Lost the Handle (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation #8)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Quinn

I knew from the moment I met Emery Brooks, my life would never be the same.

I am well aware that my first memory of her is from when I was four and she was two. But even back then, I knew, with her in my life, things would never be easy. Naked as the day is long, she came barreling into me as I was standing innocently in one of those pink kiddie pools. I was minding my own damn business, pouring water out of a watering can, and Emery took great offense to that.

Of course, because my attention wasn’t on her.

Back then, she wanted to be the center of my world.

She knocked me down then threw my watering can to the side. After getting to my feet, I set her with a dark look, and even with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she wailed as if I’d hit her. I stood, shocked, unable to figure out her game.

It wasn’t until I had to sit out, watching her play with my watering can, that I knew what she was up to. She wanted to be the focus of my attention. By holding my watering can, in my pool, while my mom reprimanded me, I had no choice but to watch her. With her curls as wild as she is, her bright gray eyes, and cherubic cheeks, Emery grinned widely at me.

Because I was watching her. I could have looked at the sky or played with the grass, but my eyes were on her.

Emery was never meant to be cast to the side. She has always had main character energy, and through the years, nothing about that has changed. She does what she wants. Says what she feels and doesn’t give a shit about what people think. She’s stunning. Mind-blowing. Fucking brilliant. And will forever be the love of my life.

I think I knew I loved her the moment she pushed me down and made me watch her play with my toys. Even when I was caught by surprise that she wanted to sleep with me, I knew I was hers. I knew then she would forever be the girl I couldn’t get over.

And fuck, I tried.

I tried so damn hard, but my heart only wants her.

Which is why I shouldn’t be surprised by the sight before me.

Where my bride is supposed to be, Emery stands in an all-black dress.

Her eyes are intent on me, her lips curved up in a menacing grin that reminds me more of a serial killer than a blushing bride. Not that Emery blushes. She’s so damn confident, it drives me wild with lust. Even standing where another woman is supposed to be, she is proud. Her chin is up, her eyes locked on mine, and she’s got that look that has me wondering why I ever thought someone else would be standing where she belongs. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d killed my real bride. Lord knows she can get rid of a body with no issues whatsoever.

While stunning, Emery is dangerous.

Not just to the world.

But to my soul.

My brain.

My heart.

My everything.

Because even though she’s not supposed to be my bride, I can’t kick the excitement of her in front of me at the altar. The relief as a calmness falls over me. But this isn’t right. Emery isn’t supposed to be my bride. In my heart, she is. But in reality, it’s supposed to be Ava Mettison.

Fucking Ava.

Where Emery is thick and curvy, Ava is thin and sharp angles. Emery’s hair is a mess of wild curls, dark and intoxicating, while Ava has a short blond bob. Ava’s hazel eyes can’t compare to Emery’s gray depths that evoke a visceral reaction inside me. Like now, I’m breathless as I stare into Emery’s eyes, and while I know she shouldn’t be here, I can’t make myself question why she is. I need to ask what she’s doing, where the hell Ava is, but I’m unable to move, much less think.

Because, fuck, Emery belongs where she is.

Before me in a wedding gown that hugs her body in all the ways I want to. I have missed her. Deeply. And I want desperately to make this reality.

But I can’t.

Swallowing hard, I ask, “What are you doing, E?”

She only grins, holding the bouquet of black roses in her hands. “Marrying the man I love.”

Jesus Christ, this woman. I look out to where I know her parents are sitting, hoping they can help, but no one is here. The church is empty.

What the hell?

I bring in my brows and meet her gaze once more. My heart slams into my ribs, and a ball of emotion threatens to choke me. “E? What is going on?”

“We’re getting married.”

She says the words with such conviction that my heart skips a beat. “What? No. Where is everyone? Where is Ava?”

Her eyes darken as she presses her lips into a thin line. “Who cares? It’s you and me. The way it’s supposed to be.”

She reaches for my hand, but I move away so she can’t grasp it. If she touches me, I’ll do anything she asks. I’ll throw every fucking thing away and marry her.

Fuck. I want to.

I want to choose Emery over and over.

For the rest of my existence.

“No, this isn’t right. What is happening? I’m supposed to be marrying Ava.”

That grin fills her face once more, the sneaky one that ties me all in knots. For one, I love how wicked she looks, and it excites me. I’m the only one who sees the true parts of Emery. All her secrets, her desires—her true self belongs to me. She always has, and she always will.

Or she would, if I weren’t marrying Ava.

Breathless, I say, “Please don’t tell me you killed her.”

She scoffs. “No, not today.” Her eyes dance with mine, promise and heat in her gaze. “I’m not worried about her. You’re mine, Quinn.”

“Em, no. I am marrying her.”

Her lips curve even more, and with a cheekiness only Emery can embody, she says, “I told you we’d see, Quinn Phillips Adler.” She steps closer, taking my tie in her hand and pulling me down to her. I get lost in her eyes as she moves her lips only a breath from mine. “You are mine, and you aren’t marrying anyone but me.”

Just as her lips capture mine, a ringing has the scene in front of me fading away like magic from a Harry Potter movie, and I sit up in a cold sweat. As I gasp for breath, I look around to find that I’m in my apartment, in my bed. The muted gray and black of my room brings me back to reality, and I realize it was all a dream.

Fucking hell.

I cover my face with my hands as I draw in deep breaths, unsure what the fuck that dream was about. Problem is, I’ve been having the same one for the last week. I don’t know why. Or maybe I do.

It’s the guilt. I feel like I’m betraying Emery, but at the same time, she left me. She moved to California; she made a life for herself out there and left me behind. She wasn’t ready for us, as she said. She didn’t want to be tied down. She had goals, plans, and since I didn’t want to go forward with EMQUINNY, she left me behind.

That’s fine.

I’m moving on.

I have to.

I have no choice.

I have my own goals, my own plans to ultimately make my family proud.

But fuck if I don’t miss her.

I miss her all the time, if I’m honest with myself. Emery is not only the love of my life, but she is my best friend.

Or was.

Shit, I don’t know.

I draw in a few more deep breaths before my ringing phone fills my space once more. I reach for it, seeing that it’s Benson. One of, in all the ways that matter, my siblings. The dream has me so fucked up, I can’t even be excited to see his name. Benson has been a constant in my life for the last five years, and we were also roommates before he left. He’s been gone for over a month, in Chicago after getting drafted to the Blackhawks. While they are the rivals of my family’s team, the Nashville Assassins, we are all very proud of him. I’ve always wanted the best for him, and now he is off living his hockey dreams with his dream girl.

Meanwhile, I’m here marrying someone I don’t love, not a hockey star like my twin brothers, and wishing my bride was my dream girl.

Life is weird.

“Bro,” he says when I answer, and I drop my hand from my face.

“What? You good?”

“Yeah, fine?—”

“Cameron?” I ask about his fiancée since he sounds a bit off. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he says, his voice less panicked when he speaks of her. “But listen, I fucked up.”

My brows draw in even more. “What happened? Do you need me to come to you?”

I’m already getting out of bed before he can answer. “No. Listen, don’t get mad.”

Why do people say that? For me, any time someone asks me not to get mad, I get fucking mad. I head to the kitchen for a bottle of water. “What did you do?”

“Emery called me.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest as I pause in my kitchen. “Okay?”

This isn’t out of the norm. Emery grew up with us; we all talk to one another, so I don’t understand what the issue is here. “What of it?”

“She asked if I was living with you, and I said no,” he says slowly, and my brow furrows further as I open my water bottle.

“Okay? I’m confused. You aren’t.”

“She then asked if Ava was living with you.”

Fuck. “And you didn’t lie?”

He groans softly. “No, she caught me off guard. And I knew as soon as she said ‘Fantastic’ that I’d fucked up.”

I groan loudly as I close my eyes. “Fuck, man.”

“Yeah. Um, Quinn…”

“What?” I ask slowly, hating the hesitation in his voice.

“She’s in Nashville.”

And as soon as the words leave his lips, there is a knock at my front door.

“And that’s probably her. I’m really sorry, dude.”

Emery Brooks is here.

I don’t even have to see the future to know I’m fucked.