Love is said to be painful, which is why Breanna can no longer hold back her secret. Even if it will destroy her friendships and turn her town against her.
Welcome to the small town of Holiday, Alabama, population 765. In Holiday everyone knows their neighbors—and their business . . .
Annabelle, Breanna, and Carson have been best friends for over two decades. On the eve of Anna and Carson’s wedding, Bree shares a secret, and she and Carson embark on a journey that will break hearts and rock the town, where the biggest news is usually the size of the trout pulled from the harbor.
But the force of the river running through Holiday is nothing compared to that of its citizens, whether they’re holding a grudge, or standing behind someone. With both hearts and lives on the line, Breanna and Carson’s love story becomes a true Holiday affair.
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Sneak Peak- Read the 1st Chapter Below
Chapter One
“Bree? Hello?” Carson pounded on the broken screen door, then pulled it open and stepped over the threshold and onto the worn carpet in the Wagners’ house as he had hundreds of other times over the years. Bree had said she needed to talk to him for only a minute and that she’d meet him on the front porch. Instead, he looked up to see her coming down the stairs, not bounding with her usual enthusiasm and not floating ethereally as she’d seemed to the night he’d taken her to their junior prom when Annabelle had become sick last minute. Anna had encouraged him to take Bree instead and had even lent Bree the dress she’d been planning to wear.
Best friends did things like that.
Anna’s other best friend, and one who happened to also be her boyfriend, didn’t kiss his girlfriend’s bestie in her place, though. Carson hadn’t that night. Though it had been close. He’d wanted to, and remembered that now, watching Bree coming down the stairs again.
That night something had changed for him—for them. It was the beginning of an awareness of each other that hadn’t ever been there before. Or maybe it had, on Bree’s part, anyway. He’d probably been the clueless one, oblivious to her beauty and when and how her girlish figure had turned to womanly curves. He’d never before considered the feminine aroma of her shampoo or perfume or whatever it was she always wore, or how soft and silky the strands of her hair felt, or how he loved her laugh. She’d always been just Bree. Fun and constant. A friend you could count on.
Seeing her that night as she practically floated down the stairs, fabric shimmering all around her, her hair done up in something other than her usual ponytail, and lipstick highlighting her smile, had been like a wake-up call. Breanna wasn’t just the third member of their trio. She was on the verge of womanhood as well, and she was stunning. A potential complication, as Carson adored her as a person already.
It had been wow and uh-oh all in the same breath.
Fortunately, somehow at seventeen, he’d been able to keep his hands and lips where they belonged and keep her solidly in the friend camp all evening. Though slow dancing with her had been its own kind of hell, temptation at his fingertips with the promise of infinite burning if he succumbed.
Too bad he hadn’t been as smart or controlled at twenty-five.
If only kissing was all they’d done that ill-fated weekend before Thanksgiving. Now, looking up at Bree’s pale, tear-stained face as she descended the stairs, he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, like maybe hell was just getting warmed up.
She reached the bottom landing and stopped. Fresh tears filled her eyes and slid down already-wet cheeks, but somehow she produced a trembling smile. “Hello, Carson.”
“Bree?” Instinctively he reached a hand out. Hers flinched on the rail in response, as if it wished for the contact but held back. Carson let his hand fall to his side.
Her stoic smile remained, and she took a shuddering breath.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend your wedding. If you could—if you could let Anna know I’m so sorry.”
His eyes flew to Bree’s.“Let her know—” What? Had she told Anna? What was Bree sorry for? Had she sent Anna a letter? Had—
Bree gave a little shake of her head, as if to let him know their secret was still safe. “Tell her I had an opportunity I had to take, and it couldn’t wait. Tell her I’m sorry I’m not there.”
The relief he should have felt didn’t come.He and Bree had both agreed—that awful morning nearly three months ago—that they would never speak of what had happened between them to anyone. That night had been a mistake. It would only hurt people. It was never going to happen again. All good reasoning and true, but he guessed that Bree, like himself, had been eaten alive with guilt the past weeks, particularly as the wedding—his wedding to their best friend whom they both loved and had betrayed—grew closer.
Carson shifted uneasily from one foot to another. He’d assumed Bree’s request for him to come over for a minute tonight was about decorating the car. As the maid of honor, Bree, along with the best man—his brother Charlie—was in charge of decorating the car during the reception. Carson had set limits to what they could do. He and Annabelle had to drive all the way to the airport in Atlanta, and he didn’t want some tin can or shoe contraption flying off the back of the car on the interstate and causing an accident. He also didn’t want Oreos in the shape of body parts all over the hood—Charlie’s idea. Carson had made them both promise to show him exactly what they’d planned before anything was done.
But now his concerns about the car seemed irrelevant. Bree, leaving? “What opportunity? It couldn’t wait one more day?” Twelve hours? It was after ten now, and the wedding was at ten tomorrow morning.
“I—I can’t be there, Carson. Please don’t ask me to.” Bree’s pretty brown eyes lifted to his in a plea.
“O—kay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a steadying breath of his own. Anna wasn’t going to like this. She wasn’t necessarily going to buy it either. She and Bree were practically sisters.
“Want to tell me why you can’t come?” It’s one day. If he could go through with this and move on, couldn’t Bree handle one day? Then, if she didn’t want to stick around to see him and Anna living as a married couple, he got that. In fact, Bree not being around for a while might be helpful. The very thing he needed to get his marriage off on the right foot—if that was even possible now.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love Anna. He did and had as long as he could remember—since first grade, at least. But they’d spent a lot of time apart the last few years, each completing bachelor’s and then master’s degrees at different universities. That, plus what he’d done and his complicated feelings regarding Bree, could make for a rocky start.
And he really wanted his marriage to succeed. He wanted to be a great husband to Anna, to give her everything she deserved and more. And he was already starting with a huge deficit.
The sick feeling in his gut flared to life again. Dishonesty. Betrayal. Infidelity. All before he even said, “I do.”
“You have to ask why I don’t want to be there?” Bree’s voice held fresh hurt.
“No.” Carson shook his head. “I get it. It’s just that Anna won’t.”
“I know,” Bree whispered. “But what other choice do we have?”
“You could wait to leave just a couple more hours.” He shrugged. This was as close as they’d come to talking about what had happened, tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, the night of intimacy they’d shared, which, ironically, had been the first time for both. His strict religious upbringing as a minister’s son, plus his own small-town, old-fashioned moral code and values had kept him chaste so long. Bree’s values were similar, and no doubt her gun-toting father and brothers had only added to that influence.
Carson’s head snapped up, and he glanced around uneasily, then took a few steps to peer into the living room and at Breanna’s father’s shotgun—one of many—displayed proudly over the stone fireplace.
“They’re hunting,” she said, as if she’d read his mind. “It’s the last weekend for deer.”
“Ah.” This time Carson did feel relief. He pulled his eyes from the sofa and stepped back. Bree’s father and brothers lived for the hunting seasons—all of them, no matter what was being hunted. No doubt they’d shoot him down and stuff and mount his head if they knew what he’d done to her.
Carson turned back to Bree. “How long will you be gone? Where will you be?” He had no right to ask these questions, yet he wanted to know and felt sad—in spite of it all—that she wouldn’t be around. It would never be the three of them together again. Holiday, Alabama’s ABC was as much a thing of the past as the Jackson 5, from whom they’d claimed their theme song.
Nothing would ever be as easy or carefree as their one, two, three again. It hadn’t been for a while, since he and Anna had gone off to college, leaving Bree here alone to take care of her family while she took online classes—the only opportunity available to her.
Now that he and Anna were done with school, Carson hoped to move back here to Holiday. His dad and brother needed him, and Caron wanted his children to have the same rural upbringing he’d had. The pace of life moved a little slower here and felt a little more peaceful than the hectic world outside. Once away, he’d found that he missed the small-town life he’d spent high school complaining about.
But if he had imagined life was going to be similar to their school days, he’d ensured it would not last November, the second he’d crossed the line from seeking comfort in Bree’s arms to sharing passion with her.
Quickly he shuttered the memory from his mind.
She still hadn’t answered his questions. Maybe she wouldn’t. Her eyes were downcast, her fingers curled around the banister as if it were a lifeline. “I just have to get away for a while,” she finally said. “It will be too hard here. Holiday is small. People talk . . .”
About? His eyes flew to Bree’s, flooded with tears now. They held fast to his a long second, a quick-then-slow heartbeat as a horrifying possibility entered his mind.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, then turned to go back up the stairs.
“Sorry for what? Are you—”
“Yes.” She didn’t look back, and her footsteps sped up. “Now you know. Please just go away, Carson.”
Sucker punched, his breath whooshed out, ripped painfully from lungs he thought might never expand again. He reached for the newel post, needing support more than she had. I know? She hadn’t said it exactly, hadn’t voiced the fear they’d both felt that morning. And he didn’t want to hear the specific words from her lips. Heeding her request to go away sounded like the best idea he could think of.
Go away and pretend this conversation never happened. Keep pretending that night never happened. Pretend you never knew Breanna at all.
Impossible. Too many years of friendship between them forbade him from leaving. He’d loved Bree since first grade, too, just in a different way. And he’d already hurt her so much. More than he’d realized—until now.
Still dazed, Carson ran up the stairs, caught Bree, and grabbed her arm. Along with shock he felt a surge of anger. “Are you pregnant? Are you carrying my child?”
“Yes.” She tried pulling away. “I just sai—”
“And you’re just now telling me? The night before my wedding?” He rarely shouted but felt his voice vibrate off the papered walls of the narrow hall.
“No need to tell the neighbors too.”
Carson looked back to see Bree’s great-grandma Fay’s white head at the bottom of the stairs.
“She’s only just found out herself. Yelling won’t help anyone or anything. And it’s not entirely her fault, you know. Takes two to tango.”
“Grandma.” Bree brought a hand to her forehead. She turned her attention to Carson. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I thought it would be better if I left and left you alone. But—”
“I said if she didn’t tell you, I would.” Grandma Fay folded her thin arms across her chest. “And in front of the whole church too.”
“I’m sorry,” Breanna said once more.
“Sorry?” Grandma Fay huffed. “Little late for that. And don’t be sorry you’ve told him. No need to apologize for the truth. No doubt he’ll thank me for it later.”
“No doubt,” Bree and Carson muttered at the exact same time. He would have smiled had the situation not been so grave. Instead his frown deepened as his mind spun through the pages of this disaster.
If only his mother hadn’t died. If only Annabelle had been around when it happened. If only he hadn’t driven to Bree’s house that night. If only she hadn’t been home alone, if her father or one of her brothers had been here with her. If only he hadn’t kissed her.
He’d wanted to talk to someone who would understand. Bree knew what it was to lose a mother. She’d been the perfect person to seek comfort from. If only being enfolded in her arms hadn’t felt quite so good. If only the security they’d offered hadn’t caused him to let his guard down. If only he hadn’t sought more than solace.
Carson loosened his grasp on her arm and slowly slid his hand down to cover hers, still in its death grip on the rickety banister. He asked once more, softer this time. “Where are you going?” With our child. Though he’d known less than five minutes, it seemed real to him already. Another evidence of his upbringing. Life begins at conception.
Bree believed that, too, didn’t she?
“Mississippi. There’s a place I can work and live until the baby is born.”
“And then?” He held in his relief, glad to have kept his mouth shut. Bree would never abort a baby. He shouldn’t have even thought it a possibility. She couldn’t pass up a motherless bird in the yard, a stray dog at the park, or even a turtle on the side of the road. More than a few times in the past she’d insisted that they turn around and rescue some creature or other from certain demise. And a child they’d created was certainly more than a stray animal.
She looked past him, down the stairs toward her eavesdropping great-grandmother. “The family paying for my care will adopt the child.” Her gaze shifted to his, pleading for understanding. “I can’t bring a baby back here to raise on my own. My father would disown me. The whole town would talk. I’d be shunned, and so would that child. And what if it was a boy and he looked like—”
Me. Carson imagined a little boy with his curly hair and blue eyes running around, unaware who his real father—or mother—was. “Have you signed papers or anything?”
Bree shook her head. “No. Not yet. And I suppose you’ll have to as well now, since you know.”
He looked down at his hand covering hers, wondering who was supporting whom. He felt sick enough that he could imagine himself sinking onto the stairs in despair.
Why hadn’t he been more respectful of her as his parents had taught him? What had she been going through these past weeks, while he and Annabelle had been busy planning their wedding? How alone Bree must have felt. How alone he felt suddenly.
Carson lowered himself onto the closest stair and took his head in his hands. What now?
The easy thing to do was to let Bree go, to sign whatever papers he needed to, releasing his child six and a half months from now, to be raised by strangers. My child. Ours. How was he supposed to do that? To pretend this baby never existed?
I can’t. But he couldn’t acknowledge this child and marry Anna too. And Bree . . . She was the one he really needed to consider. It was his fault she was in this mess. Wouldn’t the worst mistake be abandoning Bree to handle this on her own?
Yet if I don’t . . .
I can’t.
But Anna—
He felt like screaming and sobbing all at once. Neither was an option, nor was feeling sorry for himself.
Doing the right thing now, the only thing he could do, was going to mean pain for others. His father was going to be terribly hurt—and embarrassed. And his mother . . . For the first time, Carson had reason to feel gratitude at her passing. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer publicly for his mistake. Anna would, though. And her family too.
This will break her heart. And maybe her mother’s too. How can I do this to her? To them? Carson loved Anna’s family almost as much as he loved Anna. But there was no going back from here.
You’ve made your bed, he imagined his father saying. Carson choked out a grunt, thinking of other things his father was going to say, and things Bree’s father was likely to do.
If this unborn child did end up fatherless . . . It will be because I’m dead.
Carson raised his head slightly. “Your dad’s going to kill me when he finds out.”
“Probably,” Grandma Fay chirped from below.
“He won’t find out,” Bree insisted. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve got to leave tonight. Before they get home.”
Carson had no intention of letting her go to Mississippi or anywhere else alone.
“You mean we’ve got to leave.” He looked back at her. On legs that felt shaky, he rose from the step and faced her again. “I’m not letting you deal with this alone, Bree. And I don’t think we should give our baby away.”
Her disbelieving eyes met his, and he held his gaze steady until he thought he detected what might be a spark of hope.
“I’m not going to desert you, Bree. Your grandmother is right. I’m at least as responsible as you are.
“But Anna—”
“—is the innocent in this and going to be really hurt.” His eyes stung, and his heart physically ached, imagining Anna’s pain. He knew the expression that would cross her face when she found out and could practically hear her gasp of denial and the outbreak of tears. He could see her collapsing in her mother’s arms. The image was nearly enough to break his resolve to do the right thing. It was the hope of not hurting her that had kept his deceit from her until now. And I’ve made everything so much worse.
“It’ll break her heart,” Bree whispered.
“I know.” Carson blinked rapidly to clear his watering eyes. “That can’t be helped now. The only thing to do is try not to make another, worse mistake. We should have told her when it happened, but we didn’t. And now we have to.” He would have had to anyway. He realized that, had known it in his gut for some time. You couldn’t lie to someone and expect to have a loving, trustful relationship.
His wedding day wouldn’t have been the happiest day of his life, but a sham, another knot in the noose of guilt tightening about his throat. And now . . .
Carson glanced at Bree, looking pale and shaken. Her wedding day wasn’t going to be the happiest either. If she’ll even have me.
“Go on and ask her,” Grandma Fay said behind him, as if she’d read his mind.
“We should get married, Breanna.” There was no emotion or sentiment in the suggestion. It was a matter a practicality. They were bringing a child into the world, and that child deserved a mother and a father. A home. A family. Much of America might have a different view, but here in the Deep South, in Holiday, Alabama, that was still the way things were done.
“Talk to him, child,” Grandma Fay coaxed.
“I can’t,” Breanna said, then turned and fled up the stairs. A second later the bathroom door slammed, followed by the sound of retching.
Not the most promising beginning.
* * *
Carson slid the envelope beneath the corner of the cheery flowered welcome mat, then stepped back quickly before his shaking fingers snatched the letter away. This felt like cheating, like making an already-horrible situation worse. At the very least Anna deserved to hear news like this from them personally. But Bree—curled up with a bowl in her lap in the passenger seat of his car—was in no condition to talk. Even worse, he’d seen her dad’s truck come around the corner just seconds after they’d left her house.
Her father wasn’t usually one to come home from a hunt early, so something must be up—hopefully not a premonition about his daughter. Carson had no intention of waiting around to find out. Grandma Fay had not only agreed with his suggestion of marriage—she’d encouraged them to elope and marry quickly, before any other trouble came.
What could be worse? With a heavy heart, Carson trudged down the Lawrences’ manicured walk lined with spring bulbs just beginning to emerge but which, a month from now, would be in full bloom. Never again would he sit on the porch swing with Anna, holding her hand while they drank in the fragrance of her mother’s flower garden. Never again would he help in her parents’ store or enjoy a barbecue in their backyard or watch a game with her dad and brother. Carson loved her family and had been looking forward to calling them his.
A few short hours from now and his name would fall from their lips like a curse. Anna’s dad would see the envelope either on the way to or from his morning run. And that would change everything—for Anna and her whole family. Carson’s world had already shifted drastically—two and a half months ago and especially in the past two hours. Anna was never going to be his wife, and it was all his fault.
At the car he paused and looked back, up to the gabled window of her room, half hoping, half dreading seeing a light on there or her familiar face parting the curtain. When would he even see her again? Would they ever talk again? Would she call him tomorrow and shout at him and cry and tell him what a horrible, faithless cheater he was? It would be worth it to hear her voice just once more. He missed it already. Anna had been a part of his life, his entire life, and imagining living without her felt like leaving a limb behind. How was he supposed to function?
Carson opened the car door and stepped inside without looking over at Bree. His car smelled like vomit, and he wanted nothing so much as to get out of it, but first they had to get out of Holiday.
While Grandma Fay had convinced Bree to this course of action and helped her get the last of her things together, he’d done some searching on his phone and found out that Tennessee was their best bet for a quick wedding. They could get a license tomorrow—no blood test required. There was also no waiting period between the time the license was issued and when a couple could be married. They would just have to find someone willing and able to do it on short notice. Surely something a little well-placed money could arrange, though tomorrow was Valentine’s Day.
He had a little cash in his wallet but would need to stop at a bank and get more. He’d left most of his money, along with the plane tickets and all the vouchers for what was supposed to have been his and Anna’s Caribbean honeymoon, in the envelope on her porch. It was a paltry offering and one he wasn’t sure she’d even take. Who wanted to go on what was supposed to have been a romantic trip with a mother or sister instead of a spouse? He didn’t think he would have, but he wanted Anna to know he wasn’t going to be off having fun either. Yes, he was going to marry Bree, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it, or that Bree was, either, for that matter. But they were going to do right by this child.
Somehow.
Carson held in a sigh as he left Anna’s neighborhood, with its tree-lined streets and charming turn-of-the-century houses. He’d dreamed of owning one of those houses someday and living right here, of giving their children the kind of childhood he and Anna had enjoyed.
A few short miles later he drove onto the bridge, crossed the Magnolia River, and left Holiday behind. Forever? He hoped not. But how could they go back? Bree was right. People would talk. By this time tomorrow, he’d bet every single resident would know what had happened—what he had done.
I’ve hurt my two best friends. The two girls I loved the most. He wasn’t sure how he could ever make this right, for anyone. But he had to try, especially with Bree. That was probably best done with everyone else out of the picture. Using Bree as his excuse, he turned his phone off, then tossed it in the back seat.
She was too fragile to deal with gossip and stares right now. As he’d helped her into the car earlier, he’d realized—with some alarm—that she’d lost quite a bit of weight. It wasn’t like she’d had any to lose to begin with, but Grandma Fay said Bree had been sick for about a month now, unable to keep much of anything down and throwing up even when she hadn’t eaten anything.
How she’d managed to hide that from her father and brothers should have been a mystery, but it wasn’t really. About the only time any of them paid attention to her was when it was time to eat and they wanted to know what she’d prepared for dinner. As soon as the meal was finished, they’d all bolt from the table, either to watch a show, play video games, or to target practice on their back property. Carson knew because he and Anna had been there on many occasions and witnessed this exact scenario.
More than a time or two Bree’s brothers had teased him because he preferred to stay in the kitchen to help the girls clean up instead of heading out to the yard with the men. He’d always brushed their comments off and used the excuse that he wanted first dibs on the dessert—not a complete lie. Bree was a great cook. She’d had to learn early and had been doing all the cooking since she was thirteen, when her mother died.
Good-natured ribbing from Bree’s brothers was a thing of the past. Now, if they didn’t murder him on sight, they certainly wouldn’t talk to him. Not such a terrible loss, except that they were Bree’s family—his family soon too—and keeping peace between them was going to be important.
It was all Carson could do not to lean his head forward and bang it in on the steering wheel or drive them both off the bridge into the river. For the first time in his life, he began to understand the despair that might lead someone to end his life. It would be so much easier than facing everyone and everything.
Except that then he’d be facing his mom. And Bree’s mother too. This life wasn’t the endgame. He’d be accountable here or there. And while he was still here, he’d better do everything in his power to fix this mess. He hated the thought that his mom might know about this, that she might be watching him and be so terribly disappointed.
“I’ll make it right,” he vowed, pounding a fist instead of his head against the wheel. He glanced over at Bree, knees tucked up to her chest, dried tear tracks on her face as she slept uneasily. Pity and regret swelled within him, overshadowing his own misery. He softened his voice. “Somehow,” he promised. “I’ll make this right.”