How to Rope a Real Man (10 page)

Kellan tipped back in his chair, his expression distant, his smile fond, as though he were picturing the memory like a movie in his head. “I forgot about that.”

Jake swiveled to look at Kellan over the paper. For the first time, Matt could see in his face a tinge of kidlike vulnerability. “I didn’t forget.”

Kellan held Jake’s gaze and offered a nod full of apology and regret. Jenna braced a hand on Matt’s knee. Matt went completely still. He rolled his eyes to their point of contact and curled his fingers into the table to keep from covering her hand with his like he was desperate to.

And then Jake did the most amazing thing. With a smile, he reached over and squeezed Kellan’s shoulder. It was as though the whole room let out a collective exhale. Or maybe it was only Matt and Jenna.

Jake turned forward again, his hand still on Kellan’s shoulder. “I worshipped my big brother. He was three years older than me and always the coolest kid on the block. And here he is today, a real, honest-to-God cowboy with a great life and a great woman to share it with.” He silently read the next lines, then leaned into the mic for the punch line that he, Jenna, and Matt had spent a solid half hour crafting. “But Kellan, there will always be one way I’m cooler than you. You might’ve grown up to be a cowboy, but I’m the one who gets to carry a gun and catch the robbers.”

The whole place burst into cheers. He flashed a pleased smile at the crowd, then at Kellan. When the din subsided, he let go of Kellan’s shoulder and gripped the paper hard, concentrating. “Uh . . . where was I? Oh! One thing I’ve learned since the days he and I played make-believe is that life is all about change—some good, some bad. You learn to go with the flow of jobs, apartments, and people in and out of your life. That is, until you find that special someone you can’t imagine giving up, no matter what changes life brings.”

Matt had written the end of the speech and, though he wasn’t usually boastful, he had to admit it had come out damn good.

Jake lifted his champagne glass. It wasn’t written into the speech, so Matt took it as a sign that he was relaxing into the idea of being in the spotlight. “It reminds me of a quote I once heard.”
About five hours ago
. “True love is not about finding a person you can live with, it’s about finding the person you can’t live without. I think we can all agree that my brother has found that person in Amy. Cheers to the happy couple.”

Amid the
awww
s and claps of the crowd, Jake was treated to a gigantic bear hug from Kellan.

The quote was one Matt had heard at a wedding once. He remembered it because then, as now, it had filled him with so much frustration that he couldn’t look anyone in the eye lest he give himself away. That was what he wanted. To be the person a woman couldn’t live without. What would it be like to be so wanted that a woman would be unwilling to live without him, despite his flaws and damage?

Jenna leaned into him again, her champagne flute up in a request to clink glasses with him. “Nice work, speechwriter.”

He shook off his darkness and raised his glass, touching it to hers. “Don’t leave yourself out of the credit. You were the one who pulled that childhood story out of him.”

“I never once, in my wildest dreams, thought I’d need to write a best man’s speech, but we didn’t do too shabby.”

He sipped the champagne, then said, “When it all came down to it, you threw your sister the best, most perfect wedding Catcher Creek has ever seen. Kudos.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The DJ took the mic from where Jake had set it and directed the crowd to gather for the first dance. While people stood and moseyed to the edge of the square, Kellan broke from the kiss he’d been laying on Amy. He got the DJ’s attention, then took the mic.

“Before Amy and I get started on our dance, I’d like to say a few words. I wasn’t planning to, because, uh, public speaking isn’t my strong suit. But here it goes. I’d like to thank you all for joining Amy and me on our big night. We appreciate it. I’d like to give a special shout-out to three people who made this all possible: Matt Roenick and Tara Weiss for stepping in at the last minute with all these beautiful flower arrangements, and most of all, my new sister-in-law, Jenna Sorentino, who planned today down to the last detail. Thank you, Jenna, for everything. I love you and I’m really honored to call you my family.”

Jenna covered her heart with both hands and smiled at Kellan, misty-eyed.

After the applause died down, he continued. “With everybody Amy and I love in one place, we’re moved to share our big news with you and kick this celebration up another notch.” He took Amy’s hand and pulled her into an easy embrace. “We found out this morning that Amy’s pregnant.”

Matt flinched as his insides quaked.
Double whammy.
It was hard enough watching one person after another in his life get hitched
.
He hadn’t seen that second blow coming. Working hard to keep a neutral smile on his face, he joined the rest of the reception guests in clapping.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Jenna asked, beaming at him.

He nodded, but couldn’t muster the strength to look her in the eye.

Always a groomsman, never a groom
was exactly the kind of self-pitying muck he’d disavowed after the last of his siblings wed. He resented the bitterness that crept through him like a blood-borne poison with each of his friends’ and family members’ joyous milestones. He hated feeling like a whiny asshole because he couldn’t have what he most wanted in life.

First-world problem. Get over yourself. You’ve got money, a life full of family and friends, and your health.

Hell, if he were really trying to get some perspective, he’d focus on being grateful for clean drinking water and freedom of speech. But it was hard to stay focused on gratitude for the many blessings he already had when every other week he was invited to wedding after wedding, first birthday parties and brisses, bar mitzvahs, and school talent shows for his nieces or nephews.

Geez, he knew a lot of happy couples with kids.

Choking back a sardonic bark of laughter, he watched Kellan and Amy take the dance floor for their first dance as newlyweds and fantasized about snapping his champagne flute in half. Something a nice guy like him would never do.

The thing of it was, he was tired of being nice. He was tired of smiling and saying
congratulations
. Tired of the private shame that came with being jealous of other people’s happiness.

What he needed right now was to get some air.

“Excuse me,” he muttered to no one in particular. He twisted his way through the crowd toward the exit. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see his dad.

“Are you okay?”

Just great. His dad had sought him out to check in with him because of the pregnancy announcement. That was another thing he was sick and tired of—his parents’ pity. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and stop himself from confessing to them how every new baby announcement hit him like a fresh trauma. A cruel reminder of his defectiveness as a man.

But he’d had to tell them because they weren’t getting what it was like to be surrounded by his ridiculously fertile brothers and sisters. Or what it did to him inside when some unsuspecting member of their extended family would joke,
Just you wait until you’re a father. Then you’ll know what I’m talking about.

He’d had to explain to his dad why he went hunting every year instead of attending the family’s Father’s Day barbecue.

“I’m fine.” Though he kept his eyes locked on the dancing couple, in his periphery he watched his dad swab a hand over his mouth.

“Look, son, the way modern medicine is changing so fast, it’s only a matter of time before the scientists and doctors figure out how to—”

Matt gripped the champagne flute harder. “Stop, Dad. Please.”

“You can always adopt.”

That’s what they all said, his family. And they were right. He could adopt. But that option added a whole new dimension to the vicious cycle of hope and loss he’d experienced over and over. What if he fell in love with a baby and something went wrong with the paperwork? What if the birth mother changed her mind? He wasn’t sure he was made of strong enough stuff to survive any more dashed dreams of fatherhood.

He couldn’t stand there any longer under his father’s watchful, pitying scrutiny, surrounded by hope and happiness. With a smile as brittle as his self-control, he put his back to the dance floor and started walking. His dad made to follow.

Matt held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I need some space.”

Dad nodded and stopped midstride.

Matt lowered his eyes to the ground, rolled his shoulders back, and kept moving as the DJ invited the rest of the wedding party to join the bride and groom. Damn it, all evening he’d been looking forward to dancing with Jenna. It was the one way he could be close to her without risking himself.

Missing this dance meant one of the bridesmaids would be left without a partner, but he couldn’t face his friends right now. Someone was bound to see through his façade, Jenna or Kellan most likely, and he wasn’t willing to taint everyone else’s fun with his personal pain.

He couldn’t get his hand to uncurl from around the flute so he carried it with him out of the room and through the lobby doors.

Smokers stood in clusters around the planter boxes out front. He barreled past them, to the shadows on the side of the building, his stride lengthening as he neared the Dumpsters and cinder-block wall surrounding the parking lot.

Anger lit his nerves like a fuse. Winding back, he growled as he launched the flute at the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash that went a long way toward diffusing his rage.

He braced his hands on his knees and sucked in deep gulps of air. The grief was sharp tonight, even more so than in the days following his diagnosis. Sharp and raw in a way that had caught him off guard.

“Guess you really hated that champagne, huh?”

Matt startled and spun in the direction of the voice.

A man, bigger than him, slouched against the chain-link fence enclosing the Dumpsters, his hands wedged in his jeans pockets and his clunky, black work boots crossed at the ankles. He was as big as Jake, but less beefy, and while Jake gave off a vibe that he was pissed off at life in general, this man had the same look as the bullies Matt had feared growing up, the type who had taken pleasure in beating up the scrawny Jewish kid in glasses.

But Matt wasn’t scrawny anymore, not by a long shot, and he’d donated the glasses to charity after laser surgery had fixed his eyes. He could take on a knuckle-dragger like this guy any day of the week and might even best him.

Matt took a few careful steps back. Not because he was intimidated, but to better size the man up. “Rough night,” he said by way of explanation.

“Yeah, I’m having one of those myself.” The man pushed away from the wall and into a swath of light that gave Matt a good look at his high-and-tight haircut.

A soldier, younger than Matt by a few years, if he had to guess. And judging by the Semper Fi tattoo below the sleeve of his gray T-shirt, a Marine.

All the fight drained out of Matt. He was tough, but he was also smart enough to know he probably couldn’t best an active-duty Marine in a brawl.

The Marine nodded toward the building. “How’s the reception going? Sounds like a typical Catcher Creek party.” It was said sarcastically, like he’d long outgrown his countrified roots.

A conversation with a jaded soldier wasn’t exactly what Matt had expected when he’d stormed outside, but it only took a second for him to decide to roll with it. He ignored the sarcasm and instead offered a genuine answer, which was more his style. “Reception’s going great. Everyone’s having a lot of fun.”

“Oh, yeah, I can tell. That’s how come you’re out here smashing glass. What, were you in love with the bride or something? ’Cause if that’s the case, you’ll need to rein it in before Kellan Reed kicks your ass to Mexico.”

Hearing Kellan’s name had Matt doing another about-face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself. Matt Roenick. I don’t remember you from the wedding.”

The Marine took his offered hand in a firm shake. “That’s because I dodged out at the last minute. Carson Parrish, but my friends call me Lynch.”

Parrish
rang a bell, but Matt couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. Then again, he only knew perhaps a quarter of the wedding guests by face and even fewer by name. “How do you know Kellan?”

Lynch shrugged. “From way back. My family owns the only feed and grain store in Catcher Creek, so I got an invitation by default even though I haven’t been in this town for going on six years.” There was venom in his tone, like he and his demons hadn’t done the water-under-the-bridge thing yet. “Never RSVP’d, and I’m sure no one expected me to actually show up, but I’m assuming my whole family is inside that building right now doing the YMCA or whatever stupid dance the DJ’s calling.”

“You’re not sure if your family’s here or not?” It was a prying question, but Matt couldn’t get a read on the guy’s motives for lurking outside the building.

His expression cracked into a hard smile. “I wanted to surprise people, but I think I’ll save it for another day. It’s weird, coming home after being gone so long, like I don’t belong. I’m not the same person I was when I left, so I didn’t expect all the old shit to come rushing back at me like it has.” He squinted into the darkness. “I need more time to get my bearings before I do what I came here to.”

Matt nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.” That was no lie. He knew all about feeling like an outcast around the people and places you grew up—different, defective. And he knew a hell of a lot about how all your old shit could slap you upside the head when you least expected it, hence tonight’s broken champagne flute.

The difference between him and this Lynch guy was that while Matt worked really hard to stay positive, Lynch had a world-weary edge to him. Like he’d seen and done too much in his life to appreciate the beauty of the world anymore. Like the best parts of himself had been defeated.