Southern Seducer (North Carolina Highlands 1)

I finish my beer and set the glass on the wooden counter. The barman, Rawlins, takes the glass and raises his eyebrows. Another?

I wave him off. I’m good.

I’ll wait until I’m in the safety of my home later before I black out drinking my best whiskey, thanks.

“Annabel doesn’t understand this disease the way I do. The way we do. If she did, I wouldn’t have had to let her go. She would’ve run out of here like her hair was on fire.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. She’s incredibly smart, just like you said. She knows what kind of life she wants and deserves. It isn’t a life spent taking care of someone with a degenerative brain disease.”

“She does know what she wants. She wants to spend her life with the man she loves. And if that life includes some bumps along the way—which it inevitably will, whether you have an injury or not—then so be it. She’s walking in with eyes wide open, Beau.”

Jesus, I want to believe Milly.

I wanna believe so bad.

Which is why I gotta get out of here. Temptation’s hitting me from all sides, and I’m feeling my control start to slip. I need to get home and turn off my phone, turn up some old-school Tupac, and be alone.

Letting Annabel leave was ripping off the Band-Aid.

Now I gotta learn to live with the wound.

“I checked in with catering and the police department. We’re a go on both fronts.” I push back from the bar. “You need anything else from me?”

Milly looks up at me, eyes earnest.

“I need you to do some soul searching,” she says. “If you ever do go back to Annabel—”

“I won’t.”

“Never say never. Take it from a wedding planner. If I had a nickel for every time I heard, ‘Oh, so and so is my soul mate, my first, my last, my only,’ just to find out that soul mate is definitely not that person’s last or only, I’d be a rich woman.”

“You are a rich woman.”

The side of Milly’s mouth curls upward. “I am. So, if you ever do go back to Annabel, you’re gonna need to pull out all the stops. I’m talking full-on grovel. On your knees with diamonds in your hands and a ten-piece band playing Etta James in the background.”

I decide not to acknowledge that with a response and climb off my chair instead. Tucking it underneath the bar, I turn and am immediately confronted by Mama.

“John Riley.”

She’s staring me down with disapproval written all over her face. With her brow furrowed and arms crossed, she projects a presence much larger than her petite frame would suggest.

My stomach dips.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I see Milly’s already given you a talking-to about how you treated our Annabel. So I’ll spare you the lecture. I’m here to let you know how disappointed I am in you, son. She’s a good girl, and you broke her heart. Now I’m sure you have your reasons, but none of ’em are good enough to justify what you’re doing. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. I—”

“Your daddy wasn’t all bad at the end, you know.”

I startle. Out of all the things Mama could’ve said, I wasn’t expecting that.

“What does that mean?”

“I know you’re scared of what happened to him happening to you,” she replies. “But I’m not sure you’re seeing the whole picture. You were away for so much of his illness. You only came back when things took a turn for the worse, and we got scared. You didn’t get to see him on his good days.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I curl my palm around the nape of my neck. I can’t do this right now. Revisiting Daddy. The memory of him, and how one day that will be Mama and Milly’s memory of me.

“That’s just it,” I say. “We were scared. I’m not gonna risk scaring Annabel. Even if I still have good days.”

Mama sighs. “You’re a stubborn one. Always have been. I’m not gonna try to convince you to do one thing when you’re set on doing another. But I do agree with Milly. Think on this, son. Think real hard.”

I nod.

I’m desperate to get the hell out of here. I’m well aware getting drunk is no solution to my problems, but I feel like I’m about to burst. I need to let out some steam somehow, and I already tried the gym, and I already tried beating up my brother, so…

Yeah. That leaves booze.

I’m a piece of shit. I get it.

Only makes me want to drink more.

My house isn’t the comfort I thought it’d be when I get there. I miss my best friend.

Storm clouds gather outside the windows. The light would’ve been moody and sexy when Annabel was here. But now it’s just dark and depressing.

The house is empty, and so am I.