I squealed, swatting his shoulder.

"Relax," he laughed, holding me tight as the waves lapped at his ankles. "I’ve got you."

"But my dress?—"

"It’s just a dress," he cut me off, grinning down at me. "Besides, you’re my wife now. Doesn’t that earn me some leniency?"

"You did not just use that card!" I gasped but couldn’t help laughing.

He spun me around as the photographer snapped away, the surf swirling around his legs. The joy of the moment was infectious, but then I caught a glimpse of something—or someone—out of the corner of my eye. A tall man stood further down the beach, watching us, his mirrored sunglasses flashing in the sunlight. My breath hitched. For a split second, I was sure it was Michael. But when Slade turned me again, the figure was gone.

My stomach twisted with unease. I tried to brush it off. I was imagining things. Michael wasn’t here. He wasn’t part of my life anymore. This was my day, our day.

Once the photos were done, Slade carried me back up the sand, letting me down gently so he could slip on his socks and shoes. We made our way up to the tent in the Abbotts’ backyard where cocktail hour was already in full swing.

"Do you want a drink?" Slade asked, slipping his arm around my waist.

"Rum and Coke."

He frowned. "How about just a soda for now? You know how you get with rum."

I rolled my eyes but relented. "Fine, soda it is."

As he headed to the bar, I made my way over to Erika and Lincoln, who were deep in conversation with Slade’s Aunt Myrna. Myrna whisked Erika away to meet her daughter the moment she learned Erika dabbled in jewelry design, leaving me alone with Lincoln.

"You look stunning," Lincoln said, his eyes sweeping over me in admiration.

"Thank you." I forced a smile. "I love the suit on you. Very sharp." The light gray color of his suit reminded me too much of Michael’s old wardrobe.

Lincoln’s gaze flickered around nervously before he reached into his pocket. "I, uh, have something for you."

I frowned. "Lincoln, you didn’t need to bring a gift. I told Erika?—"

"It’s not from me. It’s from Michael."

My heart skipped a beat. "I don’t want it."

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