Runaway Bride and Prejudice (Appies, #5)

by Emma St. Clair

My whole childhood was like a cautionary tale against marriage.

So, for months I tried to forget her. I tried dating her out of my system, but it’s like meeting Amelia altered my brain chemistry. I compared every woman to the one with the sweet smile who stole my fries and made me feel like I was the living embodiment of a Taylor Swift song.

Van smiles. “You can cat fight if you want to. You can pretend to be my wife. Or not. You get to make the rules, Mills.”

With Amelia, the tears hit me harder, though it makes no sense. I both want to pull her into my arms and also go hunt down Drew and tear his head off. Probably but not definitely metaphorically speaking. I choose the hug instead. “Come here.”

Amelia clutches my shirt as she cackles, pressing her forehead to my chest. I love the sound of her laugh and the feel of her happiness. It’s like holding sunshine cupped in my palms.

“I know not many people would be able to make it through a day like this. And you did. You are,” I tell her. “There will be hard days to come. But I can already tell that you will sail through them, Mills. You will. You hear me?”

“Tomorrow is the start of a whole new chapter. It will all be real,” I explain. “And I’m not ready.”

I realize that in his simple offer of whatever I want, Van just gave me more than Drew ever did.

the look Amelia’s giving me makes me forget for a moment. Forget why we’re here. Forget she’s not mine. Forget my own name. “Hi,” she whispers, like we’re sharing a legitimate moment. And then, we are.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Mills.”

I’ve never felt happier, nor so safe, nor so … loved. That’s the one word that fits. Against all odds, all logic, all reason. I can barely think it to myself without cringing. Because … it can’t be. Right?

“I don’t know what I want.” More like … I know what I want. But I’m scared to want it and even more scared to say it out loud. He doesn’t seem surprised. He doesn’t seem hurt. Almost like he expected this to be too hard. Instead, he nods once and says, “Tell me when you do. I’ll be waiting,”

“This has been the best few days I can remember,” he says finally, voice gruff, and I trip over an uneven place in the sand.

“I think it’s more about the company,” Van says, and my heart takes this as its cue to run amok, beating wildly in my chest. I don’t know how to respond, so I go with teasing. Trying to play it off while also tucking it away into my core memories. “All those ladies at the pool today, huh?” He snorts, but when I glance over, his expression is sincere. Vulnerable. Definitely not his typical cocky mask. I sway on my feet, thoughts humming. “It’s you, Mills.” “Oh,” is all I can manage.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I thought⁠—” Van’s hands curl around my upper arms, tugging me closer, and when I look up, his eyes are wild, his lips are parted, and his breath is coming in short pants. “What did we say about apologies?” he whispers. “Because I refuse to be sorry about this.” And then he’s the one kissing me.

I don’t want this moment to end, and at the same time, I want to have five thousand more moments just like this one. A lifetime of this. “Van,” I murmur. “Mills.”

I’ll have to tell him that too—I didn’t come here for him. I came for her.

My time with Mills was the furthest thing from nothing. It’s the something equivalent of Mount Everest.

Nothing I did with Amelia was to earn back my spot. Not a single thing.

I guess we all have weaknesses and blind spots. And Coach’s weakness is clearly Amelia. Apparently, it’s a weakness we share.

Maybe because I didn’t care as much about Drew as I do Van. Did. As much as I did care about Van.

“What happened before you, who I did or didn’t date—that doesn’t matter.” “Why not?” My voice is tiny. His head dips, his nose tracing a little path across my cheek until his lips find my ear. “Because I only married you.”

“I know you told her you’re not dating anyone,” Alec says, cutting through the chatter, “but you have to be.” “He does have that look,” Felix says, and I don’t like the way our goaltender watches me. “I don’t have a look.” “He does,” Logan says, then shrugs when I glare. “You do.” “It’s the look of a man who’s in love.”

I was thinking about how Van, more than anyone in my life including my dad, made me feel more like myself. That it was okay to be myself, whoever myself happened to be.

How being with Van felt different than it ever had with Drew. Or with anyone. I’m not sure anyone has ever allowed me that kind of freedom to just unapologetically … be.

I said it again and again that night, and I remember how it felt saying those words to her when I’d never said them to a woman before.

I may not regret marrying Amelia—not completely, anyway—but I absolutely regret not having my sisters there.

“If you can’t crash at your husband’s place when your life falls apart, where can you go?”

“I want it all, Mills,” he says. “I want you. But only if this is what you want too. Only if I’m what you want. I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confesses, and the vulnerability in his voice makes me curl my fingers into my palms.

“Trust us,” Grey says, and when I meet her eyes, something in me shifts. I want to go to the game. I need to go to the game. I need Van to see me there in his jersey with his sisters. He put it all out there for me in his bedroom last night. Now, I want to put it all out there for him. Publicly.

I’m part of a team. A family. We’re the Appies. And we aren’t going to go down like this in our own house.

But right now, my focus needs to be right here—with this family.

Not three. There are four faces painted in turquoise and white. Four practically feral women decked out in Appies gear just behind the glass. Amelia. She came with my sisters—and she’s screaming for me, pounding her fists on the glass, looking every bit as feral as they do. And she’s wearing an Appies jersey. Backwards, for some reason.

Then she points the the jersey, gesturing wildly until I realize—she’s wearing it backwards so my name is plain to see, right across her chest.

It’s more than motivation. It’s … everything. Every significant person in my life is in this building, and the thought makes warmth spread through me. More than a need to win the game, I’m fueled by the need to finish the game, get out of the locker room, and to find Mills.

And now that I know who’s watching, I want a goal of my own. I want my moment. For my sisters. For Mills.

Though right now, I crave her words. I want the reassurance. I need to know if this means what I think it means—her here, face painted, my name across her chest. But I can’t wait for that. I love you, I mouth. I love you, Mills. She nods emphatically, her eyes brimming. I love you too, Robbie, she mouths back.

“But you also said everyone has their own love story waiting to be told. If that’s true then why can’t this be my story?” I flip my palm and lace my fingers through Van’s, offering him a shy smile. “Our story.”

“Thank you for trusting me with your daughter, sir.” He nods. Sniffs. Wipes one eye. “Thank you for helping her fly.”

We’ll deal with the marriage license another day, and I can’t even be mad about it. Because despite my vow that I would only get married once, I would say “I do” to Amelia a hundred times over.