The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(96)

He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. And when he turned back to Caitlin without a word to her, her smile faded.

Caitlin offered Walker her nearly empty bottle of champagne. “I know it’s really annoying to be around a very slightly tipsy person if you’re not imbibing, so—”

“Do you want to know what’s really annoying?” he asked, not taking the bottle. “When you have to tell two hundred strangers expecting a wedding that the bride went AWOL.”

“I just married myself to myself.”

“Congratulations,” he said, sounding unimpressed.

Caitlin frowned. “That’s your mad voice.”

He blew out a breath. “I didn’t know where either of you were, if you were okay.” He paused and looked right into Maze’s eyes. “Or if I’d ever hear from you again.”

“Cat texted you,” Maze said.

“No, she didn’t.”

Maze looked at Cat.

Cat gasped. “Oh my God. I forgot to text you and Heather! I’m so sorry!” And then she burst into tears.

Maze didn’t cry. She was . . . stunned. Shaken. Guilty. Because Walker overreacting wasn’t Caitlin’s fault. It was hers. She was the one who’d left him behind all those years before, and she was starting to get that he’d believed she was doing a wash and repeat here today. That she’d walked away from him. “Walk—”

Sending her a fulminating look, he turned his back on her and crouched down at Caitlin’s side. “Don’t cry, Cat.”

“But you’re mad at me,” she sobbed. “You think I made a rash decision.”

“No,” he said. “The rash decision was to go through with this when your instincts told you not to. And then to run away from the problem, which isn’t like you.” Again, he was looking right at Maze, and you know what? She was starting to get pissed off.

Cat dropped her forehead to Walker’s shoulder. “I panicked.”

“Love makes us stupid,” Walker said.

Cat choked out a laugh and sniffed.

“Did you just wipe your face on my shirt?”

“Yes,” she said soggily. “I ruined my life!”

He sighed and ran a hand up and down her back, pressing his jaw to the top of her head. “No, you didn’t. You protected it. It’s going to be okay, Cat. You know that, right? It’s all going to be okay.”

Watching him comfort Cat gave Maze a pang so deep it hurt her soul. It wasn’t jealousy. She wasn’t worried that Cat and Walker would take up with each other. Their bond was as family, and it was real.

The pang was . . . yearning. Because she could only wish love came as easily to her as it did for them. Watching them, listening to Walker talk to Cat in that low, steady voice of his, reassuring her . . . she wished she could be more like that, so sure and steady in his feelings, not ashamed of having emotions, and certainly not willing to bury them.

So. There she had it. She was jealous after all. Jealous of their ability to be human, to believe in love blindly.

Caitlin finally lifted her head and sniffed. “What did Dillon’s mom say? Did she freak out? Did she take all the roses home with her?”

“I was too busy worrying about you two to notice anything else. If you were okay or”—again he looked at Maze—“ever coming back.”

Caitlin looked at Maze and grimaced. “Okay . . .” She pushed to her feet. “I think that’s my cue to give you two a moment to talk. I’ll get an Uber.”

“Jace is in the parking lot waiting to drive you home,” Walker said.

“I don’t wanna go home,” Cat said. “I want to go to the Whiskey River and celebrate marrying myself.”

“Jace will drive you wherever you want to go,” Walker said.

Cat bent and kissed the top of his head, then staggered off, holding up the tattered hem of the bridesmaid dress like she was royalty.

Awkward silence descended.

Maze tried to wait Walker out, but waiting had never been her strong suit. “So . . .”

Walker said nothing.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” she finally asked.

“I hope you know what you did today,” he said. “Because even though I don’t think Dillon’s the one for Caitlin, when she sobers up, she may never forgive you.”

“Wait.” Maze shook her head. “Back the hell up. You think this is my bad?”

He just looked at her.

“Wow. Okay.” She stood up to walk away, but was apparently unable to help herself from getting the last word. “I wasn’t the instigator on this.”

“You’re always the instigator, Maze.”

She let out an exhalation of stunned breath, hurt to the core. “Good to know what you really think of me.”

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. You blow everything up and then don’t even seem to realize the damage you leave in your wake because you’re already gone, while the rest of us are left to pick up the pieces.”

She nodded. “And . . . we’re no longer talking about the wedding.”

“Depends on which wedding you’re referring to.”

Another direct hit. She’d worked hard to change, and she’d thought she’d proven it. But he still saw her as that destructive girl she’d once been. “I’m no longer Mayhem Maze,” she said quietly. “I thought you knew that.”