Page 42 of Marry Me, Maybe?
He must be going through hell.
The entire town was lit up like a damn Fourth of July bonfire with the gossip of Gray sleeping with his son’s fiancé.
It was in theBristlecone Bulletin’sgossip column: “Magnuson Ménage?” scrawled in bold pink ink beside a sketch of a pitchfork and broken heart. It was the talk of the poker table at The Dusty Spur. At The Dolly Stop, Dolly Mae had added a scandal special to the chalkboard:Hot Mess Hash with extra sausage.
Hell, rumor had it there was even a wager going around—ten bucks a head on how long Gray and Ozzie would last. And last night? At Miss Loreen’s bi-weekly bake-off (a.k.a. the Gossip Swap), their affair was all anyone could talk about. Jessamine swore she saw them kiss outside Knot Your Average Wedding a few weeks back, and someone else claimed they’d been caught getting biblical by the lake last week. That tidbit sealed it for everyone.
Opie got thrown into jail again for taking a swing at Preston Callahan outside of Bristlecone’s watered-down version of a Dollar General after Preston made a crack about Ozzie being a gold digger with “loose morals.”
Opie and Ozzie had become as thick as thieves lately, and Opie had taken on the role of a one-man army to confront anyone who badmouthed his friend. Donald, thesheriff and self-appointed mayor, had warned Opie’s husband, Lawson, that one more mishap and Opie would spend the night in jail next time. Without the damned hen, Opie’s little two-legged baby, Ms. Cluck, that followed him everywhere.
In Bristlecone logic, shared manure was more binding than a marriage license.
I should know. Mine wasn’t worth the ink dried on it. I hadn’t even stuck around for the complete signing. Not when I’d felt sick to my stomach that I was ruining my chance at true love with the one man I cared about.
I pressed my heels to the mare’s sides and urged her faster as I neared the lake, needing the wind to whip away the helplessness I felt and the anger still simmering beneath the surface of hearing anyone talk smack about Matty.
A flash of movement drew my gaze to the left.
Junebug.
Her reins dragged loosely, and her coat gleamed like an autumn sunset as she picked her way along the edge of the water, chewing grass.
I followed her path with my eyes until I found him.
Matt.
No, Matty.
Sitting in the grass a few yards away, one knee bent, arms resting on it, head tipped back like he’d been watching the clouds drift across the sky. He didn’t look up, though he must have heard the horse approach. I didn’t move. Just watched him, a lump forming in my throat as the years peeled back like thin bark.
God, he looked the same. Maybe a little leaner in the face. A little more grown. But still so painfully Matty.
And all I saw wasthen.
Matty pushing me down in this same patch of grass,laughing into my mouth, his hair tangled in my fingers, and his hips pressed tight to mine. That summer we thought we were invincible. That we had forever.
“You’re gonna be mine forever, Hud,” he’d whispered, breathless, his smile big and boyish, eyes lit up like the whole sky had taken up residence in them.
By then, I’d started to believe him.
By then, I’d already slept with Heather.
By then, I’d fallen in love for the first time.
But that was before reality came crashing down with a surprise baby and a ring on someone else’s finger.
Now the silence stretched long and thin between us. Junebug gave a soft nicker and wandered toward the lake’s edge, her hooves crunching over stones. Matty turned slightly, finally looking at me.
His gaze met mine across the clearing.
No smile. No frown either.
Just those unreadable eyes that used to look at me like I hung the damn moon.
I wanted to go to him.
Wanted to say “sorry” and “why does this still hurt so bad?”
