Losing Romeo (17 page)

“Hey,” she said as she approached Dafne and Winslow. They had their arms wrapped around each other, both of them wearing smitten expressions. “You guys know there’s no grinding allowed, right?”

Dafne’s cheeks flamed red. “Rosaline!”

Winslow chuckled. “I haven’t been in town for a while, so I’m going to claim I didn’t know any better.” He leaned down and kissed Dafne’s cheek.

Rosaline grinned at the mushiness, genuinely happy for them. And only the tiniest bit jealous that she didn’t have Bryson here so she could have someone to cuddle up to as well. Okay, so maybe more than the tiniest bit. “Did you talk to Bryson at all today? He didn’t happen to say if maybe he was…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I know he’s not coming.”

“I thought he might,” Winslow said. “He even got dressed up. But he was watching TV when I left, and when I asked if he was coming…” He offered her a consoling smile, which made it clear exactly what his answer had been.

The truth stung, a dozen needles pricking her heart, but she did her best not to let it show. “Right. Well, I’m going to go hang out with my friends. Let you guys have your space.”

Taking deep breaths so she didn’t do something stupid like burst into tears, she made her way back to the spot Leanne and the rest of the gang had claimed. Too late, she noticed Sam was the only one there, and she cursed herself for not checking before making her way over—unfortunately all her energy had been tied up in the not-crying thing.

“Hi,” she said, deciding not talking made it more awkward. Keeping quiet had never been her strong suit anyway.

“Hey.” Sam crossed his arms, his gaze focused on the floor. Then he suddenly turned to her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since she’d told him she couldn’t date him anymore. “This is ridiculous. We’re wasting perfectly good song.”

“If that’s your way of hinting that you want me to ask you to dance, I’ll take the bait.”

Sam put his hand on her back and led her to the floor. They assumed the usual position, only they kept more space between them than they had all the times they’d danced together at Weekends. The sun had set, and glowing globes of light hung on strings along the edge of the dance floor. Luckily, a fast song was playing, one that required lots of spinning and little talking.

At the end of the song, she and Sam headed for their designated standing spot. Rosaline stopped short, nearly tripping over her feet for the second time that night when she spotted the familiar figure near the back of the crowd. Hardly any light shone on him, but the posture, the hair, the way her heart sped up and her breath lodged in her throat—this time, it was him.

“I’ll see you later,” Sam mumbled, nodding at her and then backing away.

She was sure people were still talking and dancing—that time hadn’t stopped just for her and Bryson—but his presence consumed her, leaving her unable to focus on anything else.

He didn’t have his cane, and as he came toward her, his limp was more pronounced. When he reached her, he glanced around and whispered, “Everyone’s staring.”

She took in how nice he looked all dressed up. The way his blue eyes stood out, catching the lights of the dance floor. “I’m having trouble not staring myself.”

He shook his hair off his face. “So, am I too late?” His eyes locked onto hers. “Did someone else already sweep you off your feet?”

She lifted her arms. “Sweep away.”

He drew her to him, his embrace familiar and new all at the same time.

He was warm and solid and smelled like Bryson. She clung on to him as tightly as she could, wanting the reassurance he really was here. “You came,” she whispered, pulling back to get another look at his face. “I can’t believe you came.”

“Well, I kissed this hot chick this morning, and it’s all I could think about all day.”

Rosaline smiled, happiness blazing a trail through her veins and setting up residence in her heart. “It was the boots, wasn’t it? I heard Arkansas guys can’t resist a girl in boots.”

Bryson’s gaze dropped to her boots and then slowly ran back up her. “More like the legs in the boots. And the hair, and the smile, and”—he wrapped his arms tighter around her, eradicating the tiny bit of space between them—“just you.”

Rosaline tipped onto her toes and kissed him, not caring how many people were staring. When he deepened the kiss, she sank into his embrace, basking in the fuzzy daydream-like feeling of it all.

A slow song started, and she tugged Bryson toward the floor. He held her close as they swayed to the music. She leaned her head on his shoulder, overwhelming happiness making her feel all light and floaty.

As the song came to a close, he spun her out, brought her back in, and kissed her. She smiled against his lips, searching them out again as he started to pull back. Luckily, it didn’t take much convincing for him to draw out the kiss a little longer. One press, then two, three…
Most perfect moment ever.

Hand in hand, they left the dance floor. People continued to stare, but she could hardly bring herself to care. All that mattered was Bryson was here with her. He was here and they were holding hands and everything was right with the world.

She tilted her head toward the flashing lights of the carnival grounds. “Will you take me on the Ferris wheel? I’ve always wanted to ride one.”

“Baby, I’ll take you on any ride you want.” He leaned in, his lips nearing hers again.

“Rosaline!” Dafne pushed through the crowd. Her face was pale, and her eyes were glossy with tears. “Your parents just called. Cousin Ty…” Her chin trembled. “He was killed earlier today.”

Cold spread through Rosaline’s chest, claiming another inch with each passing second. “Killed?”

“Shot in the street.” Dafne brought her hands to her mouth. “By Romeo Montague.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rosaline leaned into Bryson, her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a mistake.

“We’re going to have to fly to Verona tomorrow, and there will be a funeral and…” Dafne looked like she was about to tip over herself. Rosaline stepped forward and hugged her. For a moment, they stood there, holding each other as the sorrow washed over them.

Dafne dug the keys out of her pocket. Her hands shook, rattling the metal pieces together.

Winslow took them out of her hand. “I’ll take you home and help you make arrangements for the flights.”

“I’ll ride with Bryson.” Rosaline glanced at him. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home.”

Behind them the music continued, and people went on dancing and chatting. Crazy how something so life-changing had happened and the rest of the word didn’t even notice.

Getting in Bryson’s truck, driving out of town—they were all things that seemed far away, like an untouchable but very bad dream. One minute blurred to the next, and still she sat there, trying to process the news.

Bryson punched off the truck’s stereo and then reached over and wrapped her hand in his. “How you holding up? I know Ty was your cousin, but you also have history with Romeo.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. I know Ty was a bit of a bully and hard to get along with, but I never would’ve thought…” She exhaled a shaky breath. “There was this one day freshman year that Clara was absent and I had to walk home alone. These guys were following me, taunting me and saying nasty things.”

She remembered that day, how scared and helpless she’d felt. “Then they surrounded me, and I didn’t know what to do. Ty and a couple of his guys showed up. He told them that I was his cousin, and if they ever messed with me again, they’d be sorry. After that, they not only didn’t bother me but also made sure no one else did. I never felt scared walking home again.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of all the times she’d hung out with Ty at family gatherings. She squeezed her eyes closed against the pain, trying to get her emotions under control. “He and Romeo have always hated each other. All because our families had some stupid fight generations ago, each one thinking the other screwed them over. The families have been sworn enemies ever since. It’s why me dating Romeo was such a big deal, and why his dating Juliet is an even bigger deal—their fathers are the family patriarchs.”

Rosaline sat up, sucking in a sharp breath. “Juliet. She was wedding dress shopping a few days ago and now…” She shook her head. “I still can’t see Romeo killing anyone. He’s into poetry, way more a lover than a fighter.”

“Poetry,” Bryson said, like the word tasted disgusting.

“I’m just saying he didn’t seem like the violent type. And according to Clara, he told everyone he wouldn’t fight Ty because of the way he felt about Juliet.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease her oncoming headache.

Bryson pulled the truck up to Dafne’s and cut the engine. Winslow’s Range Rover was already there, and she could make out his and Dafne’s outlines in the kitchen, hunched over the computer.

Rosaline scooted across the truck to Bryson, needing to be next to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, loving the way his arm automatically came around her. For a moment, they sat in silence, listening to the ticking sound of the cooling engine and the occasional cricket.

“Thanks again for coming tonight. You showing up at the dance…” She ran her fingers along his jaw, peering into his blue eyes. “It meant a lot.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, then kissing her softly. Heat wound through her, easing the cold edge of grief digging at her heart.

“I almost forgot,” she said. “I was going to surprise you, but in case I’m not back, I bought us tickets to the Hidden Valley motocross races on Thursday. I thought we could go and you could show me how to yell at the racers.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “That sounds like fun.”

“Only now I might not be back in time, so you should get the mail and use the tickets.”

“I’ll only go if you’re here to go with me.” He laced his fingers with hers. “You are planning on coming back, right?” Vulnerability edged his words and his expression.

“I’ll be back,” she whispered, then pressed her lips to his, reveling in the fact that they kissed now. “I better get in there, check on Dafne, and see if she needs anything.”

Bryson’s phone rang. His eyebrows drew together, and he answered. Then he held the phone out to Rosaline. “It’s for you.”

“Oh my gosh,” Clara said, her voice several octaves higher than usual. “Dafne’s not answering, and I thought I’d try this number since you called from it before. Everything in Verona is falling apart. Ty killed Mercutio, so Romeo killed Ty, and now he’s hiding from the police and people are fighting in the streets.” Her voice quivered. “Just this morning I ran into Ben and Mercutio. We were laughing and talking and”—a loud sob cut off her words—“and now he’s dead.”

Rosaline’s mind swam with the new information. “Clara, I’m so sorry. I heard about Ty. I didn’t know about Mercutio.”

“I ran into your parents and they’re a mess. We need you here. I need you here.”

“I’m coming,” Rosaline said, tears crawling up her throat. “I’m coming home.”

***

As he and Winslow drove away from the airport, Bryson had the sinking feeling he might never see Rosaline again. As they’d said their goodbyes, he’d hugged her, trying to memorize the way she felt in his arms, just in case it was the last time.

Sappy—that was what she’d turned him into. And he didn’t even care.

But he’d heard her friend last night, her words carrying over the line. She’d been frantic, telling Rosaline how much she needed her. Then Rosaline had said she was coming home. Meaning Verona was still home to her.

“She’ll come back,” Winslow said. Bryson must have looked really pathetic if Winslow was trying to console him. Or maybe he was talking about Dafne.

Bryson stared out the window at the blurring scenery. “California beaches and all her friends, or Arkansas? Why would she choose here? Why would
anyone
choose here?”

“We did,” Winslow said, as though that made any difference. Time and time again, Bryson had mentioned moving the company. They could center out of anywhere, and he grew sick of talk of the curse, of old ghosts always haunting him. Winslow had his ghosts, too. But Grandpa Mercer had chosen Lowell. Before Winslow’s dad had built the house, the land had been farmland with a tiny one-story house that shook when the wind blew—so the story went, anyway.

“They don’t have family roots to keep them here. In fact, all their family is in Verona.” Bryson leaned back, a lead weight in his gut. “I was barely living until she came along.”

“We’ve both been checked out of life too long.”

Just when it seemed worth living again, everything came crashing down. Maybe he really was destined to be miserable. Maybe that damn curse was real.

It’d been a long time since he’d prayed, but right then and there, he closed his eyes and prayed with everything he had that Rosaline would come back.

***

Winslow tossed Bryson the keys to his old work truck—the one Dafne had parked in Lowell yesterday—then pulled onto main street and drove away. With Mudtown Days still in full swing, Bryson hoped to get in and out of town unnoticed.

“Well if it isn’t Bryson Mercer,” a female voice said.

So much for going unnoticed.

Grumbling to himself, he turned around. “Leanne Gatwood.”

“I’m surprised you know my name.”

“I knew your brother. Probably wouldn’t have remembered your first name if Rosaline wasn’t always talking about you.”

“Is everything okay with her? She left last night without saying goodbye, and I thought she was going to come help with my jewelry stand today. I tried to call Dafne but—”

“There was a death in the family.” That stupid squeeze thing happened in his chest as he once again pictured Rosaline walking away from him. “Winslow and I dropped her and Dafne off at the airport this morning.”

“That’s too bad. I’ll have to tell my mama. Have her send some jams or something.” Leanne leaned against the truck’s fender. “So, you and Rosaline. I don’t know if I would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes last night. I thought she and Sam Webster were a sure bet till she started talking ‘bout you all the time.”

“I would’ve put my money on Sam Webster, too,” Bryson said.

Leanne smiled at that, and it was such a warm smile, he couldn’t help returning it. “That means you’re gonna have to start showing your face ‘round here more often. She’ll need someone to pick her up from school, go to the ballgames, bring her to Weekends so I can still see her.” She tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear. “This is me subtly hinting that I’ll be mad if I don’t get to hang out with her anymore.”

“Very subtle. And extremely motivating.” Bryson glanced around at all the people milling around booths, most of whom he recognized. At least today they weren’t staring. Probably would be if they realized he was there, though. Could he get back into town life? If Rosaline did go to school here, he’d want to see her. And—if he was being honest—want the other guys to know that she had a boyfriend. “I might come around now and then.”

Leanne gave one sharp nod. “Good.” She reached up and fiddled with her earring. “Rosaline is coming back, right?”

“I hope so.” He gripped the keys in his hands, the metal digging into his palm. “Of course, even if she does, I’ll probably manage to screw things up.”

“You do have that Mercer Curse working against you.” She shot him another smile, then pushed off the fender of his truck. “See you around, Bryson.”

He watched her go, thinking maybe it’d been a mistake to stay out of Lowell.

Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Sluggs, two of the biggest gossips in town came down the sidewalk. Their eyes went wide as they landed on him. They whispered back and forth, casting worried glances his way, like he might use his cane to beat them. They were the same women who swore he was a drug-dealer back when he was in high school. “After all,” they’d whisper in the way people whisper loud enough you can hear them, “he is his mother’s son.”

Bryson climbed into the truck and fired it up. The two women were still staring, mouths running. Then again, maybe he wasn’t ready to jump back into the Lowell life just yet.

Not without Rosaline at his side, anyway.