Page 2 of Sundown Somewhere

“Between last night and now?” Gus questions.

Margeaux shrugs. “He and his groomsmen were throwing them back pretty hard last night at Pour Decisions. I don’t know where they went from there, but…”

“I took everyone’s keys,” Milo says. Last night’s rehearsal dinner was held at his bar, so if there is anyone who would know, it’s him. “Standard Pour Decisions practice. Then Brandt shuttled them all back to the Ramblers’ Rest. Not to say that they couldn’t have gotten up to no good from there, but…this is Hickory Hills.”

He lets out a wry laugh, but I shoot him a look. He should know better. Hickory Hills might be a small town in the middle of rural Georgia, but we Hayes kids got up to our fair share of no good back in the day. As the middle of seven kids, I often found myself smack-dab in the center of the trouble too. Hell, I made it my mission some days. So I can confidently say that if you want to find it, you can.

That said, being dropped off at the roadside “inn”—if you want to call it that—the night before your wedding is a far cry from stirring up trouble with your friends. Especially when you don’t know the town.

“And we checked the inn?” I ask.

“Anton’s headed there now,” Milo answers.

My stomach churns, a pang of guilt starting to gnaw at me that I didn’t consider that maybe there is a legitimate reason Jeff isn’t here. That it has nothing to do with him being an asshole.

Don’t get me wrong—he’s an asshole. A first class, grade A, prime choice asshole.

But he makes Dolly happy, for reasons I will never understand. Reasons I don’t need to understand. All I need to know is that he does.

And if she’s happy, then nothing else matters.

My phone buzzes against my leg, and I reach into my pocket, desperate for some kind of news. Good news. Something. Anything. Fuck, Jeff being in a coma at this point would at least give me something to pass along to the bride and all her guests.

“Anton,” I answer, without looking at the screen. If it’s anyone other than the brother right above me in the lineup, they’re just going to have to deal with being called the wrong name.

“No dice. He’s not here.”

Like I said, first class, grade A, prime choice asshole.

“And it gets worse.”

Excuse me?

I swallow hard, my throat drier than the Sahara, while the rest of me feels like it could go up in flames at any moment. Because if there was ever a time that you don’t want to hear the words it gets worse, it’s while you’re trying to locate the groom at your best friend’s wedding.

“Jeff checked out this morning,” Anton continues when I don’t say anything. “According to Connie at the desk, he was booked for another night, because this is where he and Dolly were coming after the reception, but he told her that there had been a ‘change of plans.’”

A change of plans…

I huff out a breath, pretty sure that I’m a half step away from breathing fire. Whatever change of plans there was, Jeff didn’t seem to think to inform anyone else in the wedding party. Since as of a few hours ago, the other bridesmaids and I met with the local florist to get the rose petals spread all over that hotel room for tonight.

That fucker.

I end the call, not bothering to say anything to Anton. My blood is boiling and I need answers. I need to find the groom. And I’m going to start with the best man.

I push past my brothers, ready to rip some heads off. Dolly did not spend three years planning this day to have it end like this. She deserves better. She deserves the world.

“Where are you going?” Gus calls after me.

“I need to talk to Ryan.”

I slam open the church door, the bright sunlight blinding me for a second, warm April air swirling around me. You couldn’t have ordered up a better day for a wedding, the blue sky the perfect shade against the white of the few clouds floating by.

“Hux.”

The sound of my name stops me dead in my tracks only a few steps into the small, shared parking lot between Hickory Hills Baptist and the town library. Looking up, I find Ryan, the best man, staring back at me, his expression as humorless as mine.

“Where the fuck is he, Ryan?”