Page 8 of Outcast
Holden was one of the foster kids who’d taken over the run-down auto shop on the edge of town.
I raised an eyebrow. “Having fun?”
He tugged at his shirt cuff, revealing a hint of ink on his wrist. “It’s a great event,” he said blandly.
Yeah, he looked like he wanted to be here about as much as I did. Only difference was, this was my world. Not Holden’s. He was stirring up nearly as much gossip as my pending nuptials with Allison.
Good. I finished off my drink and went to do my duty.
Allison rolled her eyes as soon as I approached her table. “Let me guess. Your parents sent you over here?”
I smiled gamely and held out my hand. “A gentleman never tells.”
She snorted indelicately as she let me draw her toward the dance floor. “I should save everyone a lot of trouble and refuse to dance with you.”
“And ruin my reputation?” I said. “Harsh.”
She slid her arms around my neck. “I’d be doing you a favor.”
“Maybe.” I bit my lip, torn between begging her to shut down everyone’s expectations and reluctance to disappoint them all—especially my parents. They’d lost so much. I just wanted to make them happy. “Maybe we should just date again?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You had more chemistry with the bartender.”
My steps faltered. “Was it that obvious?”
“To other people, no. To your best girl, Allison? Like a blazing neon sign.”
“Shit.”
“It’s not a bad thing, Emory. Aren’t you tired of suppressing one side of yourself?”
I regretted ever telling her about my fleeting urges because now she could call me on my shit.
“You’re just wishing you were dancing with Matteo right now,” I teased.
Allison had rekindled an affair with a dreamy Italian guy she fell for the summer after high school graduation. She’d gone to college, and by the time she graduated, he’d gone to the big house for getting caught up in a robbery with his cousins. He was the driver and claimed he didn’t know what they were up to, but he’d still done prison time.
The mayor’s daughter with an ex-con, though? It’d be a major scandal. Allison’s dad was up for re-election, so it was the worst possible timing.
“Matti would hate it here even more than you,” Allison said with a shrug.
“Fair.”
“Besides, once the election is over, I’ll tell my parents the truth. Matteo makes me happy, and I’m not giving that up. Don’t you want to figure out what would make you happy, Emory?”
“I’m happy.”
“No, your family is happy. I’m talking aboutyou.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Maybe ask the bartender for his number. You need to figure out what you really want before you’re in a marriage with someone you don’t even love.”
“It won’t go that far,” I said uneasily.
“I hope not, babe. Because you twist yourself into a pretzel to make everyone happy, but somehow, that never includes you.”
She pressed a kiss on my cheek to soften the blow, then stepped back as the song came to an end. I walked her back to her table, stomach churning with the knowledge she was right.
I was a people pleaser—but considering it was my fault my brother died when we were kids, I owed it to my parents to make them happy, didn’t I?
Adam wasn’t here anymore. I was their only son, and that meant I had to be twice as good.
