Page 6 of Rebel Bride
I would be Dash Carter’s wife.
I shook myself back to my new reality.
“I think I’ll call Lars again,” Adeline said. “See how close he is.”
With a nervous smile, she stepped outside, leaving me with Rosie, who regarded me with a curious expression.
“Sure you’re okay?”
“Just jitters. Normal, right?”
“Definitely. But …”
“But what?”
She shrugged. “You’ve gone awfully quiet. The closer we get to lift-off, the quieter you’ve become.”
I gave up my job.
After today, I would spend two weeks with Dash’s family on an inescapable island, then I would return to a life I wasn’t prepared for. Society princess. Player wife. Stay at home—don’t even think it. Not yet.
“I-I’m fine. Just think I should potty one more time.” I probably should have thought of that before I put the dress on.
“Okay, need help in there? I could probably stand to the side and hold the skirt, as awkward as that sounds.”
“Oh, I’m fine!” I picked up my phone and placed it in the hidden pocket Sadie had sewn into the gown. The heels felt a little wobbly but nothing I couldn’t handle.
Inside the restroom, my fingers went instinctively to the rectangle of plastic wrapped in paper, secreted inside my bustier. My momma’s words came back to me, both counsel and warning.
You ain’t got boobs big enough for a comfy bra, hun. But there’s always room for a GOOD-lite. Make sure you got one, no matter the situation.
Pretty much the only decent advice she ever gave me.
A streak of sunlight from the window above the trash can lit up my GOOD-lite as I took it out. A one-hundred-dollar bill wrapped around my driver’s license and my ATM card. Most people had more practical necessities for the equivalent of a go bag: a first-aid kit, a multi-tool knife, a decent supply of cash, even a passport. From the age of sixteen, I carried my survival kit, minimalist as it was, on me at all times.
Get Out Of Dodge. GOOD-lite.
So much for spine and gumption, earned from my scrappy journey to this point. I gave up my job. I caved to Dash’s demand without much of a fight. I could have managed the rest—Dash’s family, his occasional self-centeredness, even the lies I had to tell to get here, but my job? Anger rose, swift and sharp. That job meant the world to me, maybe more than my fiancé. He hadn’t even questioned when I said my family was dead and I wanted no one from my childhood at the wedding.
He didn’t want to know, and I didn’t want to tell him. Now here we were, setting sail on a new life with nothing but secrets and resentment to steer us.
I can’t do this.
Time to GOOD the hell out of here.
Chapter Two
The Chicago Rebels bosses are keeping the roster plans for the upcoming season on the down low, though sources tell us that the franchise has definitely offered legendary defenseman Theo Kershaw a one-year contract renewal after he indicated he might be willing to forego his planned retirement for another season. Kershaw had hoped to go out on a high but was denied in a Game 7 Finals heartbreaker last month. Does the Rebels lynchpin have the legs and will to stick around for one more year? And will the franchise keep Hatch Kershaw on its books after his, frankly, disappointing maiden season with his father’s team? The novelty and popularity of a father-and-son duo on the Rebels roster might have to give way to reality.
- @RebelsInsider
Hatch
* * *
Groomsman by default wasn’t a very promising start to a marriage.
Not that my “friendship” with the groom said anything substantial about his impending nuptials, but it did say something about him. Dash Carter and I had not become particularly close in the last year. I didn’t even want to be in his wedding party, but he’d pissed off someone and a spot opened.
