Page 78 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

He hums, rubbing the scruff on his jaw. “And some things never do.”

Pulling into the church parking lot, I take a deep breath. It’s time to face what I’ve been dreading all weekend.

My meeting with Eli and his fiancée.

I have no idea what to expect. I know next to nothing about weddings, and even less about helping to plan one in our church. I’m not sure why Papa decided I’d be the best choice for this, but regardless, I’m going to put my personal feelings aside and try to give Eli the best damn wedding he can dream of.

Even if it is to the girl I’ve always known would come between us.

The moment I saw them on Sunday, embracing outside of the church, it clicked. I’ve seen the back of that head before—on national television while she hugged on my man.

Just friends, my ass.

A lick of anger flickers, but I tamp it down, knowing it has no right.

Walking into my old man’s office, I’m surprised to see Papa sitting behind his desk, Eli and Sarah on the other side.

“Rebecca, you’re late,” Papa says.

Irritation grips my insides, making my jaw tense.

“Actually, Papa, I’m five minutes early.” I smile wide.

Eli scoffs.

I spin toward him, my annoyance lasering in on a target. “Somethin’ funny, big head?”

The nickname hurls out of me before I can catch it, my stomach jumping to my throat.

Eli stiffens, his eyes narrowing as they burn a hole through me. “You’ve never understood the importance of being punctual.”

That tamped down anger flares, sizzling off my skin. “And you never understood the importance of not bein’ a dick.”

His eyes flash, sparking a fire in my stomach as I hold his gaze.

“Rebecca. That’s enough,” Papa chastises.

My cheeks heat as I snap back to myself. I had forgotten where we were. Who we were with. Why we’re here.

Papa smiles. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. Seems her momma didn’t make those manners stick.”

Sarah giggles, and my head snaps to her at the same time as Eli’s. I’m sure I imagine the way his eyes narrow. Papa preens at her attention, his grin growing, and I brace myself for the hits I know he’s about to rain down.

He holds eye contact with Sarah, but throws his jabs my way. “Must be all those high schoolers she’s around all day long.”

I roll my eyes. “Papa, you make it sound like I’m still a student and not the faculty.”

“Oh, believe me, Rebecca Jean. I’m all too aware of your standin’ in this town.”

His words drill into the pit of my stomach, the shame of how this town sees me—how my family sees me—careening off my insides and blossoming on my cheeks.

My gaze drops, curls shadowing my face.

“Preacher Sanger.” Eli’s gripping his chair so tight his knuckles are white. My spirit soars, thinking he’s about to put Papa in his place—that someone’s going to defend me for once.

“I don’t think this is a conversation to have in polite company. Do you need us to give you a few minutes?”

And just like that, my heart crashes, landing on its other broken pieces.

---