Page 28 of Rebel Bride
“Not to me.” But then we weren’t as close as I wanted to believe. I kept a certain distance from the girls, worried they might want to know more about me. About my past. Trying to fit in required the walls stay at a certain height. “Excuse me for not having it all figured out. Must be nice to be so sure of yourself. Your life mapped out, your path so clear.”
“That’s what you think? I have it all figured out?”
“Don’t you? Son of a legend, destined to follow in his skate glide, part of the great Kershaw legacy. I was there when the front office brought you on—you’d swear royalty had descended.”
“Doesn’t mean my life is mapped out. We just lost the Cup. And I played like a donkey.”
So he hadn’t played his best. But this was a team sport. Victory didn’t rest on the shoulders of one man.
“You’re what? Twenty-five years old? You have another ten, fifteen, maybe twenty years with those Kershaw genes. You have everything in front of you, this amazing family who adores you, the world of hockey at your skates. You’ve never screwed up and if you did, you’d have your family and friends ready to catch you.”
I was twenty six and had nothing. I came from dirt, and I was back in the mud yet again.
He didn’t apologize, which was fine. He felt the way he did, and I was the bitch who bailed on his teammate.
“I’m going to go eat some cheese now.”
Defiantly, I returned to the kitchen to make myself another sandwich. When I looked out to the patio again, Hatch was gone.
Just before 6 a.m., the next morning, I snuck out of the house like a thief.
I was getting used to this. Not that I had to climb through a window this time, but my cat burglar reflexes were on point.
I couldn’t impose any longer. I had raided Aurora’s closet and found a pair of coral capris that fit me with the addition of a leopard-skin belt to hold them up. I also “borrowed” a pair of Gola pink tennis shoes—very Aurora—and a cardigan to cover up the Michigan tee. I couldn’t leave the wedding dress or underwear behind, so I stuffed it all into a Jansport backpack I found in the closet. After washing the borrowed clothes, I would return them to Aurora once I was back in Chicago, or to Hatch if he wanted to keep my visit a secret.
The pool house, where my ogre rescuer slept, was quiet. I slipped out the front door to a waiting Uber and was at the Amtrak station in Holland, Michigan, seventeen minutes later in time for the 6:49 train.
A sign at the station read: Train delayed. The 6:49 train to Chicago will now depart at 7:10. Okay. I could do that. I tried to buy a ticket with my Wallet app on my phone, but it wouldn’t work, so I had to dip into my cash reserves. Thirty-seven dollars gone, sixty-three left.
I went through all my texts and listened to the messages. Dash had left voice mails after the texts, each more irate than the other.
“Summer, let’s talk” became “Summer, you can’t do this to me!” in seven tries.
I called him back. He didn’t answer, but as I was leaving a voice mail, his return call came through. I inhaled and answered.
“Hi.”
He didn’t say anything, just let the silence hang.
Finally, he spoke. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
I laughed nervously. “Probably.”
“Probably? That has to be one of the more stupid moves you’ve ever made, Summer.”
I could feel my body flushing with embarrassment. He was right, but did he have to make me feel so small?
“Maybe. But I can’t say I regret it. And I think you’re going to realize soon it was for the best. I wouldn’t have made you a good wife.”
“Not really for you to decide, though, is it? I think I’d know what a good wife looks like.”
The logic of that escaped me, but I let it slide. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you face to face.”
“Worried I’d change your mind for you?”
“Yes, actually. You’re very persuasive.” He had spent the last year convincing me that we were good together.
He snorted. “And you don’t know what you want, Summer. You never have. I had to tell you what to eat, what to wear, how to behave. My mom said you must have only ever eaten at fucking Olive Garden or shopped at The Gap. We could have taught you so much, how to be someone important. I can’t believe I wasted so much of my time on you.”
