She stood silent for a moment. “That’s why he hates you. You turned him in.” It wasn’t a question. “Why wasn’t he kicked off the teams?”
Tag scowled. “Because he spun it and there was no proof.”
The fucking bastard had pinned the theft on a local recruit and claimed he’d just discovered the missing money himself. Sure he had. Which was why he’d posted a lookout at the door and was stuffing a grand in his pocket when Tag pushed his way into the room.
“When was this?” Sarah asked slowly, the crease in her forehead deepening.
“Three rotations ago.” At least she appeared to be listening now.
“This theft…you couldn’t prove it was him?”
Tag frowned. “It was him.”
She seemed to shake herself. “But you couldn’t prove it, so it doesn’t matter.”
What the fuck?
He pulled his foot out of the door and stepped back. “It doesn’t matter?” he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. “What the hell happened to you?”
“No—it doesn’t matter. Don’t come back here.” Her face was blank again, her voice unyielding, her hand steady as she closed the door in his face.
For all of two seconds, he thought about knocking again. But it was damn clear that nothing he said was going to make a difference. Not when she’d given Mitch carte blanche.
Still, the sense of wrongness—the sense that he was missing something—followed him down the stairs and over to his truck.
Chapter Two
Two days later, Sarah Gillespie stood frozen, staring sightlessly into the oval, free-standing mirror in the corner of the bridal suite at the Wedding Knot planning center. Although calling the room a suite was a stretch. Nothing about the cramped, out-of-date closet of a space elevated it to suite status.
I’m not here to get you back.
This was her wedding day, and everything was wrong. So terribly wrong.
That ship sailed a long time ago.
The venue was cheap and tired. Her wedding dress was old and scratchy. Only not sentimental and treasured old, like her mother’s wedding dress. No, it was thrift store I-don’t-give-a-crap old. Sean, her brother, hadn’t showed up to walk her down the aisle. Her mind skittered away from that worry, from the possibilities of why he wasn’t here, by her side.
And then there was the groom. He was worse than wrong.
He was an abomination.
I’m not here to get you back. That ship sailed a long time ago.
She tried to breathe, but her lungs wouldn’t cooperate, refusing to draw breath past the concrete block sinking into her chest. Brett’s words had been spinning through her mind for the past forty-eight hours—cutting and shredding, leaving bloody swaths through the hope she’d survived on for the past two years.
That hope had been propping her up, the belief that he’d be waiting for her when she broke free of this nightmare and could go to him again. She couldn’t continue this farce without trusting that what they’d shared two years ago had been so strong, so perfect, so fated, that Mitch couldn’t keep them apart forever.
She couldn’t do this without him waiting for her. She couldn’t.
“Sarah.”
The agony burned too deep for the release of tears. Or maybe the tears had all been charred to ash months and months ago.
What did you expect? Did you really expect him to wait for you when he had no clue what you were doing? Or why you were doing it? No clue what was really going on? For heaven’s sake, you dumped him. You dumped him with no warning, no explanation, and immediately hooked up with his rival. Did you really expect him to wait for you?
The breath she forced out of her lungs and up her throat burned like fire and held a raw, panicked rattle. A clear indication she was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Sarah?”
Truth be told, she hadn’t let herself wonder if Brett would wait, or if he would forgive her once she explained. She hadn’t let herself think about him at all because the doubt would crucify her. Because there was a better-than-good chance that he wouldn’t forgive her—even after she explained—that he couldn’t forgive her. His loyalty, his integrity, his dedication, the very qualities that had drawn her to him in the first place would send him away.
“Sarah!”
The sharpness in Langley’s voice finally pierced the miasma sucking her life down the drain. Sarah turned, plastering across her face the mask she’d learned to hide behind. She had so many regrets these