Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers Book 3) Ahren Sanders (all ebook reader .TXT) 📖

this house is a reminder of your life before Evin, which was centered on performing. In South Carolina, you not only had the support but the distractions to keep you busy.”

“They aren’t distractions, it’s the way of life.”

“Aaggkkk,” her throaty disgust is paired with a full tremor. “I can’t imagine all that icky and gooey. Evin’s enough to handle without all that baggage. Family dinners, babysitting, horseback riding, dealing with teenage girl-boy drama? Your mother-in-law always in your business? No, thank you. Shoot me now.”

“You are such a bitch. Point made.”

“I don’t think it is. Because three months ago, you hit on some dark times and dance was nowhere to get you through it. Sounds like you may have a life without it. Dancing was your passion, Poppy, not your life.”

A single tear falls and I throw my arms around her, the crutches clattering to the floor. “Now your point is really made. Thank you.”

“Like Evin, if I could trade places with you, I would, just to see that radiance one more time.”

“Warning, babe. I’m teetering on the edge of hysterics.”

“Noted. I can keep going until your thick, stubborn, self-righteous ass knows how fucking lucky you are.”

“I know, and if Dante can bring my husband back, I swear I’ll apologize a million times.”

My phone buzzes with a text, and we pull apart, reading it together.

Dante—I found him. We’re at the park. He’s not only running, he’s doing the platinum fitness trail. I’m sticking with him. I hate you.

“The platinum fitness trail? Isn’t that the...”

“It’s the black diamond of trails,” I finish her sentence.

“Shit, Dante trained this morning.”

“I have a lot of making up to do with the two men in my life.”

“Well, Dante got off the hook pretty easy about the ‘hiding Tasha is back’ news.”

“True.”

Her phone rings in her bedroom and her eyes flash with an excited glow.

“Is that Andrew?”

“Most likely.”

“Then answer it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about me. Invite him over next week while you’re visiting.”

“Already done!” She sprints down the hall, and I hear her excited greeting before her door shuts. To no one’s surprise, Andrew Rhodes and Ryanne hit it off when she was in Charleston. They were cautious of the distance. But lately, Ryanne has changed her tune. She can pretend her planned trip to Charleston over Thanksgiving is to be with me and visit her parents, but I know the truth. The glint in her eye tells all.

“Come on, Poppy, let’s start our night of apologies.” Since no one is around, I leave the crutches and go to the kitchen, immediately realizing the difference. Nothing hurts, but the pressure bearing down slows my movements.

An hour later, my nerves are frazzled. Dinner is prepped, all texts are responded to with the best vibe I can give, and even Marco has an update.

I notice the large envelope on the counter addressed to me. When I open it, a thick stack of postcards falls, held together with a paperclip. Familiarity and nostalgia sink in, one-by-one. They are in chronological order of vacations we took as a family. Somewhere in the middle of the pile is a glossy shot of my grandparents’ house. I choke down my cry, continuing through. The next few send a chill down my spine.

Vegas.

Virginia.

Africa.

New York.

Charleston.

Tasha’s recent locations. The last card is blank with a question mark. Such a typical move. Playing games to freak me out.

“Hey, sorry to leave you alone.” Ryanne saunters in, and I shove the cards back in the envelope.

“How’s Andrew?”

“He’s fine,” she answers indifferently.

“Fine? That’s all you’re giving me?”

“He’s fantastic, wonderful, attentive, interested in everything about my life, and can’t wait to see me next week. Is that better?”

“Much better.”

“You know how I’m supposed to drive to my parents’ on Monday and spend a few days?”

I nod.

“He wants me to invite them up for the holiday with everyone. He offered his place for them to stay… with me.”

“Oh, my, that’s cool!” There are a thousand things a best friend should ask, but I don’t.

“Now I need to call my mom and go through this.” Her conflict is clear, torn about leaving me alone again.

Perfect escape.

“Make your call.” I wave her off with a wink. “I’m going to cook and hope Evin will be here soon. Tell your parents I’d love to see them, and they’re welcome at our place, too.”

When her door closes, I review the postcards again, looking for anything unusual. There’s nothing descript. She’s playing her games and trying to get into my head. Anger boils inside. This is not what I want to deal with right now. “Your immature bullshit is the last thing on my mind,” I mumble to myself, dumping it back in the envelope, and deciding to tell Evin after we’ve worked through my stupidity.

The door flies open and Dante stumbles in, falling to the floor and looking haggard. “I had to quit. He broke me.”

“Dante,” I scream, for the first time wishing for my crutch to support my urgency. By the time I make it to him, he’s rolled over. He’s a sweaty, dirty, heaving mess.

“I tapped out at the third turn of the track. Evin’s a beast.”

“Are you okay?” I slide my leg out, keeping it straight while crouching and balancing on my good leg. Jesse and I worked on this last week, and it’s coming in handy.

“Pips, you need to prepare. He’s loaded with something even I can’t identify.”

My hand cups my poor best friend’s cheek and I smile. “I’ll handle it. Do you need help getting up?”

“No, I’m heading out before the shit hits the fan. He didn’t talk much, but he’s been sending a lot of texts. The adrenaline fueling his body is lethal. He’s doing those trails until he works it out of himself.”

“Maybe I should go to him.”

“You should let him do what he needs to do. I told him what happened after he left. He knows you’re waiting.”

He rises, helping me to my feet, noticing my missing crutches but not mentioning it.

“I’ll get you water.”

“This is