Boone Murphy stood from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushed nonexistent lint from the jacket of his rented tux, and strode toward the hotel room cabinet that housed a mini fridge—and miniature bottles of liquor.
He wasn’t usually one to crack open a bottle before noon, but today called for—celebration? Liquid courage?
He already had a tiny bottle of rum in his hand when a knock sounded on the door.
“Just a sec,” he called, then grabbed the bottle of vodka as well.
He checked his watch, the timer set to go off fifteen minutes before he actually had to leave for the ceremony. He still had plenty of time. So who was already checking up on him, making sure he didn’t mess up like he’d done so many times before?
“Keep yourself on a schedule,” his therapist had told him. “But one that always puts you ahead of schedule. You’ll never be penalized for being early.”
Setting timers and reminders hadn’t been easy at first. He was a small-town man used to the way time flowed in small-town life. Folks in Meadow Valley didn’t live by the clock. They lived by a certain rhythm only they knew. But Boone Murphy had never been able to sync to that rhythm. And it had taken him years to figure out why.
Another knock, this one louder than before.
“All right already!” he called out, irritation evident in his tone. “I said I was coming.”
Boone finally opened the door to find a slightly older version of himself—his brother Eli—staring back at him. The same light-blue eyes and dark-brown hair, but Eli’s already had a few strands of silver here and there, despite him being barely thirty-five. Boone guessed being a widower could do that to a man. He’d experienced loss himself, but nothing the likes of what Eli had gone through. Yet here was his big brother, wearing a tux and smiling back at Boone with that knowing look.
“Is one of those for me?” Eli asked. “Or does the groom need extra courage?”
“Sorry,” Boone told him. “I thought you were… I don’t know. Old habits, I guess.” He held up both the bottles. “Take your pick. There’s more in the cabinet.”
Eli grabbed the vodka. “Since I’m not a pirate,” he said, then made his way into the room, letting the door close behind him.
Boone chuckled, and the two brothers sat down side by side on the foot of the hotel bed.
“Cheers.” Eli held up his tiny bottle, and Boone clinked his own against it. “Should I make a toast or save that for the reception?”
Boone had already twisted the cap off his bottle and pressed it to his lips, but he paused.
“Depends,” he mused. “Would you say the same thing now that you’re planning on saying then?”
Eli scrubbed a hand across his clean-shaven jaw. Boone thought it was good to see his brother like this—smiling and making small jokes. If this weekend proved anything, it was that getting Eli Murphy out of Meadow Valley—even if only for a day or two—was good for the man’s soul. On that much, Boone could relate. For the last twelve years, he’d been unable to separate his present from the past. That was what happened when you lived your whole life in one place with the same people, day in and day out. The past was always there, reminding him. Haunting him.
So he was getting out for good.
“How about I give you the abbreviated version of both?” Eli replied but didn’t wait for Boone to respond. He held his bottle up high and proceeded. “To Boone and Elizabeth. I wish you both a lifetime of love and happiness, to remember that even when you might not like each other, the love that lies beneath it all should remind you of what you have—what you’re lucky enough to have found while so many are still looking.” He raised his brows. “Eh? What do you think?”
Boone swallowed, unprepared for how his brother’s words would hit him. Not because he didn’t like—or even love—Elizabeth. But because those words made him think of someone else entirely instead of the woman he was hours away from marrying.
He cleared his throat. “That was…um…really good.”
“Thanks,” Eli said, a seldom seen grin on his face. “Want to know what I’d say now?”
Boone wasn’t so sure anymore, but he nodded once.
Again, Eli lifted his miniature bottle. “To my brother Boone. I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness. But sometimes that whole life part has other plans. And when those other plans unfold…shit. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do. But I do know this. Whoever you choose as your partner through all of it—especially if you’re a lucky enough son of a bitch for her to choose you right back—make sure it’s someone who not only loves you at your best but can also still find that hidden ray of light when you’re at your worst. That’s when you know, you know?”
This time, there was no brow raise or smug grin. Eli simply twisted the cap off his bottle of vodka and swallowed it all in two long swigs, not bothering to make eye contact with his brother. Eli was somewhere else now, thinking about Tess, he was sure. But Boone was right here, hours outside Meadow Valley, yet his present still collided with the past.
His throat burned, and his palms began to sweat. So he followed his brother’s lead, downing his tiny bottle of rum and running through all the decisions he’d made in his life that had brought him to this point.
“I love her,” Boone told him. “Elizabeth, I mean.” Though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince now, Eli or himself.
“I know,” Eli said. The two men stared straight ahead rather than looking at one another. “And I’m not saying that we only get one great love, even if that might be what it was for me.” He paused for a beat. “But does she love you at your highest high? And your lowest low? Is that how you love her?”
He tipped the bottle to his lips again, even though it was empty. It was a sign that the conversation was over, that Eli wasn’t looking for Boone to answer him out loud.
But Boone had to answer to someone, even if it was only himself.
“Did you at least talk to her before leaving town?” Eli asked, surprising Boone by not only continuing their conversation but by butting up against the one topic Boone wasn’t willing to approach.
“Eli, you promised…” Boone started.
But Eli shook his head. “I did no such thing. Maybe you thought we had some sort of silent agreement, but on that front, Little Brother, you are sorely mistaken. If you wanted someone here who would simply toast your good cheer and call it a day, you’d have invited Ash.”
Boone let out a bitter laugh. “The guy hasn’t had a permanent address in years. Wasn’t like I could send him an invitation. Sent him plenty of texts, though. No reply, of course.”
Eli sighed. Their youngest brother, Ashton, had been the pride and joy of Meadow Valley when his country music career took off not too long after high school. Now he was more infamous than famous, constantly showing up on tabloid websites in one scandal after another. It had been at least a year since Eli or Boone had heard from him directly, but despite the strain on their relationship with him, Boone had wanted both his brothers here today.
“You gonna answer the question?” Eli asked. “Or should I take your silence as a no?”
Boone stood and headed for the minibar again. This time, he grabbed the tiny tequila and Jack Daniel’s, tossing his brother the former. Eli caught it in one hand.
“She knows, okay?” Boone insisted, opening his bottle where he stood. “There’s nothing that happens in Meadow Valley that Casey Walsh doesn’t know. That’s the beauty of being everyone’s favorite barkeep. You don’t miss a beat when it comes to the happenings of small-town life.”
So no, he hadn’t told Casey Walsh, the onetime love of his life turned what? Enemy? Acquaintance? He’d have preferred the former. Then at least there would still be something between them. But Casey’s animosity for him had simmered years ago so that now she barely gave him a glance, and that stung more than her hating him.
“She’s not going to burst onto the scene and object to the wedding if that’s what you’re hoping,” Eli said, unscrewing his second small bottle and downing its contents in one swift gulp.
“I wasn’t—I mean, I know she’s not going to… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Boone stammered. But hell, had his brother hit the nail on the head?
Boone hadn’t thought that was his grand plan, but was it? Was this all one big bluff to reopen the wounds of the past and finally put things right?
He huffed out a laugh, opened his own bottle, and emptied it into his mouth. Warmth spread through him, as did an unexpected calm.
“I’m getting married,” he affirmed with renewed certainty. “I’m getting married and starting over, something I should have done years ago.”
Years ago when he’d still hoped—when he’d still believed that eventually, if he waited long enough, Casey would come around. But he was done waiting for a life that would never happen and instead grabbing hold of a new beginning. Boone Murphy had punished himself long enough. Didn’t he deserve some semblance of happiness by now?
Eli looked at his watch, then back up at Boone where he still stood by the minibar.
“Then why are we emptying the minibar before we’re even close to seeing a p.m. on the clock?”
Boone’s head swam as he stood on the sun-washed hill overlooking Carson City, Nevada. He should have been cold in nothing but his tux in the crisp November air, but instead he felt sort of…numb. He was happy for the small ceremony and reception, that his bride-to-be had been more about getting married as soon as he put a ring on her finger than she was about planning a big, fancy affair. Yet he couldn’t look out at the guests. Not yet. Instead, he set his sights on the other side of the hill—the snowy land sprawling out before him, a reminder of the horse ranch where he, Eli, and Ash grew up.
But the ranch was no more. Nor was the reputation he’d built as Plumas County’s best mechanic. He wasn’t that far from Meadow Valley. Not yet. But from here, he and Elizabeth would travel south to Los Angeles. Los. Angeles. She’d just been offered a great position at a high-profile real estate firm, and after their honeymoon in Hawaii—he’d have preferred camping in Yosemite, but camping wasn’t Elizabeth’s thing—they’d be relocating to the City of Angels.
“It’s starting,” Eli said, striding up beside his brother. As if that was the string quartet’s cue, Canon in D rang out through the crisp late-autumn air. When Boone turned to face their guests and caught a glimpse of the bride on the other end of the snow-sprinkled aisle, everything shifted into place, and he knew.