Starlee's Hope (The Wayward Sons 4)

“Why would you put it in there?” his twin asks. “You know I needed them.”

George scoots out, backside covered in dirt. He shoots his brother a glare. “I know we shared a womb, but I can’t actually read your mind.”

I’m pulling a wagon filled with flowers across the yard. The wedding is in six hours and it definitely feels like we’re not going to be ready on time. Everything’s here; the tables, chairs, awning, and tent. The big screen that Charlie will play the slide show on and the sound system mounted on the back deck of the office, but it’s not all set up the way we’d planned. Not yet, anyway. We’ve been prepping for five days and it feels like quicksand. Who said weddings were fun?

“I’ll help you find them,” I say to Charlie, abandoning my flowers and walking over to him.

“Thanks,” he replies, clearly agitated. When we reach the path that skirts between the buildings, he confesses, “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. Your grandmother has been so good to us, you know? We owe her this.”

I grab his hand and pull him to a stop. “LeeLee is good to you because she cares for you. Don’t feel pressure because of that.”

He looks down on me, glasses crooked, expression still pained.

“I’m serious. She’s going to love it regardless. It isn’t about the event, it’s about the action. She’s so excited to be marrying Tom.”

Charlie’s the analytical one—each move in an activity toward a specific goal—and this one had been about giving LeeLee the perfect day. I push up on my toes and his hands move to my waist. We kiss and I feel that same rush of excitement that I always do. His tongue teases mine, making my tummy twist in delight. He’s become a very good kisser. Proficient with all his touches and movements. I have a feeling that once this wedding is over and we have time to relax and enjoy our summer, the final walls between the two of us will fall and this boy is going to show me the rewards of waiting.

Two hours later, Charlie has his light and sound systems set up. Jake and George have all the tables and chairs arranged, while Dexter is tucked away in the kitchen. The burlap is artfully arranged, and tiny jars of wildflowers are scattered everywhere. The boys all head home to shower and change and I duck in the Wayward Sun to make sure Dexter’s ready.

“Holy crap,” I say, walking in the kitchen. “It looks like a bomb dropped.”

The room is a total disaster. Pots, pans, bowls, spoons, trays, plates…every item is pulled from the shelves and piled in the industrial sink. On the table is a beautiful cake—not too big, but perfect. Not too overwhelmingly feminine but also sweet, with yellow accents that match our bridesmaid dresses exactly. Boxes of mini pies are stacked on the counter, waiting to be displayed on the tables outside. Dexter leans against the counter, worn-out but clearly proud.

“Dex, it’s gorgeous,” I say, about the cake. “LeeLee will love it.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Is everything ready out front?”

“As good as it’s going to get.”

“Is it wrong for me to say I’m ready to get this over with?”

I laugh and cross the kitchen. “Nope. Not at all. I think we’re all ready for summer vacation to start.”

His hand cinches around my waist and his mouth drops to mine, giving me a lazy kiss. When we part I lick my lips, tasting the flour and sugar left behind and he grins, pulling me close.

He’s so good. So handsome. So everything to me. I hate to break the spell of happiness between us, but I do feel like I need to tell him something. “Just so you know, I don’t think LeeLee ever heard from Sierra about coming today.”

Sadness flickers in his eyes. “I thought maybe after showing up for graduation, she’d break her silence for your grandmother.”

“Me too.” But we both knew it was a long shot.

His jaw sets like he’s mulling over some information and he finally says, “I did get a letter from her.”

I frown. “You did?”

“We all did—the guys.” He looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry we didn’t tell you, or I didn’t. I think they were following my lead.”

“Don’t apologize.” I wrap my hand in his apron, holding on to him. “I’m just glad you heard from her.”

He nods, not looking completely convinced. “She says she’s okay and just wanted to congratulate us on making it through—surviving, I guess.”

“Anything else?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

I wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. I know this whole thing hurts more than he’s letting on.

“I guess I should go clean up,” he says after a minute.