Entice - Dyken Rachel Van (лучшие книги читать онлайн .TXT) 📗

Mil saluted. “Clothed in his best-man clothes and grinning like a fool.”

“Damn morphine.”

“He uh…” Mil’s eyes bore into mine. “He forwent his pain meds this last hour. He wanted to remember everything.”

“I bet he did.” I laughed. “Okay, let’s do this.”

I went into the small hospital chapel, followed by Mil and Tex. Mo was on Trace-duty. She’d lied to Trace and told her we were going out to a really nice dinner. She’d even taken her to a stylist so she could pick out a kick-ass dress. My way of apologizing, again, for a vacation that had ended up in bloodshed.

“Why are we here again?” Trace’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Oh, I thought we should say goodbye to everyone. They decided to hang out with Chase since he’s so bored.”

“Chase gets bored all the time. What else is new? And did they move his room?”

Chase chuckled from the front pew.

“Here they are!” The doors to the chapel burst open.

Mo may have overdone it with the surprise in her voice, but it was all worth it to see Trace’s face. Her eyes narrowed in on the flowers filling the room, and then she looked at Mil, dressed in a pink flowing dress, Chase dressed in a tux, Tex in a tux, and then me.

“What’s going on? Are we all going to dinner or something? And why are we in a church? Oh my gosh.” Her face paled, “Chase, you’re okay, right?”

“Ready?” Luca cleared his throat ignoring Trace. He walked to the front and held out a Bible.

Really, it was shocking that he was allowed to even hold a Bible, let alone conduct a ceremony. Then again, my whole life I’d played by the rules. I’d bled for them. I’d fought for them. For once, I wanted to break them. I was going to break Catholic tradition. I was going to break the whole long engagement tradition, and I was going to marry my lover, my best friend, in a hospital, with one of the scariest men I’d ever known conducting the ceremony.

“Do you have the rings?” he asked.

“Rings?” Trace whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“You did say yes.” I stalked toward her. “Didn’t you?”

She nodded her head, a solitary tear streaming down her right cheek. I caught it. I would catch every tear. Every piece of sadness. I’d catch — and never release.

“I want to marry you,” I whispered. “Here. Right now.”

“But that’s so romantic!”

Chase burst out laughing. I turned around and glared. He held up his hands in surrender. Damn it, where was my gun?

“I found a little romance.” I winked.

Trace took my outstretched arm and walked with me, but I held up my finger. “Frank?”

“Here.” He stepped into the chapel. “Sorry I was late.” He had tears brimming at the corners of his eyes as he held out his hands to Trace. “Now, I believe it’s time to escort my favorite granddaughter down the aisle.”

Trace ran into his arms and hugged him. He kissed her cheek and embraced her. “Your grandmother would be so proud.”

“She’d be proud of both of us.” Trace stepped back and looped her arm in his. “Now we’re ready.”

Luca grinned. “Who has the rings?”

“I do.” Chase’s voice was loud — clear — strong. He stood from the pew and slowly walked over to Trace’s side. He still wasn’t a hundred percent, but he swore he could make it a few feet without breaking any stitches. He wanted to do this. He was part of her life too. And I would never deny him that, no matter how many times his love for her had almost destroyed me.

“Trace.” Chase reached for her hands. “I wanted to give you away.” He looked behind her to Frank and sighed. “But it seems I was beat.” He grinned. “I wanted to give you away because I love you. You helped me realize what love was. Being your best friend, being with you — it prepared me for Mil. For my wife. I love you with my whole heart. I love Nixon too. Never in a million years would I have guessed that this is how our story would end. But it’s better than I could have ever imagined. I’m so damn proud of the woman you’ve become, the man you make Nixon be. So I bless you, on your wedding day.” He kissed her right cheek, then her left. “May you have many more years filled with love, happiness, laughter…” He laughed. “…and wine. Lots of wine.”

“Here, here.” Mo cheered.

Trace hugged Chase tight and kissed him back on the cheek. He walked back over to Mil and kissed her full on the mouth.

Our story was evidence that sometimes when you try to write it yourself, you get stuck. You can’t see every possible outcome. Maybe that’s why it’s better to let life happen — because sometimes it surprises you.

“Do you, Trace Alfero, take Nixon Abandonato to be your loving husband from this day forward, in sickness and health, through gunfire and hell—”

I shot a glare to an amused Luca.

“—for as long as you both shall live?”

“Yes,” Trace whispered. “Even through gunfire.”

Her wink about had me mauling her.

“And Nixon.” Luca cleared his throat. “Do you take this woman, from this day forward, in sickness and health, through gunfire, hell, your terrible moods, inability to calm your temper and—”

I put up my hand; he winked.

“—for as long as you both shall live?”

“Forever. I take her for as many lifetimes as she’ll give me.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by the Internet and the lovely state of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your—”

I drowned him out.

Her. I just wanted to kiss her. Love her. Be hers.

Trace wrapped her arms around my neck and sighed.

“So, Mrs. Abandonato.” I licked my lips. “How’s that for romance?”

“You’re getting better.” She teased. “What’s next?”

“Dinner.” I shot her a smug smile. “And then who knows? Maybe a nice long vacation.”

“Amen,” Luca muttered under his breath.

Chapter Fifty-One

Tex

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Chase threw a tennis ball at my face and winked.

“I’m here providing entertainment to your poor broken body, and you’re making fun of me?” I taunted, throwing the ball harder, not to hurt him. No, I just wanted to warn him not to mess with me.

“Whoa there.” Chase chuckled. “Low blood sugar? Grouchy because you need food? The girls will be here soon. Do you need like a cracker or something?”

“Stop talking.”

“Wow, you know something’s wrong when the kettle’s pissed about its own color.”

“Dude—”

“And a dude comment?” Chase’s eyebrows rose as he threw the ball back at me.

I was seriously going to abandon my Good Samaritan nature and actually lose my shit for the first time in years if he didn’t stop poking me.

“I’m just tired.” I’d been tired for months. Ever since Mo had broken my heart by actually walking away when I told her it was what was best. I’d figured she’d fight for me. I’d figured she’d at least yell and throw a fit and tell me that she wasn’t going anywhere.

But she’d walked away.

She’d actually listened to me. She’d done the smart thing for once in her life. The one time I’d wanted someone — no, needed someone — to shut the hell up. And she’d easily left.

When I heard her crying in her room, I’d wanted to make it better.

So I’d brought over girl after girl in hopes that instead of being sad — she’d hate me. I wanted her hate. Craved it like a man starving in the desert. If I couldn’t have her love, I wanted her hate, because at least it was something. And now… now she wouldn’t even look at me. It was as if I didn’t exist, as if we didn’t exist.

“It’s hunger.” I nodded. “And sleep deprivation.”

“You aren’t smiling.” Chase pointed out.

“Hunger should make me smile?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But you always smile when you complain. You avert your eyes when you lie. So what gives?”

Damn him.

“Nothing.” I smiled.

“Nicely played.” Chase threw the ball back to me as we fell into a comfortable silence.