The Wilderness (Lavender Shores Book 8), page 1
The Wilderness
Rosalind Abel
Wings of Ink Publications, LLC
Contents
The Wilderness
About the Wilderness
Prologue
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-One
22. Twenty-Two
23. Twenty-Three
24. Twenty-Four
25. Twenty-Five
26. Twenty-Six
27. Twenty-Seven
28. Twenty-Eight
29. Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Family Trees & Lavender Shores Maps
Family Trees & Maps
About the Author
Author Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Rosalind Abel
Brandon Witt
The Wilderness
Rosalind Abel
Copyright © 2018 by Rosalind Abel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Designer: AngstyG - AngstyG.com
Main Editor: Desi Chapman
2nd Editor: Cristina Manole
3rd Editor: Corrine Harris
Continuity Editor: Rebecca Cartee
Family Trees & Map Design: Ron Perry - rperrydesign.com
Visit Rosalind’s Webpage: RosalindAbel.com
Visit Lavender Shores: LavenderShores.com
Created with Vellum
for Meghan Maslow
who masters the balance of wisdom, humor, and kindness
and is abundantly free with each
About the Wilderness
Will Epstein had it all—playboy good looks, wealth and prestige, and a gorgeous fiancé to costar with him on a reality television show. But that was years ago, before he was abandoned at the altar on national television. In the aftermath, Will’s world completely crumbled, leaving him humiliated, alone and lost.
Andre Rivera married his first love and lived a dream life until tragedy stepped in. His wife’s sudden death left him devastated and struggling to build a life for his young daughter. Being a pilot offers Andre a sense of freedom from Lavender Shores, but he feels trapped in his grief and unable to move forward.
A shared sense of loss fosters a surprising friendship between Will and Andre, giving them both the salvation they need. But when feelings cross the lines of friendship and secrets are revealed, Will and Andre have to confront their own fears.
Amid the gold of a Lavender Shores autumn, Will and Andre must grasp their chance at love… before it slips away.
Prologue
Will
September
or
Three Years Ago
Candlelight flickered on the surface of the high, polished bar top. Tracing my fingers over the swirling pattern in the wood I was momentarily captured by the reflection of the chandelier, each of its glistening bulbs looking like little stars. The ornate bar of the Blue Blossom Bed-and-Breakfast in Lavender Shores was the genuine article. It wasn’t a reproduction like the Victorian bed-and-breakfast itself, but the real thing. I’d lost track of how many bars I’d sat at that were as old as this one, just as heavily carved, and whispered back to a century and a half before. Maybe that was why I’d finally left my home to drink in public. The heavily carved bar reminded me of my weeks in England. Those drunken, hazy weeks. Lonely still, but better than drinking at home alone. Again.
Something moved in front of those reflected stars, cutting off their glimmering light. I blinked, and though it was blurry, I realized the thing was my own face. Though I wasn’t sure if I was blurry because of the aged grain of the wood or the combination of gin and whiskey running through my veins. I tapped the fuzzy reflection on the nose, and leaned closer to whisper, “You’re a fucking fool, Epstein. A fucking fool.”
I giggled at my own voice, a bubbly yet dark sound.
Fucking fool.
The old Will Epstein had rarely cursed, he was above such things. Not that cursing was bad as far as the whole “burning soul in hell” kind of thing, but it was just tacky. Not anymore. I could say fuck whenever I wanted to. Besides, after all the actual fucking I’d done across the English countryside, and in the cities for that matter, actually saying the word didn’t seem to hold much scandal.
I leaned closer yet. “Thought you were such hot shit, didn’t you? Handsome, rich, intelligent.” Another giggle. “Now look at you. Pushing forty and the laughingstock of the entire fucking world.” I tapped his nose again. “And you’re drunk.”
Now there was a thought. Leaving my reflection to his own musings, I turned my attention to my glass of whiskey, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Seth had fulfilled my request for another martini. Perfect. A little sip of Nolet’s gin chased by a shot of Dalmore.
I started to thank him, but then realized he was at the other end of the bar, mixing a drink for a cute redhead and flirting shamelessly in pure Seth Marino fashion. Casting a quick scan over the fancy, romantically lit restaurant, I found it mostly empty. It was late, pushing closing time I was sure. The few patrons occupying the tables were paired off—couples leaning near one another, whispering and laughing. Doubtlessly about me.
The people were indistinct enough I couldn’t tell if they were actively looking and pointing in my direction or not, but regardless, they were whispering and laughing about me.
I couldn’t blame them. I’d have done the same.
With my left hand, I dug out my cell. With my right, I lifted the Dalmore, careful not to waste a drop. Knowing what my hand had in mind, I tipped the shot glass and downed the contents. It didn’t matter how many times I’d watched the clip, it required a stiff drink. Or twenty.
The whiskey burned down my throat as I hit the internet browser. It opened to the YouTube page as it always did. Stupid, really. I’d watched the clip countless times over the past three months, I had the thing memorized. No… I had the fucking thing memorized.
Whatever.
I tapped Play and reached for the shot glass only to find it empty. As the aerial shots of the wedding party filled the screen, I switched back to the martini.
My wedding had been live streamed. The culmination of the reality series Titan Love that followed my fiancé and me from proposal to wedding day.
Though I had the phone’s volume off, my mind played the soundtrack as clear as if I was living it for the first time all over again. Micah Bryant’s violin version of “At Last” sang out clear and pure over the ceremony while the cameras panned up my side of the wedding party, all clad in gold. My little sister, Erica, beautiful and looking as if she knew her face had been destined to be on television. My older brother, Nick, whose expression clearly stated that he wished he could be anywhere else. I knew how much it had cost him to come back to Lavender Shores, to take part in family events. How I hated that he’d done so out of love for me only to have had front row tickets to my humiliation. Then Seth, leaving his bar behind to play the handsome best man.
Then it cut away to the other side. To my fiancé’s side. Connor had been a last-minute stand-in for a runaway groomsman. It seemed like such a horrible thing to happen moments before the ceremony, for one of the groomsmen to literally flee from being seen on national television taking part in a gay wedding. How funny that moment would become, and apt. If only I had realized it was a not-so-subtle portent.
The camera left him and focused momentarily on Adrian Rivera. As always, my thumb tapped Pause, and I stared at the fucker. Truth be told, he was the only one of the wedding party who had pulled off the gold my parents had chosen for the wedding colors. It would’ve been so much easier if I could look at his smug little face and label him hideous and ugly, if his outsides matched the hideous troll that occupied his body. But he was living proof, with his glistening bronze skin, that all that glittered truly was not gold. As ever, I studied his dark eyes, trying to see the lies behind them, the plans he had—the plans they’d both had.
The fucker.
I tapped Play once more, and the recording moved on to Jasper, the ginger bookseller who’d nearly been my brother-in-law. I doubted he’d known what was going to happen, but who could say?
And then it was me. Maybe I couldn’t really pull off the gold necktie, but I looked beautiful. And happy. So fucking happy. Hell, I shone brighter than the gold itself.
Then Harrison. Also beautiful, more than beautiful. But unlike me, he didn’t shine, didn’t glow with happiness. The cameras had caught it, as surely as I had in that moment as we’d been about to exchange vows.
I had. I had seen it. I’d not understood it, but I’d seen it. That moment. I didn’t care that we were on national television, I didn’t care that it was live, all of that vanished with the dark shadow that played in Harrison’s sweet brown eye
Harrison nodded and relief had washed over me.
It was normal to have wedding day jitters, especially considering our wedding day, in front of the entire world. I tried to smile encouragingly, communicating the depth of my feelings for him. “Good. I love you.”
Though it wasn’t in the plan, nor scripted, Harrison leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I stiffened with surprise at the motion, but all dread completely faded then. It was just nerves, just a passing moment. Soon the wedding would be over and it would just be us. Though the studio had asked us for a honeymoon special, after Harrison clearly didn’t want to be followed by cameras anymore, I turned them down. I was going to surprise Harrison with the news that night, sweep us off to our honeymoon where it would only be us. Finally.
Harrison pulled back from the kiss slightly, and the look in his eyes brought all the fear back. His whisper hadn’t been loud enough to be picked up by the microphones, but even if the cameras hadn’t caught his lips moving, his words were etched on my heart. “I love you too. I’m sorry. But I can’t do this.”
My body went to ice in that moment. Even as part of my brain screamed that it had to be a joke, some weird prank or blooper that the studio had demanded Harrison perform, I saw the truth of it in his eyes.
He leaned in again, kissed my ear. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
Then he ran.
Though his flight down the aisle showed from the aerial point of view on my phone screen, I saw it from my perspective that day. As he ran from me.
As he ran from me. From us. From the life we had planned.
I think my heart was already breaking, each of his footfalls shattering it further. It couldn’t be happening; it couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.
Then Harrison’s bad knee gave out and he fell, crashing to the ground. Though the impact was hard enough I was certain it hurt him, Harrison popped right back up and continued running. No pain too great to keep him from fleeing our life together, apparently.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Seth snagged the phone from my hands. “That thing hasn’t been seen enough? Hell, everyone’s talking about it breaking records, but I’d say you’re responsible for half the views on there.”
“Mind your own business.” I lurched for the phone, but only managed to nearly knock myself out of the high-backed barstool.
“Really?” Seth leveled his stare at me. “The first night you allow yourself to be seen in public since the wedding and you show up at my bar and tell me it’s none of my business? You’re not going to make the Blue Blossom the scene of a meltdown, and, I love you, so I’m not going to let you do it to yourself, either.”
“Right. Like you haven’t been responsible for more than one scene here. You use this place as your own brothel. How many jilted parties have come knocking on your bar to scream at you?”
He cocked a brow. “Oh, so we’re going there, are we? If you’re going to be throwing sex in my face, then two can play that game.” He turned the phone to face him and began tapping. “Now… where’s that sex tape, again? It has even double the views of the wedding, if I’m not mistaken.”
This time, I managed a steadier lunge and snagged the phone. “Fuck you.”
Seth snagged the phone right back. “No. Fuck you.” Despite his words, his tone became soft. “My guess is you’re responsible for half those views as well.”
I probably was. Either way, I had the hazy images of Harrison being fucked by that goddamn Adrian Rivera a week after our botched wedding thoroughly memorized. As angry as I’d been when I first saw it, by that point I was glad it existed. It kept me from wondering if somehow I could fix things with Harrison, from calling him to try to regain what I’d lost. Just watching their naked bodies moving behind the rain-drenched walls of the glasshouse was more than enough of a reminder for me that not only was I rejected, but I’d been played for a fool.
That time, I didn’t try to get my phone back, and plopped my elbows onto the top of the bar. “Fine. Give me another whiskey.”
Seth started to shake his head and then sighed. “It’s a good thing I’m giving it to you at cost, or you would burn through your entire birthright tonight.” He refilled the shot glass. “You’re going to hate me in the morning.”
“Join the crowd.” I downed the whiskey.
“Shit, Will. If you’re going to do that, I need to switch to the cheap stuff. It’s not like you’ll notice a difference at this point.”
True story. “Again.” I tapped the glass.
Instead of filling it up, Seth leaned closer and placed a warm hand on mine. “It’s good to see you, Will. Finally. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but I’m glad you’re here.”
I’d spent the first six weeks or so in England and the rest of the time hiding out at my home in Lavender Shores. After the inquiries from reporters, bloggers, and gossip columnists had faded away, Seth had been one of the few outside of family who continued to call, despite me giving no response. I’d decided it was time to make an appearance—show everyone I was just fine, thank you very much. And, boy, was I ever doing a bang-up job of it. “Thanks. I’m glad I’m here…” I couldn’t finish the thought. It wasn’t true.
He squeezed my hand. “You’ll get through this. I promise.”
I didn’t bother to nod.
Seth’s tone brightened. “So, tell me about England. Did you break into the old sets of Downton Abbey and refuse to leave?”
Despite myself, I chuckled. “If only.”
“There had to be some good moments?” The hope in Seth’s voice was tentative, like he knew the answer. “I mean all that time in England for an Anglophile such as yourself, there had to be some bright spots, right?”
“One would think.” With my free hand, I grabbed the martini and downed what was left of the gin. “I fucked my way through every British guy there, I’ll tell you that.”
“That sounds more like my style than yours.”
Seth wasn’t wrong. But it seemed the thing to do, and, like the combination of whiskey and gin, it had done its job. It had numbed things for a while, blurred the hours into days, and the days into weeks. That particular assistance had dried up the second I’d reentered Lavender Shores.
I didn’t miss it.
But now that I was in front of Seth, I realized I had missed him. “No more about me. Tell me about you. Any boys I should know about? Anything at the Blue Blossom that’s exciting? Heather Kelly snip off your balls yet?”
“None of that. Heather is my business partner and just as much my best friend as you are. Don’t try to pull me into your all’s founding family feud shit.” As if he’d been watching me before, Seth tapped me on the tip of my nose. “And no, no boys to speak of.”
“Really? I might be three sheets to the wind, but I’m not drunk enough to believe that. If Seth Marino’s awake, he’s at least got one man in play, with two or three waiting in the wings. Even if he’s asleep, for that matter. Maybe even more so then.”
He shrugged. “You know me well. And while that’s true, none of them are special enough to speak of.”
Suddenly I was aware his hand was still on mine. How long had it been since I’d been touched? Well… I knew the answer to that. I’d been touched endlessly in England, but touched by someone I knew, who loved me? That was a different thing. I guess I knew the answer to that too. Three months.
