Make Me Believe: Jilted: The Bride Page 6

  “Which one,” Claudia asked.

  “Luke. Michael. Both! Both of them! Who does that? Who interrupts a wedding? Who leaves their bride at the altar? This isn’t supposed to happen in real life!”

  “What did Michael say?”

  “That he was doing it for me.” She wasn’t sure she believed that. It felt more like his ego was in play, especially after their talk the night Claudia and Maria got engaged. How could he have just walked away? He’d made the decision before she’d even had time to process what was happening.

  Someone knocked softly on the door and Claudia peeked through, then opened it to allow Maria to slip in.

  “Did you know?” Rowan asked accusingly.

  Maria stopped like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

  “Did you know Luke was going to interrupt the wedding? Is that why you told Claudia to ask me if I wanted to run?”

  “No! I just…had a feeling you might be having second thoughts.” She hunched her shoulders forward a little.

  Making Maria feel bad made Rowan feel even crappier. Maria wouldn’t sabotage her wedding on purpose.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get a grip on what’s happening.”

  “I hate to bring this up,” Maria said. “But the cops are here.”

  Rowan threw up her hands, then pressed them to her diaphragm. Her perfectly tailored dress was suddenly too tight and felt like it was getting tighter by the second. The whole situation was pressing down on her and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “I need to get out of this dress. Get me out.” She tugged at the skirt and fumbled with the closure at the back. “Get me out!”

  Maria and Claudia rushed to her.

  “Okay. Okay. Calm down,” Claudia said.

  “I can’t breathe,” she said.

  “It’s loose. You’re out.”

  Finally, the dress gave and she inhaled as if it was the first breath she’d taken after almost drowning. She pushed the fabric over her hips and stepped out of the puddle of satin and lace.

  Frantically, she searched through the piles of clothes on the chairs and small couches but couldn’t find her bag with the sweats and button-down she’d worn while getting her hair and makeup done.

  “Here.” Maria held out her overnight bag.

  “Thank you.” She kicked off the strappy heels she’d found on sale, stripped off the garter, and pulled on her pants and shirt.

  “What do you want to do?” Claudia asked.

  “I don’t know. Crawl out a window and disappear for a few days.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I can’t get out there and face all those people. All the shame and judgment. My fiancé jilted me—literally at the altar.”

  “No one’s going to judge you,” Claudia said.

  Rowan straightened from shoving her things back into her bag. “Have you met my family? I don’t even know half of Michael’s. If I was them, I’d be judging me. I need to go somewhere to clear my head and figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

  “It’s probably a good idea anyway,” Maria said. “You’re starting to trend.”

  “What?”

  She and Claudia crowded Maria to look at the Twitter app on the screen of the phone she held.

  “Oh my god—I’m a hashtag!” She scrolled through the feed, finally finding the original tweet. “I’m going to kill my cousin Tanya!”

  “You’re not a hashtag,” Claudia said.

  Rowan glared at her. “Do you know anyone else who was ‘hashtag: jilted’ today? No? Me neither.”

  She dragged her feet over to one of the loveseats, shoved a bag onto the floor with a satisfying thunk, and sat down with her head on her knees.

  “It’s only a matter of time before I’m a meme. This is going to end up on Buzzfeed or Bored Panda or some other click-bait website.”

  Claudia sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be ridiculous. At the very least you’re going to end up on TMZ. Maybe even Jimmy Fallon.”

  Rowan lifted her head and glared at her best friend. “Not. Helping.”

  “You can always go to the cabin,” Maria said.

  She sat up straight, dislodging Claudia’s arm. “That’s perfect.”

  Claudia shook her head. “No, it’s not. My dad hasn’t been up there yet. It’s not stocked with anything.”

  “I don’t care. I can stop at Walmart and get food on the way.”

  Claudia shifted to face her more fully. “Rowan, there’s not going to be enough fuel in the generator for more than a couple of days at the most.”

  “I don’t care! I’ll buy some extra socks and a coat and a blanket. I can get gas on the way. I have to get out of here.” She grabbed Claudia’s hand. “I’m clucking, Claudia. Please.”

  Claudia sighed. “All right.”

  Yes! This was perfect. She could disappear from reality for a few days until the whole thing blew over and some celebrity did or said something stupid to knock her off the trending list. She already had two weeks off from work, so no one was expecting her and she could really stay at the cabin that entire time. She’d send her dad a text to let him know she was safe—he’d understand more than anyone else her need to be alone. She could throw everything in the back of her car—her shoulders sagged.

  “My car’s at my house. I rode over with Adalynn this morning.”

  “You can take mine,” Maria said.

  For two weeks? Maria was quickly becoming her new favorite person. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I’ll ride back with Claudia. Let me go get my keys.” She slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind her.

  Rowan felt the weight of Claudia’s gaze. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “I need time to figure out what the hell I’m going to do and I can’t do that with everyone giving me their opinion of what they think I should do, which is exactly what my mom and sister will do if I stick around.”

  “You don’t want to try to talk to him first? Both hims?”

  Rowan shook her head. “I know Michael. Once he makes a decision, he sticks to it. And…I don’t know that I could get over him walking away.” A tear slid down her cheek, the finality of the situation hitting her at last. “He walked away, Claudia. Without a fight.”

  “Oh, honey.” Claudia pulled her close and leaned her head against his. “Maybe he thinks this is what you want. What about Luke?”

  “I—” She shook her head again. “I have no freaking clue.”

  The cops decided not to arrest him since neither Rowan nor her family had followed them to make an official complaint. Her parents were talking to the wedding planner, who looked as flustered as a house full of hens with a new rooster. Luke wasn’t sure what was going on with the groom’s family.

  Some of the guests had left, but most still milled around seemingly unsure of what to do. Several had gotten over the fact that he’d interrupted the wedding enough to ask to take pictures. One woman had even asked him to sign the wedding program. What the hell. Must have been one of Rowan’s relatives, although he didn’t recognize her.

  He continued to scan the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rowan leaving, but so far no such luck. He did recognize the woman from the concert though. Her girlfriend had been the maid of honor. She appeared to be making a beeline for him and looked over her shoulder a few times. He rounded his car so it was between him and Rowan’s family, in case she didn’t want to be seen talking to him.

  Sure enough, she rounded the back of the truck parked next to him.

  “Have you talked to her? How is she?” he asked.

  She didn’t reply, only handed him another freaking note. What was this? Middle school?

  He looked at it, then back at her. “What’s this? Directions? To hell?”

  She smirked. “Not quite. Rowan is going to Claudia’s family’s cabin for a few days to clear her head.�
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  And she just handed him the directions to the cabin. “Why are you helping me?”

  “I. Don’t. Know.” She gestured with her hands wide. “I just know it’s supposed to happen.”

  Luke’s brows furrowed. “What are you? Psychic?”

  “Eh. Sometimes.” She shrugged and walked around the back of his rental, heading in the opposite direction from where she’d come.

  That was clear as mud and it all sounded hokey to him. The directions were probably to an abandoned warehouse where four hired goons were waiting to give him a beatdown. At this point, he didn’t care. He’d already ignored close to a dozen calls and messages from Brett and Marla. He didn’t give a damn what her motivation was as long as it got him to Rowan. Even if he did have to get a beatdown before he got there.

  Lord knew he deserved it.

  Chapter 12

  Rowan squinted through the windshield and watched lightning streak across the sky, highlighting the thick, dark clouds. Why not add early spring thunderstorm to the list of things that happened today?

  So what if there was only one thing on the list? Ex-boyfriend objects during wedding made for a stupendously epic, one-item list.

  Fat, heavy raindrops splattered on the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it, obscuring her view of the narrow road. It’d been a couple of years since she’d been up there and the last time she’d ridden with Claudia. The headlights bore a small hole through the darkness so she barely made out the outline of the narrow bridge before she rattled over it. At least she knew she was close to the cabin. Unless there was another narrow wooden bridge over a wide creek. She leaned closer over the steering wheel and slowed to a crawl. Finally, the lights glinted on the battered turn here if you’re lost sign.

  She’d asked Claudia the first time where people turned when they weren’t lost. She’d had no idea since they were never lost. Rowan knew then there was more than one way to be lost and envied her friend her confidence. Now, she knew where she was going and she still felt lost.

  The road veered to the right and continued to wind through the abundant woods. Lightning cracked and lit the sky as she broke through the tree line into the clearing of the cabin. Another flash lit up the small two-bedroom cabin, giving the whole scene an ominous and creepy feeling.

  “This is how horror movies start.”

  She pulled parallel to the door so she had only a few feet between her and being under the covered porch.

  “Alone in the middle of nowhere, Rowan thought she’d reached safety when the solitary cabin came into view.” She affected a dramatic movie-preview voice. “But much like Hansel and Gretel, she would soon learn appearances are always deceiving.

  “Awesome. I’m freaking myself out.” She grabbed her phone from the console to pull up the notes app where she’d saved the code for the lock box. Claudia had explained her dad had done that one year after they’d lost the keys and paid out the wazoo for a locksmith.

  She shut off the engine and the sound of the rain pounding on the car increased. “Shoot. Maybe I should have gone to a hotel.”

  No. She needed this time alone. To think. To not think. To do some freaking yoga in the woods even though she never did yoga, but the idea of doing yoga at a time like this seemed like something she should consider. Even if her version of yoga was propping her fuzzy sock-clad feet up on the back porch railing while drinking coffee and wondering if there were any bears in the woods that would eat her if she decided to actually do yoga.

  An involuntary shiver slithered down her back and she shook her shoulders to get rid of it. Tossing her phone and keys into one of the shopping bags, she grabbed the handles and pushed the door open. Ducking her head, she pivoted out of the car, slammed the door closed, and squealed as the rain hit her. Soaked through before she made it the four steps to the steps leading up to the porch, she used a wet sleeve to wipe the drops off her face.

  She fumbled with the push-button lock, tilting it up, trying in vain to see the numbers. A bolt of lightning gave her a glimpse of the two rows and she managed to enter the code by feel. The key fell out and she poked her fingers at the door to find the lock. She used her hip to push open the door and stumbled into the cabin, leaning against the door when she closed it.

  Even though she knew it was futile, she flipped the light switches next to the door. Nothing.

  “Generator.”

  Setting the bags on the floor, she squatted and rummaged through them until she found her phone and turned on the flashlight. Staring at the phone in her hand, she looked at the door. “Why didn’t you do that outside, doofus?”

  She hated blonde jokes, but at the moment it was probably appropriate. At least she could blame it on stress.

  Standing up, she scanned the small open room. Everything was as she remembered it, right down to the crocheted afghan on the back of the couch.

  She crossed to the back door and threw the bolt, going out onto the back porch. The cool air hit her body hit her rain soaked clothes. A small door on the left end of the porch led to the attached shed that housed the generator. Her flashlight glinted off the metal lock and she stepped back inside to look for the keys. Thankfully, they hung on a hook next to the door and were even labeled.

  “Instructions…instructions…” Claudia had said there was a card taped to the wall next to the door, but the wall was blank. She scanned the floor and found it tucked partway under the corner of a metal locker. Curious, she opened it and found a gas canister. Shining her light in, she found it about three-quarters full.

  She turned to the generator and grimaced. She didn’t even change her own oil and now she was going to start a gas generator so she would have electricity. This was either going on today’s list after she blew herself up or on the list of things she could brag about knowing how to do.

  At least she had instructions—which she followed to the letter. Several minutes later, the generator was chugging away with less than half a tank of gas that would get her through three to four days if she didn’t run it during most of the day.

  The true test came when she flipped the light switch.

  “Hurray!” She closed and locked the door, then grabbed the bags from beside the door and carried them to the small table. “Not so Stalker in the Woods with the lights on.”

  A shiver racked her body, reminding her she was still wet. She grabbed the shopping bags with the clothes she’d bought at Walmart and carried them into the bedroom, changing into a pair of cheap sweats and a zip-up hoodie. Going through the motions of unpacking the food and finding a pot and pan to make grilled cheese and soup helped her calm her nerves and settle into the cabin. It was still creepy, knowing she was alone with no one else around for miles. If this were a movie, she’d be calling herself stupid for being there. Thankfully, it wasn’t a movie, and she wasn’t a dumb blonde going down into the basement. Besides, if anyone had a reason to go on a murderous rampage it was her.

  She carried her bowl and plate to the living room and propped her feet up on the table in front of her. Concentrating on her soup and sandwich, she avoided any deep thoughts about the day’s events. There would be plenty of time to analyze everything that went wrong when she was lying in bed trying to go to sleep. Thinking about it now wouldn’t stop that from happening and she’d rather do it just once.

  Returning to the kitchen, she washed the bowl and plate. A loud knock at the door startled her and she dropped the soapy pot in the sink. She turned off the water and stood stock-still.

  Maybe it was thunder?

  Her hope died a quick death when another knock, sharper than the first, came from the door.

  Oh my god! There is a serial killer!

  A serial killer wouldn’t knock.

  Maybe not in the 1980’s movie version, but the 2019 version? Absolutely.

  It’s probably Michael. Her Michael, not Michael Myers.

  Her shoulders drooped remembering the look in his eyes right before he’s walked away. It wasn�
��t Michael.

  Maybe it’s a cocky, single-dad, ex-Navy SEAL-turned-lumberjack who’s a secret billionaire who’s lost his way in the woods along with his shirt!

  “Wow. I have been reading way too much romance.”

  She dried her hands on the dish towel and crossed to the front door as the person on the other side knocked again. More likely it was Claudia and Maria checking on her.

  Since there was no peephole or chain to verify it wasn’t a serial killer, she set her foot firmly on the floor and opened the door a few inches.

  “Guys, you didn’t have—What are you doing here?”

  “Rowan—” Luke stumbled forward.

  Blood ran down his face from a cut on his forehead. She tried to stop his fall but couldn’t hold his weight and let him fall to the floor, where he lay unmoving.

  She stared down at him and pursed her lips. “I would have preferred a serial killer.”

  Chapter 13

  Jesus his head hurt. And his neck and back. Luke tried to roll to his side and fell back with a groan as pain throbbed in his head. The floor probably explained why his back hurt so much.

  He blinked open his eyes and stared up at the wooden door.

  “You’re awake. Good.”

  He turned his head enough to see Rowan walking across the cabin toward him with a mug.

  “What happened?”

  “No idea. You knocked on the door. I opened it. You fell to the floor bleeding from a cut on your head.”

  Rain. Sliding. Tree. Airbag.

  “I slid off the road into a tree.”

  “Hmm.” She handed him the mug and he smelled some kind of tea.

  “Hmm? I tell you I slid into a tree and that’s your response?”

  “Here. Tylenol.” She placed two tablets in his palm when he held out his hand. “I have more to say, but I’m waiting until you’re not naked on the floor to ask them.”

  He lifted the blanket that covered him and stared down his torso. “Where are my clothes?”

  “No idea. You were only wearing your underwear when you showed up.”