Bentley steps forward, extending a hand. Even when I’m sure he doesn’t want to be, he’s respectful.
My mother’s lips press into a thin line, but she takes his hand. Her eyes flicker over him—his broad shoulders, the faint scar above his brow, the quiet strength in his posture. I can practically see the questions forming behind her sharp gaze.
“Bentley,” she finally acknowledges, her tone cool. “I wasn’t aware my daughter was… traveling with company. She seems to have met you in ourveryshort time of coming to this quaint town.”
I stiffen, my hands pausing over my clothes. Of course, she’d phrase it like that—as if I’m being impulsive for bringing a man who’s somehow taking my heart without knowing.
Bentley doesn’t flinch. Instead, his face relaxes. “I hope it’s not an inconvenience. Your daughter means a lot to me. I wanted to make sure she was safe.”
Safe. The word lingers in the air, heavy with meaning. My mother’s expression flickers—just for a second—before her mask slips back into place.
“I’m missing my makeup bag.” Looking around the room, I don’t see it. I’m sure Delilah doesn’t have it.
My mother’s smile grows tight. “The bathroom, dear. It’s where you left it. That can wait a moment, can’t it? We need to talk.”
I don’t want to. I tell her that, too, and the impatient sigh that leaves her makes my feet heavy. Like my body is so used tofollowing along with what makes her happy that I don’t move to collect the last of my belongings.
Bentley must be a mind reader, because he’s turning toward the bathroom. Without a word, he moves toward the smaller room so he can grab the last of my belongings, so we can get out of here.
My mother wastes no time standing to approach me. Knowing she wants to scold me for embarrassing her, she doesn’t waste her time addressing it while we’re alone. Instead, she’s looking toward the bathroom.
“Josie,” she murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. “Is this really what you plan to do after everything I’ve done for you? To disappear with some man who looks like he just walked out of the woods?”
And there it is.
The words are meant to cut. To make me second-guess. Instead, all they do is make me burn.
Bentley is rough around the edges. He’s the kind of man who carries a knife far too big and knows how to use it, who’s probably never set foot in a gala in his life. But he’s also the man who held me like I was something precious last night. Who didn’t ask for a single thing in return. Who’s still here, even with my mother’s disdain dripping from the walls.
Just like that, something in me clicks.
“Yes,” I say, turning back to my mother. My voice doesn’t waver. “It is. But it’s not because of you. I’m leaving with him forme.”
For the first time in my life, I don’t try to impress her. In return, I watch her flinch.
Bentley returns, confusion in his eyes as he stares at my bag. “Is this it?”
My smile returns. “That’s the one. Now, why don’t we get out of here before more people start to show up?”
Turning to leave, I’m ready to sprint out of this place.
“You’re really just going to leave?” Her voice is sharp, laced with disbelief—as if she expected me to fold, to apologize, to fall back into old patterns.
I pause, my fingers brushing the doorknob. For years, I would have. For years, I twisted myself into whatever shape she wanted, just to earn a scrap of approval. But not today.
“Yeah,” I say, finally looking back at her. “I am.”
Her face tightens, something flickering in her eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration. But for the first time, I don’t care. I don’t scramble to fix it.
I leave and don’t think about turning back.
Funny enough, maybe the drama happening between my mother and me may get more bites than my disaster of a wedding.
* * *
The engine hums low as we finally leave the chaos behind. The police had helped shake off the last of the prying eyes, and now, the only thing chasing us is what looks to be clear skies after the hellish weather the day before.
Bentley eases the truck to a stop on the shoulder of a quiet back road, the tires crunching over loose gravel. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak—just grips the wheel, his knuckles whitening before he finally turns to me.
