“Everything worked out okay, huh?” A flicker of hope spears through me as if somehow the fact that everything worked out between him and Marley will churn out similar results for me. But I should know better. I’m a far cry from my big brother. I’ve never had the luck he’s had with relationships.
“Everything worked out perfectly, but, up until that point, I had an ex to deal with myself.”
“Really?” That surge of hope takes over again. A weight lifts off my chest as if this entire mess were already behind me.
“Yes, really. And to top it off, Marley had some batshit relative working against us. It wasn’t all a bed of roses, but we’re in love. This is it. She’s my forever, and come this June”—a giant grin blooms over his face—“we’re making it official.”
“What? Congratulations, man.” I pull him in, slightly stunned and happy as hell for him.
“There’s actually more to it. Annie and Blake are getting married, too. Annie thought it was sweet the way Baya and Laney had a double wedding, and she and Marley are best friends, so when they found out they were both destined to be June brides, they asked if we wouldn’t mind teaming up.”
“You and Blake biting the dust on the same day? Geez.” I pull him in again and shoot Blake a thumbs-up as he wails into the mic. He shoots one right back with a wink.
“So that’s what they’re doing over there.” He taps his knuckles over the bar. “Spending some money.”
We share a dull laugh.
“I can’t believe this.” It’s the first time I’ve smiled in two solid weeks, and a coat of guilt fills me, heavy as marbles.
Holt wipes down the counter in front of us, and Wyatt nods to him. “And you know about this guy, right?”
“No way,” I groan to Holt before offering up a fist bump. “Are you taking one for the team, too? When’s the big day?”
“August lucky thirteenth.”
“Man.” I give a wistful shake of the head. “You guys are falling like flies.”
Holt pushes out a short-lived grin. “You don’t know how lucky I feel. I used to dream of being with Izzy, and now I am. It’s like something I waited for my entire life I finally have right here in front of me. Gift wrapped. It’s Christmas morning every single day.” Someone calls for his attention, and he swats his towel over his shoulder before taking off. My stomach falls to my feet. I know exactly what he’s talking about. Being with Cassidy would feel like just that, Christmas morning over and over again.
“I’d better get back there.” Wyatt’s chest bloats with his next lungful. “I hope you find what we have. You deserve it, Cade.”
He takes off, and I lose any desire to sit on this stool for another second. Instead, I make my way to the back, to the poolroom in hopes of finding Owen hanging out with his buddies, and sure enough, there they are, Piper and her two girlfriends included.
“Big brother!” Piper gifts me a running hug. “Can I get you anything? Do you want me to get you some soup?” Her big blue eyes expand twice the size.
“No, that’s okay.” A dull laugh rattles in my chest. For the last week and a half, Piper has been plying me with comfort foods, and for the last week and a half, I’ve been trying to convince her I don’t have the flu. I’m sick both physically and emotionally, yes, but that’s because I miss the hell out of Cassidy. I’m concerned for her. She’s been my one singular thought from the moment I met her right here at this bar.
“Where is she?” I plead with my sister. For as often as she’s been trying to hydrate me with fluids, I’ve been begging her for answers to no avail.
Something in her loosens as she looks to Owen for help.
“Dude”—I head straight over and try my hardest not to shake the shit out of him—“tell me where she is. I’ll do whatever you want.” I’m this close to bribing him with cash and prizes.
Owen looks over my shoulder at Piper while his two buddies, Jet and Rex, flank him on either side, offering up their sympathy to me as if there’s been a death in the family, and in a way it feels as if there has been.
Owen shifts his pool stick from one hand to the other. “She’s at Stilettos.”
I bolt out the door and make a mad dash for my car. I hop inside and shout “Stilettos” into the GPS, and before I know it, I’m headed to Jepson.
Nobody is more startled to shit than me to be circling a strip club on a Friday night in hopes to track down the woman I love. I hit the rear of the establishment and park in the boonies before running like hell to get inside.
“Whoa, cowboy.” A roided-out bouncer holds up his stump of an arm, barring me from the entry. Something about the way he called me cowboy makes this feel like a good omen. “Pay up. Cover’s fifty bucks.”