Southern Bride Page 2

  Zoey scooted closer and took my hand in hers. “Sadie’s right. You are perfect, Avery. I want to be strong like you. In the last couple of years, you have become wiser, stronger, but…”

  “But still a mess.” I didn’t cry. There were no tears left. I’d cried for hours, days, years. I would never cry for Dylan or any other family member who took the express bus out of my life again.

  Sadie patted my leg. “I know you’re in pain, and I can’t watch you suffer anymore.”

  Zoey released my hand and wrapped her arm around me. “We love you.” She kept me squeezed to her side and nudged me to stand. “Come on. We have something that we hope will help you.” The way her voice cracked made me nervous.

  I followed her like a zombie. “A pint of Chunk Chocolate Extreme, I hope.”

  Sadie took a deep breath, and I paused, trying to decipher what her sad eyes and lowered shoulders meant. She really was worried about me.

  “Listen. I’m fine, you two. Stop sister obsessing. If I want to go talk to Dylan while he’s in town, I will. If not, then I’ll be fine. Let it go.”

  I pushed from Zoey’s arms and headed to the living room.

  “You’ll never be okay until you face this. I hope you forgive us someday,” Sadie said, racing by me with Zoey on her heels.

  A heated warning flooded my skin. “What did you two do?” I shuffled into the living room, and by the door stood a man in uniform. I blinked and shook my head, waiting for someone to explain.

  Then the man smiled, and I saw that long-haired boy with a lopsided grin flash before my eyes.

  “Dylan?”

  Chapter Three

  “Hi, Aves.” Dylan held a military hat in his hands at the doorway.

  He didn’t have the right to greet me in the name he’d coined for me in high school. He didn’t have the right to still have that deep voice that made me want to listen to his every word. He didn’t have the right to be standing in my living room, in my life.

  Sadie and Zoey fled faster than I’d ever seen them move. Before I could protest, the front door, my main escape route, shut behind them.

  I shuffled back, but Dylan didn’t advance. Part of me wanted to know what had happened to him. Why was his hair scalp short, and why was he dressed up like a soldier when he was more a skater boy?

  “I know you must have a lot of questions.” He swallowed. I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. The uniform made his shoulders look big and his waist small. The haircut made him look tough, but his eyes—those deep blue eyes that looked at me with such sorrow—betrayed his appearance.

  “No.” How could I admit that I was pathetic enough to think about him every day since he’d left? Or that I wanted to know why he’d disappeared in the night without me. “I don’t, so you can leave.”

  I turned to retreat to my room, but he stopped me with one sentence. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  Those words ignited a pilot light of wondering into an explosion of anger. I turned on my heels and marched toward him. “You didn’t want to leave me? Seriously? Is that the words that every man uses when they abandon someone?”

  “I didn’t abandon you. I left so that I could have you.”

  My stomach rolled and tumbled into some dark, queasy, gargling, swampy pit. “Oh, is this the it’s-not-you-I’m-a-jerk talk? Save it. I’ve heard all the excuses from my mother and father before. That night you told me you’d give me time to decide. You told me you’d wait for me. That you wouldn’t leave without me.”

  “Yes.” Dylan took a half step closer and set his hat down on the side table. “But unlike your parents, every word is true.”

  “You think you’re better than my parents? At least they told me they were leaving. Okay, my father didn’t, but he left a note to explain.”

  “I wrote to you.”

  “I heard. In the last six months. A year and a half after you fled the scene of my life.” I choked down the unwanted emotion. He didn’t get to see me cry. I wouldn’t cry. Never again. Not for him.

  He tilted his head down as if to analyze his shoes but then popped up to soldier-perfect posture. “It took me that long to be the person you deserve.”

  “I deserve better.”

  The way he placed a hand over his broad chest made me think that I’d just shot him straight through the heart.

  “You’re right, but I need to explain before you write me out of your life permanently.”

  “Before? Oh hon, that epic novel had the end written the minute you left.”

  If my words affected him, he didn’t show it this time. “I don’t want to upset you, but if you won’t listen to my words, maybe you’ll read my letters.” He reached into his breast pocket and held out a stack of unopened envelopes. The top one was stamped with Return to Sender. For several moments he held them out to me, but I wouldn’t take them. It was a standoff. Five-foot-four Dixon girl against six-foot-two military officer. I knew so little about the military, I didn’t even know what branch uniform he was wearing or if it was even real. No matter what my eyes saw, my mind still couldn’t reconcile the image in front of me to the boy I once knew so well.

  He tossed the letters onto the sofa and closed another step between us. The aroma of fresh-clean uniform drifted my way. “Promise me that you’ll read them, and I’ll leave.”

  “No. I won’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Maybe I was being a brat, but it wasn’t about not wanting to listen to him. It was about what I might do if I read his words. Would I run away with him, only to have him disappear on me again?

  “I’ll wait in town until you do. Even if it means I go AWOL.”

  “Again?” Ugh. It was a reactive question, like blocking a punch.

  “You’ll understand if you read the letters.” Dylan opened the front door, stepped outside, and put his hat on his head. He turned and scanned me from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. “You are as beautiful as I remembered,” he said, his voice casting across the room and snagging my heart.

  When the door shut, my knees hit the floor and I gasped for air. How could I know exactly what I wanted a few days ago, only to have everything turned upside down today?

  I eyed the letters on the sofa, but I didn’t open them. He knew I was worse than a cat when it came to information. He’d baited me, and I wasn’t falling for it. All this did was show me that he still had power over me. Power I never wanted to give to anyone ever again.

  Chapter Four

  Sadie placed more chocolate-covered donuts in the case and leaned into my side. “Dylan’s still standing at attention outside my bakery. Are you ever going to invite him in?” Sadie’s whispers in a clipped pattern indicated her patience was wearing pastry-sheet thin.

  I could only imagine the gossip line in town abuzz with the news of former bad boy turned soldier, but that wasn’t my problem. “Is it affecting business?”

  The answer was obvious since there was standing room only and people in line out the door. Even Carol the knitting store owner had turned out to see the novelty at the bakery shop. Of course, they all wanted some delicious sweets from the French-trained pastry chef, but they could get that most days of the week.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Sadie placed the last donut in the case with an elbow to my ribs.

  “Nothing. He’ll go away eventually,” I hissed.

  Sadie disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to deal with the overexuberant and inquisitive breakfast crowd. I handed Carol her blackberry scone, but instead of taking it, she patted me on the hand.

  “I think you should give the poor boy a chance to explain. From what I heard, he didn’t have no choice but to leave Magnolia Corners. According to Melanie from the coffee shop, who said that Paul from the pharmacy saw Sheriff Milton pull Dylan over that night and handcuff him. Kristi from the dollar store happened to hear from Blake from the florist shop that that same night, he saw Sheriff Milton escort Dylan onto a bus.” Carol managed to take a quick breath a
nd dive right back into her gossip. “You see, he didn’t have no choice but to leave. Paul says his uncle told Melanie that he needed to—”

  “Carol.” I clutched her hand in hopes of distracting her long enough to stop her diatribe. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m afraid the line is backing up and people are getting more sassy than sweet at this point.” I winked and tried to brush her off without embarrassing her too much.

  “Oh, right. Well, I hope you give that boy a chance. He’s hot.” She giggled, her cloudy eyes shining. “I mean, he’s overheating in that uniform standing outside with the sun rising and all.”

  To my relief, the woman behind her nudged Carol from the counter and huffed at me with an eye roll for extra emphasis. By the time the breakfast crowd cleared out, I was done hearing about Dylan standing outside and both sides of the town’s perspective of how I should or shouldn’t speak to him.

  It wasn’t my fault he was standing out there. He should leave if it was too hot.

  Before Sadie had a chance to come out and see the crumbs on the counter, a situation that would turn her crazy, I wiped it down and then the tables. Anything to avoid another conversation about Dylan.

  I peered through the glass door and found him still standing like one of the queen’s guards. That was it. Enough was enough. I tossed down the rag and marched outside. “Go away. I don’t want you here.”

  No response, only a blank stare ahead as if Blake’s florist was too fascinating to turn away from.

  I stomped my foot. “Do you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  “Fine. Stand out here and sweat. I don’t care.” I bolted back inside, only to be stopped by Zoey at the door.

  “It’s time you read these.” Zoey dropped the letters Dylan had written on the table near me. “You left them at the house, so I thought I’d bring them here for you. He’s saved them all for you.”

  I moved to another table to clean it. “Leave me be.”

  “I would, but it isn’t good for you, being like this.” Zoey removed her apron and set it on the counter. “Listen. I know you’re scared, but—”

  “Not scared,” I clipped. “Sorry, it’s just everyone is up in my business without an invite. I haven’t had time to even think about what I want. My head is spinning, and I just need some time to process all of this.”

  Zoey pointed out the door. I followed the direction to find Dylan still standing there at attention. How did he do that for so long? “He’s not leaving until you give him a chance to explain.”

  “I’m surprised you’re encouraging me to talk to him. You hated him when we were together.”

  “I didn’t say my attitude has improved toward him at all. I’m just saying that I want you to talk to him sooner rather than later. You deserve to have a life full of happiness, and I fear you’ll never move on until you hear him out.” Zoey stood and held out the letters to me. “You’re a smart girl. If these are full of lies and misguided attempts at winning you back, you’ll know.”

  Those words didn’t scare me; they petrified me. “What if I’m not strong enough? What if he manipulates me into believing in him and then he leaves without a word again? I mean, what if I—”

  “Still love him?” Zoey asked before she threw her arms around me. “Oh dear sister, that’s the problem. You still do. And you’ll never be able to let him go until you work through those feelings you’ve bottled up for so long.”

  She shoved the letters into my chest until I was forced to take them before she snagged the empty trays from the case and raced into the kitchen. Undoubtedly, she went to fill in Sadie, who Zoey had forced to remain on the sidelines of the Dylan versus Avery game.

  With no energy left to resist, I collapsed into a chair and placed the envelopes in front of me, toying with the rubber band holding them together. That’s how I felt, attached to Dylan with a rubber band all this time. He’d gone away, stretching the distance between us but never really releasing me of his hold.

  Chapter Five

  With the morning crowd gone and the lunch crowd not arriving for another hour, I was left alone. Alone wasn’t good. It left time to think too much. I could run home and take a break until the lunch rush, or I could stay.

  I went to the kitchen. “I can help—”

  “Not until you read those letters,” Zoey said with no room for argument.

  I sighed and returned to the table with Dylan’s letters waiting for me. Fine, I’d get this over with so everyone would leave me alone.

  The rubber band snapped apart before I could get it off the letters. I studied the front of the envelope on top that was dated six months ago. It had taken him over eighteen months before he’d sent word to me.

  Smears of ink blurred the upper left corner into only a few legible words: Specialist, Fort, and Dylan. I thumbed through to the last envelope dated only a few weeks ago. This one I could read: Sergeant Dylan Markham.

  Strange how I didn’t know if Specialist or Sergeant was good or bad. I knew nothing about the military, and I obviously knew even less about Dylan. A boyfriend who I once shared everything with, including my fears, my hopes, and my dreams. We’d promised to spend the rest of our lives together, and then he was gone.

  I dropped the envelopes onto the table once more and rubbed my temple, trying to free it of the throbbing pain. Zoey was right. If I ever wanted to move on, I had to face the past.

  After several deep breaths, I opened the oldest envelope, unfolded the crinkled paper, and began to read.

  Aves,

  I know this letter must come as a surprise to you after over a year and a half since I left. Often, I dream about you, envisioning what your life is like now that I am gone, wondering if everyone had been right that you were better off without me.

  You’re probably backpacking through Europe or on some amazing adventure or in college. I don’t know. All I know is that you’ve never left my heart.

  I’m doubtful that this letter made it through the sisterly checkpoint, but I had to try to explain why I left, if for no other reason than you deserve to know.

  On the night I left your house after we argued, and I told you I’d leave town with or without you, I changed my mind. I couldn’t leave you behind, so I barreled through town on my way back to explain when I ran into Sheriff Milton. I won’t bore you with all the details, but after a long night of questioning and him finding marijuana in the trunk of my father’s car, he made a deal with me. If I left immediately and joined the military, he wouldn’t put me in jail. If I stayed, he’d keep me as far from you as he could before I ruined your life.

  For months I was angry, but a part of me knew you deserved better than I could give, so I joined the Army. Basic was tough. Tougher than anything I had ever done. My first week, I suffered from hand tremors and depression and missing you. After week two, I managed to assimilate to the culture but not to missing you.

  I thought if I could just make it through training then I would be a better man and more deserving of your love. When it ended, I was ready to go explain what happened and promise you a better life, but I couldn’t.

  After I completed my training, I was informed that I’d be shipped overseas. I was going to war, and I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t return. For the first couple of months, I survived by looking at the picture of you I carried everywhere I went. I dreamed about someday holding you in my arms and…

  My throat closed, and my chest tightened. Too much. All of it was too much. I rested my head on the table in front of me and heaved through the emotions, but I didn’t cry.

  The thought of Dylan in danger crippled me from rational thought. I wanted to run, pull him into my arms, and beg his forgiveness for all the bad things I’d said about him. He wasn’t a loser or a deadbeat like his father or mine. Yet, I still hated him for leaving. One letter… That was all it took for me to question my feelings. This was what scared me. The ability to forgive and move on, only to be hurt again.

  No, I wouldn’t let tha
t happen. I’d read his letter and prove to myself that I was strong enough to move on with my life. Zoey and Sadie were right. I needed closure, so I lifted the paper and read more.

  …promising you a better future. I’ve been here for over a year now, and I have more to go. I’m working hard to make sergeant so that we can have a better life together. The army has taught me so much, and now that I am looking at coming home, I’m beginning to see things differently.

  I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m still alive, and if I make it home to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to win you back.

  Love,

  Dylan

  I lowered the letter to the table and stared at it as if the words were some cryptic code I had to decipher. After placing letter number one back in its envelope, I eyed the four other letters waiting for me to read them. There wasn’t enough energy in the world for me to open another one right now, so I rested my head in my hands. The weight of Dylan’s words felt like a thousand-pound stale cookie resting on my shoulders.

  A jingle at the door told me another customer had entered, but I didn’t have the strength to lift my head and face them.

  A large, strong hand rubbed my back between my shoulders. I didn’t have to turn around for my body to know that touch. It was as familiar today as it was almost three years ago.

  “Are you okay?” Dylan asked. His voice was hoarse and gritty. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I shot up, knocking the chair back with a bang. “I’m fine.”

  Dylan didn’t react to my outburst like he would have when we were in high school. Instead, he stooped, retrieved the chair, put it upright again, and then waited. I wasn’t sure for what, but he stood there at attention as if waiting for a command.

  “Look at you. I don’t know you at all. The boy who hated rules, broke every one of them, now lives by the ultimate rules of combat.”