Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
And they believed each other.
Griffin moved past Moretti and I stepped back so he could take his place between us. He looked stoic, but I didn’t miss the wipe of his eyes with thumb and forefinger. I gave him a nod and pat on the arm. He laughed and shook his head, as if he felt foolish, but I didn’t blame him for being emotional. I was too, and Cheyenne wasn’t even my sister by blood.
But how much did blood really matter in the end?
Wasn’t it more important, and more meaningful, when what bound you to someone wasn’t necessarily DNA but a history of choosing to be in someone’s corner? Always having their back? Never letting them feel alone?
The times that Moretti, Griffin, and Cole had been there for me in ways big and small were too numerous to count. The times that their parents had been there for me were too numerous to count. Their entire families had always treated me like their own.
When I was eight, Cole’s mom had seen how short my dress pants had gotten one Sunday at church, and she showed up at my house later to collect them. She let the hem down and got them back to me the very next day.
When I was twelve, Moretti’s mom sent an extra sandwich and cookie in his lunch bag every single day after he mentioned I sometimes forgot to pack a decent lunch for myself.
When I was sixteen, Mr. Dempsey had sold me a beat-up truck for dirt cheap and let me work off what I couldn’t pay with weekend hours at the garage.
And my father had repaid them all in kind—he was always sending eggs or fresh vegetables or steaks to them to say thank you. It was a tradition I’d continued. Food always made people happy. It was a way to show you cared. To show you were grateful for them.
To show up for them.
That’s what mattered. More than blood. More than just loving someone. My mother had probably loved us, but she’d still made the choice to leave.
Love mattered, but loyalty was just as important.
The choice you made to show up for people, time after time. The promises you kept. The bonds you’d never break. The trust you put in them to be there for you, and the assurance you offered that you’d always be there for them.
And it hit me—what I’d asked Bianca on the stairs.
Love isn’t always enough to make someone stay. Where’s the proof that people stick around?
In my mind I saw her soft, knowing smile as she nodded at my friends, as if she saw the truth so much more clearly than I did.
Right there. That’s your proof.
Despite the heat, I felt gooseflesh blanket my back beneath my suit as more than twenty years of friendship—of brotherhood—flashed through my head. They’d been in my corner more than half my life, and I knew without a doubt they’d be there forever.
I looked into the sea of faces watching the ceremony and saw only one person looking at me, her green eyes shining like sea glass in shallow water.
My mouth opened, as if I were about to say something. I couldn’t say anything, of course—it was the middle of Cole and Cheyenne’s wedding. And frankly, even if we’d been alone, I wasn’t sure how I’d explain what was in my head or my heart.
Love still scared me.
But Bianca was right—some people did stay in your life forever.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Cole Mitchell.”
The guests rose to their feet, cheering and applauding as Cole and Cheyenne shared their first kiss as husband and wife. In front of me, Moretti stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. I clapped along with everyone, my eyes on the newlyweds, but my heart was racing with anticipation. I needed to talk to Maddie.
As the harpist began to play an upbeat song, Cole and Cheyenne started back down the aisle hand in hand, offering the guests high-fives, huge smiles, and the occasional hug.
They were followed by Moretti and Bianca, then Griffin and Blair, and finally Mariah and me. I offered my arm, and she tucked her small arm inside my elbow. Her eyes were tearful, but her smile was ecstatic.
We made our way down the aisle, and I attempted to catch Maddie’s eye when we passed her row, but she was looking down at her phone. Trying not to frown, I escorted Mariah toward the house, where the wedding party was convening in the living room.
“You’re going so fast.” Mariah giggled. “I can’t walk that fast in these shoes with heels. They actually kind of hurt.”
“Sorry.” I slowed down, glancing over my shoulder. “Want a piggyback ride?”
“Yes!” she cried.
I turned around and she jumped on my back, and we headed into the house, where we were supposed to meet up with the rest of the wedding party while the guests had drinks on the patio or beneath the tent.