Always Forever, Page 2

  Hope looks down at herself, her lips very slowly turning upward in a beaming smile. She blinks, fighting tears, I think. Her whole face transforms, radiating happiness. When people talk about someone glowing, this must be what they mean.

  “You’re getting married today,” Lucy sings.

  Hope bounces on the tips of her toes. “I’m getting MARRIED TODAY.”

  Her excitement is contagious. Though there are only six of us in the room—one of which is a toddler—we all giddily succumb to her enthusiasm, cheering so obnoxiously for the bride-to-be that it sounds like the reception has already begun. And all my pent up tension over Kellin floats away.

  “Okay.” Hope shakes her arms out and puts a serious face on. “Let’s do this.”

  Annie grins, unzipping the garment bag. “Dress time.”

  Guy passes Emari to Lucy and she takes her over to the window on the other side of the room to look out at the small garden area. Even though we all know about Hope’s past with self-harm, she doesn’t want us to see her scars. The tokens of who she used to be. As strange as it may sound, my brother is the only one—other than Mason—she will allow to see her naked. More than her best man of honor, Guy is her best friend. The person closest to her outside of her fiancé. Even if he weren’t gay, I’m not sure it would change anything between them. They have a bond stronger than he and I have, and he’s my brother.

  Hope begins unbuttoning her shirt and none of us need to be reminded. We all turn away to give her privacy, but stay close in case they need assistance. I can hear the shuffling of the material and my heart beats a little faster. I can’t wait to see my foster sister in her wedding dress. The girl who didn’t believe in love, now getting ready to spend the rest of her life with someone.

  “Is that right?” Guy asks.

  “Yes,” Hope whispers. I hear the quiver in her voice, the small yet powerful reaction obvious she’s holding back tears once again. I swallow tightly, choked with my own emotion. The Patel brothers came into our lives five years ago like a tidal wave, fast and without warning. For Hope, Mason washed away the painful memories, cleansing her of the agony, and absolving her of her destructive choices.

  And nothing has ever been the same for any of us. Mason changed Hope’s life for the better—helped her get into counseling and stuck by her even when she was her own worst enemy. He makes her feel good on her worst days.

  He and his brother have a knack for that.

  “You’re killing me,” Annie says. “Are you done?”

  Hope clears her throat. “Yep.”

  I pivot on my heels to find Guy embracing Hope securely. She clings to him tightly and I feel like I’m invading on some silent, intimate moment between the two. As if they’re having an entire conversation with their arms, their fingers, and the pressure of their touch. And I feel like they’re saying goodbye in some way.

  “Seriously?” Annie tugs on Guy’s sleeve. “Hug her later. I want to see her in the dress she chose without me.”

  Hope sighs, quickly swiping away a tear before it can drop. “Cheese and rice. Get over it, Annie,” she croaks. “We were states away from each other and it was on sale. I couldn’t wait for you. And, by the way, let’s not forget you picked your dress without me.”

  Guy steps out of the way and whatever retort Annie was getting ready to shoot off is forgotten.

  “I can’t even be mad it isn’t white,” Annie croons.

  Lucy circles Hope, grinning. “You look beautiful.”

  And she does. Hope isn’t the dress type, but the cream-colored gown suits her as if it were made especially with her in mind. The silky material hugs her body softly before pooling on the floor around her bare feet, which much to Annie’s dislike, Hope intends to keep bare. The back is open, gathering in folds at the small of her back, showing off her smooth pale skin, as well as the blackbird tattoo Mason loves so much.

  Hope chose to wear very little make-up—basically only what Annie absolutely insisted on—and her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders naturally. She’s a simple bride, and she’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to see Mason’s face when he watches her come down the aisle.

  There’s soft tapping at the door, stirring me from my thoughts. I make my way across the room, my heels clicking on the wooden floor. Mason stands on the other side of the door, dressed in a pristine black suit, camera in hand as if he’s trying to burst my happy little thought bubble and sneak an early peek at his bride to be.

  “Who is it?” Annie calls.

  “It’s Mason,” I say flatly. He grins at my narrowed eyes.

  “I’m the photographer,” he reminds me, raising the camera to add emphasis.

  “He wants to take pictures.”

  “Let him in,” Hope insists happily, clearly not concerned with superstition.

  A puff of air surges between Annie’s lips. “NO. Tell him to go away. He knows he can’t see the bride before the wedding. It’s bad luck.”

  Standing less than a foot away from him, I don’t bother relaying either message. He pouts his lips, pulling the strap over his head, and hands me the camera. “I brought five memory cards so get as many pictures as you can. She likes to make stupid faces when the camera comes out—try to get some candid shots or all of our wedding pictures will be of her cross eyed and tongue out.”

  I laugh because I know it’s true. “Okay.”

  “Thanks.” He slides his phone out of his pocket, checking the time. “Thirty minutes,” he yells to Hope. “If you’re having second thoughts you better take off now.”

  “You have my keys,” she yells back.

  He chuckles, the dimples in his cheeks appearing. “You run, I run with you.” He winks at me, leaning in conspiratorially. “Right to Vegas,” he whispers.

  “The only place I’m running is straight to you,” Hope bellows.

  “Oh, my God,” Annie mutters. “You guys are going to make me run to the bathroom—so I can vomit. Go away.”

  Mason shakes his head, laughing. “All right. I’m going.” He points at the camera. “Lots of pictures.”

  “Okay,” I assure him as he retreats down the hallway. “Hey Mason?”

  He glances over his shoulder at me. “Yeah?”

  “Is Kellin here yet?” Waiting to see him is torture. I keep running through all the different scenarios. Maybe I’ll hug him. Maybe I’ll put on my big girl panties and kiss him. Maybe…

  “He rode here with me,” Mason replies, smiling knowingly.

  I release a breath. A storm of nerves attack. Thunder and lightning in my veins. “Thanks,” I utter. “And you look nice, by the way.”

  He slides his hand over his tie, pausing on his stomach. “Just wait til you see Kel.”

  2

  Kellin

  I would rather be anywhere else in the world than here. Standing in the same little church where my parents were married, watching my mom look around with that expression on her face—nostalgic, sad, and joyful all at once. Listening to my brother share his dreams of the same kind of marriage—the same kind of love—my parents had, though silently praying it lasts longer. And knowing that in exactly three minutes, those doors at the end of the aisle are going to open and I’m going to see the girl that had me wanting those same damn things before she broke my heart.

  I’m going to be forced to watch her walk toward me, reminding me this isn’t our time, looking prettier than she’s ever looked before. And I’ll have to face the truth.

  It will never be our time.

  The past month flashes through my mind like a dream. All our talks. Our hopes. Our plans. Just to find out it was all bullshit.

  Mason smacks me on the shoulder, grinning like a lunatic. He’s cool as ice. Not a doubt in his mind. The most confident groom in history.

  From the back of the room, positioned on either side of the doors, Park, Lucy’s husband, and Chase, Annie’s boyfriend, perform their usher duties—which mostly consist of them making faces at Guy and Mason in be
tween escorting guests to their seats.

  “Just remember,” Guy says, his eyes trained on the door, but clearly speaking to my brother. “If you ever hurt her in any way, shape, or form, I’ll rip your nuts off and feed them to you with a dirty spoon. Clear?”

  “Crystal,” Mason replies without missing a beat—or losing the smile.

  “The same goes for you,” Guy adds, shifting his gaze to me. “You ever make my little sister cry from anything other than happiness, you’ll find out what your testicles taste like.”

  I raise my eyebrows, stunned that he’s threatening me after Misty was the one to lead me on and leave puncture wounds in my chest.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Guy mutters. “I know about all your little texting, messaging, face-timing whatever. She tells me everything. Nesquik.”

  My heart lunges into my throat and I feel my pulse spike for several seconds with the shock of his knowledge. And then I laugh. It’s a terrible time to laugh, in church, up front where everyone can see me, but I can’t hold it in.

  Misty has a big family. And when I say big, I mean huge. She is one of eight kids, five of which are still in her house daily. Sometimes during our conversations, she and I talk about sex. The fact she hasn’t had it yet, how I have had it—once with Marissa Howard after homecoming, and a handful of times with Gwen Longwell while we were dating—how she wants to have it, and how maybe we could have it with each other. But when there are four other kids always coming in and out of rooms or picking up phones, we decided we needed a code name. I suggested calling it “making chocolate milk.” Misty came up with the modified version. Nesquik.

  My laughter dies off for several reasons. One, Guy looks like he wants to make good on his testicle promise, which I’m in no hurry to see how real that threat is. Two, I have over fifty sets of eyes on me—and I don’t even know who most of them belong to. And lastly, Misty and I will never make Nesquik together—or any other form of delicious drinks for that matter.

  “Nesquik?” Mason questions.

  The music trickles from the speakers and I’m spared from answering. Everyone turns as the doors open. My pulse is throbbing again, this time because I know she’s coming. I scan the people in the pews, trying to determine which one is Misty’s date. Which one of these guys she really wants to make Nesquik with.

  Misty’s seven-year-old brother and sister bounce through the doorway claiming my attention. I just saw the twins at Hope’s graduation last month, but I swear it looks like they grew an inch each. Though they started out side-by-side, Archer makes it down the row first and I kneel, slipping Hope’s ring from the small pillow.

  Amy’s too busy meticulously dropping rose petals one at a time to keep up. It takes her twice as long to find her way to the sanctuary. This is followed up with laughter and murmurs from the pews, but it all sounds far away because a bridesmaid comes next, followed by another, and then—though I’m pissed as hell at her, my mouth goes dry when my eyes meet Misty’s. She grins at me—one of those breath-stealing smiles that gets me every time. Her lips are pink and shiny and I’ve never craved the taste of lip-gloss so badly in my life.

  Those pale blue eyes stay focused on me the whole time as she closes the distance. And I’m a total fucking sucker because I can’t look away. She’s pulling me right back into her web, and once I’m stuck, she’ll suck the life right out of me. Again.

  “Holy shit,” Mason breathes, and I finally break free of Misty’s spell. I follow my brother’s gaze, landing on Hope as she passes through the doors accompanied by Misty’s dad—Hope’s foster dad.

  I shove my issues aside and try to stay in the moment. This moment where Mason is happier than I have ever seen him. This moment where Hope looks so pretty and free, nearly floating toward my brother. This is their day. Their time. And I’m happy for them.

  “Take care of her,” Alec murmurs before releasing Hope’s hand.

  “Yes, sir. Always.” And then to Hope, “You look… Can I say it?”

  She looks down at herself and does a half shrug half nod gesture as if she can’t argue with him.

  Mason grins widely. “Beautiful. You look abso-fucking-lutely beautiful.”

  As if of their own will, my eyes slide to Misty. Her long dirty-blonde hair is straight and smooth. It looks soft, silky, touchable. She’s in the same sleeveless green dress as all the other bridesmaids, but to me, she’s the prettiest. So pretty, in fact, it hurts to look at her. I force my gaze away, giving the happy couple all of my attention.

  After the minister says a few words, it’s Hope and Mason’s turn to exchange their own vows. Mason slips a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and clears his throat. The paper crinkles loudly as he opens it and I notice his hands are shaking. It’s the first sign of nerves he’s shown all day.

  The room falls utterly silent as my brother begins.

  “Hope, the first time I saw you I fell in love,” Mason rasps. “A lot of people have balked at that over the years, unable to understand or believe how I could possibly fall in love on the spot.

  “I’ll admit, at first, it was superficial love. I was kind of in love with your toes—hanging out of the car window, bouncing to the beat of your music. Then I fell a little in love with your Beatles t-shirt. Next was your beauty.” He licks his lips and gives his head a sharp shake, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. “And when you kicked that guy’s ass in the parking lot, I fell for your badassory.

  “Then there was your love of music, the way you killed it on cello and rocked out on drums, your lyrics and singing, your fondness of bad scary movies, and your adoration of all things candy.”

  We all laugh lightly, aware of Hope’s obsession with sweets.

  “But I think what really sealed the deal was how you loved people. I fell in love with the way you love—wholeheartedly and passionately. Your compassion and protectiveness for others took me by the balls and never let me go.

  “And so I promise to love you back just as fiercely. I also promise to substitute candy for flowers, and to never eat Oreos without you for as long as we both shall live.”

  Hope’s chin trembles and she runs the backs of her fingers under her eyes. She’s crying and laughing at the same time—more emotion than I can recall in all the time I’ve known her.

  “I didn’t write mine down,” she says softly. “But I have every line memorized because I think about them daily. Mason, the day we met was the best day of my life. I didn’t know it at the time—it seemed like any other day—but when I reflect on it now, I know I was sleeping through my life. You woke me up and changed everything for me.

  “You’ve made me a stronger, more confident woman. Helping me find myself and heal from old wounds.”

  She pauses, sucking in a sharp breath.

  “I can never express how much that means to me, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying.

  “I vow to make every day count. I promise to keep that Beatles t-shirt until it turns to dust.”

  Mason grins, pressing his palms together and mouthing the words thank you.

  Hope laughs, and then sobers quickly. “And I swear to love you like you deserve to be loved.”

  “Would you like to exchange rings?” the minister asks.

  That’s my cue. I pat my pockets, trying to remember where I put it. Mason looks back at me, worry crinkling his brows. I feel it in my jacket, but pretend to keep searching anyway. I only get so many chances to mess with him and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

  I widen my eyes and shake my head. “Shit,” I whisper for extra effect. “I’m so fucking sorry, man.” My mom is probably hanging her head in embarrassment between my cursing in a church and “losing” the ring.

  So fucking worth it.

  “No you didn’t,” he says. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat as he swallows and I can’t keep a straight face any longer.

  I pull the ring out, holding it up for everyone to see. “Just kidding.” I hear Misty l
augh appreciatively, but I keep my gaze on my brother.

  Mason closes his eyes, his shoulders relaxing. “I’m going to remember this,” he states, plucking the ring from my hand. “One day, it’s going to be your turn up here, and I’m going to make you pay. You just wait.”

  I grin. I’m not remotely worried. In about twenty seconds, he’s going to be so damn happy he’ll forget all about me.

  Rings are exchanged and Mason’s directed to kiss his new bride, which turns into a mini make out session. After several throat clearings, and Annie throwing flower buds from her bouquet at Hope, they finally break apart and everyone cheers.

  3

  Misty

  I’m standing just inside the doors with my best friend, Sadie, waiting for Kellin to arrive at the reception. Seeing him earlier at the wedding looking adorable in his suit was a little painful because I couldn’t talk to him or touch him. I swear, when he walks through this door, I might tackle-hug him.

  And then kiss him.

  The thought alone gives me goose bumps.

  “You look like you’re going to throw up,” Sadie says. She nudges me with her elbow until I acknowledge her.

  “I might. I’m so nervous. Did you see how sexy he was all dressed up?”

  “I did,” she agrees enthusiastically. “I hope he brought a friend just as attractive for me.”

  I smile at the thought. If Sadie hooked up with one of Kellin’s friends, then maybe I could talk her into applying to some colleges in Illinois with me. I’ve been researching schools for a couple of weeks now. Hope left Ohio for Mason. I think I could do the same for Kellin. If we made this official, which I’m hoping to accomplish tonight.

  There are those goose bumps again. I try to shake them off as I smooth my hair. I hope it’s holding up and my make-up still looks good.

  “I’m going to make a quick trip to the bathroom to touch up,” I say. “Watch for him for me?”