Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Connor

" D ude, what's going on with you?"

I blinked back into the present to find Zach staring at me with a curious look on his face. I'd been so focused on staring at Ivy across the front of the small chapel where my friend and Rae would be exchanging vows tomorrow that I'd completely zoned out mid-sentence of whatever he'd been saying. I couldn't help myself. Any time she was in the room, I couldn't keep from tracking her every move like a heat-seeking missile. When she was close, she was the only thing I was aware of.

As hard as it was, I pulled my attention from the woman I'd been trying to talk to all damn week and looked over to Zach. "What?"

Zach's eye narrowed as he watched me closely. "You didn't hear a damn thing I said, did you?"

I let out a huff of frustration and reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Clearly I didn't, so instead of giving me shit about it, why don't you say it again."

"I asked what's going on with you. You've been acting weird all week."

I cleared my throat, tugging at the collar of my button-down. Rae understood she was dealing with a bunch of cowboys, so she didn't require us to wear suits today since we'd all be stuck in tuxes for the wedding, but she did ask that we at least wear a decent pair of jeans and a nice shirt. Now my throat was starting to feel dry and I felt like the damn thing was choking me. And not the fun, sexy kind of choking either.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." I didn't know why the hell I decided to lie. It was clear by the look on his face he knew I was full of shit.

"You haven't been yourself, man. You haven't gone out with me and Raylan once since you got here. You've just been hoverin' around the lodge like a lost puppy or something. Hal said he spotted one of the younger female guests hittin' on you, and instead of actin' on it, you just smiled and walked away." He arched a brow, almost in a challenge. "That's definitely not the Connor I know." He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide. "Christ, are you dying or somethin'?"

"For fuck's sake," I grumbled before remembering that we were standing in a church and I should probably watch my language. There were already a million reasons why the big guy might strike me down with a lightning bolt or something. I didn't need to give him any more. "No, I'm not dyin', you jackass." Okay, so maybe cleaning up my language was easier said than done. "I just wasn't in the mood." And that was the truth. In fact, I wouldn't have touched that woman with a ten-foot pole if you paid me to. I remembered the chick he was talking about, and I also remembered the ring she'd been sporting on her left hand. When I pointed it out to her after she propositioned me, she'd laughed and made a comment about how she didn't think a guy with my reputation would care about something like that.

She'd been wrong. I had been in the shoes of the guy who was unfortunate enough to put a ring on that woman's finger, and that was a road I would never go down.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Pretty sure in the mood is a perpetual state of being for you, brother. You once told me that unless your dick has fallen off, you're good to go."

Fucking hell. In times like this I wished I hadn't leaned so damn hard into the reputation I'd developed over the years. But after all that shit went down with Amber, being the playboy had been the easier choice. I'd tried love. I'd shot for the whole white-picket-fence dream, and I'd been crushed under the weight of it when it all came crashing down.

I figured I was a single man, so why the hell not fuck who I wanted to fuck, consequences be damned. But as I looked across the narthex at the woman I couldn't get out of my head, the regrets started to pile up.

"She was engaged," I told him, my voice low and hard.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, reaching up to clap me on my shoulder. "Man, I'm sorry." He knew all about my history with Amber. He'd been there when she and I met, and I'd shared openly with him how I thought she was my endgame. He'd been there when that all imploded and I drowned my sorrows in my buddy Jim Beam for far too long.

"I might be a piece of shit, but there are some lines even I won't cross."

"Hey, knock that shit off," he clipped out, his tone sounding almost angry. "You aren't a piece of shit. Couldn't be, even if you tried. You got your heart stomped on and you decided not to let it happen again. I get why you made that decision. But it doesn't make you a piece of shit."

He might be singing a different tune if he knew what I'd done to Ivy.

And speaking of... the main reason I'd been "off" all week, as he put it, was because of her. That persistent itch beneath my skin that had formed the moment I saw her coming down that staircase hadn't gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse as the days progressed. The need to see her, talk to her, be in her orbit, was damn near overwhelming. All of the memories of our time together the last time I'd been here came flooding back like a dam bursting. All those lunches we shared out in the meadow covered in wildflowers. All the laughs and fun times. I'd shared things with her I hadn't shared with anyone. She could be stubborn and willful, but she also had the biggest heart of anyone I'd ever known.

I missed her.

I hung around the lodge, hoping for a chance to talk to her, but she seemed to be going out of her way to avoid me at every turn. Just like now. We'd been standing, waiting for the wedding planner to get this rehearsal rolling for a good fifteen minutes now, and she hadn't looked in my direction once. It was like I didn't exist.

I knew she knew I was there because I caught the subtle tensing of her body whenever I got closer and the clenching of her jaw when I first walked in. She might have been doing everything in her power to pretend I wasn't there, but she was just as aware of me as I was of her.

The problem was, she wouldn't give me the goddamn opening I needed in order to talk to her. I couldn't apologize if she turned and bolted in the other direction every time I got close.

A sharp clap bounced off the tile floors and pulled me from my misery as the wedding planner's cheery voice filled the narthex. "Okay, everyone, we're ready to get started."

I tuned the overly-bright woman out as she rattled on about what we'd be doing this evening. I went through the motions on autopilot, standing up at the altar with Zach's other groomsman, Raylan.

The woman's chirpy voice sounded like it was coming from the opposite end of a long tunnel as I stared across the altar at Ivy, watching her as she focused on the coordinator like she was going to be quizzed on every word the woman said. Her back was arrow straight, her shoulders square and jaw slightly lifted. The only thing giving her away was how tightly she was clasping her hands together in front of her.

We went through the motions of having the girls come up and down the aisle a couple times until everyone felt comfortable. It wasn't until an hour later that I zoned back in when the coordinator instructed us back up the aisle like the ceremony was finally over.

It was obvious from how we were standing that Lennix would be moving up the aisle with Raylan, while I would be walking with Ivy. I knew there wasn't going to be a more perfect opportunity to talk to her if I conjured it up myself.

My lungs burned as the two of us met at the center of the altar, alerting me to the fact that I had been holding my breath and was in desperate need of fresh oxygen.

"H—" I opened my mouth to speak but managed to choke on the very first letter when my mouth went dry.

At my sputtered cough, Ivy finally looked in my direction for the very first time in days. Her brow was furrowed with concern as she tentatively looped her arm through the crooked elbow I offered her.

"You all right?"

I cleared my throat and spoke, my voice coming out hoarse. "Yeah. I'm good. Sorry about that." I tugged at my collar uncomfortably and tried again as we waited at the top step of the altar for Lennix and Raylan to get a little farther down before we could start across the aisle. "Hi."

She gave me a quick look like I'd grown a horn out of the center of my forehead or something before facing forward as the coordinator waved us on. "Hi," she offered blandly.

I could tell she wanted that to be the end of it, but I couldn't stop myself from saying more. "You look really pretty tonight."

Her head shot back around in my direction so fast it was a wonder she didn't give herself whiplash. "Excuse me?" she asked in a whispered hiss, but there was no missing the displeasure in those two words. It was obvious from her reaction I'd said the wrong thing.

"I said?—"

"I heard what you said," she continued with her quiet words, but the anger radiating behind them slammed into me like a rogue wave. "Spare me your empty compliments."

"It wasn't an empty compliment," I insisted, my brows dipping into a frown. I was speaking the God's honest truth. She looked gorgeous tonight. She always looked gorgeous.

"I don't want to hear it, Connor." Christ, the sound of my name on her rosy bee-stung lips, even said in that pissed off tone she was using, was enough to rev my engine. What the hell was wrong with me? "Let's just get through this weekend, then we can go back to acting like the other person doesn't exist."

I moved fast when I felt the fingers that had been hugging the bend of my elbow begin to loosen as she attempted to pull away, grabbing hold of her hand with my free one and keeping it firmly in place. I couldn't let her break our connection yet. I knew I had no right to force contact on her like that, but I hadn't realized until she touched me that every breath I'd been taking since those early morning hours when I'd walked out on her had been cut in half. The instant her fingers pressed into the cuffed sleeve of my shirt, my lungs expanded fully for the first time in months. I'd felt like something was missing for so long now, and I'd struggled to put my finger on what it was.

Now I knew.

It was her.

Christ. I'd really fucked up.

"I don't want to pretend like you don't exist," I said quietly as the end of the aisle grew closer. "I can't pretend that."

She let out a short, sardonic laugh that felt like a knife to my gut. "I find that hard to believe, considering you've been doing that very thing for months now."

"Butterfly—"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. Her delicate features went hard. Those plump pink lips pulled into a flat line and her cheeks flushed angrily while her slim nose wrinkled at the bridge in disgust. But it was what I saw shimmering in her eyes that stole the air right from my lungs. Pain reflected back at me, radiating so strongly I felt every muscle in my body tense. "You don't get to call me that. Not anymore."

Our friends were only feet away now. "I'm sorry," I said, those words barely a breath but dripping with dejection as we reached the end of our short journey together. "I'm so fucking sorry, Ivy."

She cast a bewildered look in my direction as I finally released her hand and let it drop from my arm before turning around and walking away.