Ex to See Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  The Country Love Collection

  Other Works by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  About the Author

  Ex To See (A Country Love Story)

  Published by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Copyright © 2021 Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, or recording, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design:

  Cori Armstrong, MSH Marketing

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  Formatting:

  Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Designs

  http://champagnebookdesign.com

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  Editing:

  Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor

  https://mybrotherseditor.net/

  * * *

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Visit www.drrebeccasharp.com

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  Sage

  “Oh my god, Rose! I’m pulling onto Mom and Dad’s road right now. You can’t wait five seconds to talk to me?” I answered my sister’s third call in a row with a frantic laugh.

  “No! Stop. Stop where you are. Stop. Stop. Stop,” Rose ordered with her older-sibling tone of ‘do what I say or we’re going to be in big trouble.’

  There were three of us Walker siblings. Callan, the oldest and only boy who helped our parents run their apple orchard and was the best brother in the world; admittedly, I was a little biased. Then there was Rose, the middle child and middle school teacher who searched for perfection in everything she did, and then there was me. Sage. The youngest and most determined to be the independent one.

  To be clear, I wasn’t reckless in my independence. I just happened to be the only sibling who hadn’t decided to stay in our hometown of Laconia, New Hampshire or work on the Walker Apple Orchard. No, I’d been the free spirit who moved a whole hour and a half away to Portsmouth and ran my own handmade jewelry business.

  “Okay. Sheesh. Stopping,” I huffed.

  Conveniently, I’d just pulled up to a stop sign at the last block before my parents’ property started, apple trees lining the road until the entrance to their driveway appeared on the right. I’d left my apartment in Portsmouth with my car packed for the upcoming weeks at home and did my maid of honor due diligence by listening to the playlist I’d put together for Rose’s rehearsal dinner on the drive back to my childhood home.

  In true Rose fashion, her upcoming wedding was going to be nothing short of New England-in-the-fall perfection. From the two weeks of fall activities with family and friends, to locally sourced food, fall-themed cocktails, and the flower girls? Yeah, their baskets would be carrying fresh—err—fallen leaves to be scattered down the aisle for the bride.

  Don’t get me wrong. It was going to be stunning—just like my sister. But it was a lot of work to impress a perfectionist.

  “What do you need?” I asked, deciding she must’ve forgotten something for the small meet and greet my parents were hosting for the bridal party tonight. “Is it ice? Did they forget to get ice again? Because I called dad this morning and told him—”

  “No, Sage,” she cut me off. “It’s Sean.”

  “Sean?” My eyebrows scrunched together. “You mean Mike’s best man?”

  I’d never met the guy. In fact, the only groomsman I knew was my brother. But I’d heard a few names here and there—all friends of Mike’s from college.

  “Yes—no.” She groaned like she was in pain. “Yes and no.”

  “Spit it out, Rose. I’m at my stress-level limit for this wedding,” I teased her. Whatever it was really couldn’t be that bad. But for a personality like my sister’s, any slight issue was the equivalent of a world-ending disaster.

  “Mike’s Sean is Shithead Sean.”

  Oh, God. I felt the blood draining from my face. Yep, it was that bad—world-ending-set-to-a-Nickelback-soundtrack bad.

  “I didn’t realize, Sage. I couldn’t believe it. I’d always heard of Sean as Mike’s roommate from UPenn. But I’ve never met him. He lives in Florida, and honestly, even when I just met him, I didn’t recognize him. It’s been so long. But then he mentioned being from here—and he asked about you. And. Oh my god.” She began to pant uncontrollably. “I never imagined it could be the same Sean, but it is. And I can’t—I can’t do this to you, Sage.”

  I heard her, but I was hardly listening.

  I hadn’t thought of Shithead Sean Anders in a long time. It would be like wanting to remember a UTI. Who wants to remember something that burned you so painfully in the most vulnerable way?

  “It’s fine,” I heard my hollow voice say.

  Meanwhile, my stomach was screaming ‘we’re going to throw up.’ My brain was screaming ‘don’t you remember what he did—what he said?’ But my heart… my poor, perpetually selfless heart… sighed with dismay and reassured my sister because this was her wedding, and I refused to be any source of drama or concern.

  “It’s not fine, Sage,” she replied quietly. “He cheated—”

  “Rose, please,” I begged, swallowing the bile that began to rise. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve moved on.”

  I’d started dating Sean as a freshman in high school. He’d been a senior along with Rose. His best friend, Frank, had been dating Rose at the time, so Sean was around enough for something to strike up between us.

  I remember how surprised I was when Sean first asked me out. I was just Rose’s little sister who made jewelry in her free time, could never figure out an attractive way to style my blonde unruly curls, and could sometimes come out with a well-placed pun. Why would he be attracted to me? Especially because I wasn’t the track-star, clean-eater that my sister was.

  I liked Oreos. Double-stuffed—not the rookie kind. And it showed.

  But Sean wanted me. And for that year, it was great. Frank and Rose and Sean and me. Double dates galore.

  But then they all graduated. Rose and Frank were smart; they decided to go their separate ways—Rose to Boston and Frank to Ohio State. But Sean and me… he was going to UPenn. He said it wasn’t that far—that we could make it work.

  And when you’re a sixteen-year-old girl and your boyfriend tells you he loves you, why wouldn’t you believe him?

  Because he was a lying, no-good, sack of Sean.

  “Sage—”

  “Rose.” I took a firm tone. “He’s already ruined enough.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree! Which is why I’d rather have Mike kick him out of the party—”

  I groaned. “You can’t ask Mike to kick his best man—”

  “I can ask that man anything I want, and he would do it,” she declared staunchly.

  “Rose.” I pulled my lips between my teeth and bit down hard, finding release for the pain in my chest before I confessed, “If you do so
mething now… if you make a big deal out of this now… it’s only going to make it worse. It’s only going to prove him right.”

  “Right about what? That he’s a bottom-dwelling, scum-sucking—”

  “That I’m so desperate and alone, I had to beg my older sister to change her whole wedding around rather than face him,” I mumbled, reaching up and fingering the bright yellow and gold glass-blown bead in the center of my necklace; it was one of my favorites for fall, which was why I’d kept it for myself instead of selling it.

  “Alright, so how do we make him pay?”

  I chuckled and shook my head. If there were two traits my sister didn’t lack—other than patience—it was love and loyalty.

  “His payment is having to live his life as Shithead Sean,” I grumbled. “And I think that’s plenty.”

  “Let me rephrase… how do we prove him wrong about you? I want him to eat every last horrible thing he said to you.”

  Well, I certainly had.

  I lifted my necklace, rubbing the smooth bead over my lips, lost in a daze before I replied wryly, “Easy. Find me a movie-star boyfriend who thinks I’m gorgeous and is madly in love with me.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Dammit, I already asked Ryan Gosling, but he said you were too good for him.”

  I burst out laughing. My sister was always my biggest cheerleader. That was why I wouldn’t let my one bad—catastrophic—breakup ruin her wedding.

  “You know, while I appreciate the effort, it would help if you at least got his name right.” I sighed. “It’s Ryan Reynolds, not Ryan Gosling.”

  “Well, crap.” My sister giggled. “Alright, so I got the name wrong, but the idea was right.”

  “What idea?” I asked, trying to steady the Tilt-A-Whirl in my mind.

  “To get you a date.”

  A horn behind me blared and I jumped. Glancing up, I saw a car had pulled up behind me. My foot hit the gas a little too heavy as I pulled forward.

  “I don’t need a date. I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” I laughed weakly. “It’s just one…”

  Slowly, I pulled to the side of the road, bringing my car to a stop when I realized one horrible fact.

  “It’s not just one day,” I said numbly, putting the shifter in park and bending my forehead to the steering wheel.

  It wasn’t just the wedding day. There were three weeks of pre-wedding events planned with the bridal party and any local guests who wanted to attend. Of course, there wasn’t something every day, but Rose wanted her wedding to be more than a one-weekend event. She wanted everyone who was available to experience our hometown which was known for its fall activities, and get to know each other. A wedding staycation. And I’d planned every single activity. From apple picking at our family’s orchard to the hayride and haunted house, and of course, New Hampshire’s famous pumpkin festival.

  And the pride I took in all my hard work quickly deflated at the thought of having to bear them all with Sean in tow—his hazel eyes and perpetual smirk reminding me that he’d been right; I’d ended up alone.

  “Do you have any guy friends you could ask? I can ask Ronnie—”

  “Don’t ask Ronnie,” I begged. Ronnie had worked for my family’s orchard for ages, and he was a nice guy, but he already asked me out once before I moved to Portsmouth, and I didn’t want to get his hopes up. “This is dumb. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a date to your wedding just to prove Sean wrong.”

  Rose was silent.

  “Stop biting your nails or the nail lady won’t have anything to work with,” I scolded her, knowing my sister’s habit of biting them when she was anxious.

  “I just worry about you,” she murmured.

  I reached for the shifter, inhaling deeply, knowing I was about to drive to my doom.

  Don’t go there, Sage. Dramatics don’t look good with your complexion—or your bridesmaid dress.

  “I know, and I love you, but you don’t need to worry about me—”

  “Hey, Rose!” my brother called in the background.

  “Hold on, Cal, I’m on the phone with Sage,” she returned.

  “I know. Tell her to stop at Fantasy and pick up some ice. Mom and dad don’t have any.”

  I huffed. “I knew they forgot the freaking—”

  “You hear that, Sage?” Rose asked.

  “Yeah,” I grumbled.

  “I already gave Luke a heads up,” my brother added distantly.

  Great.

  Double freaking great.

  Luke Chambers. Another name from my childhood. And another crush. But that was no different than the entire female population (and some of the male) from our high school; his string of girlfriends was only surpassed by a record-setting number of touchdowns his senior year.

  It was probably best that I’d never been in his line of flirtatious fire since he was my brother’s best friend. Or maybe that was the reason I’d been spared.

  Either way, he’d been lumped in the unrealistic category of crushes right along with Justin Timberlake and, as Rose so aptly mentioned, Ryan Reynolds—the kind of crush you dream about but never feel disappointment over not having a shot.

  Luke was the current owner of Fantasy Brewing, the local brewery in town. He’d opened his business the year I moved to Portsmouth, and I heard about how great it was in passing from my family, but I hadn’t been there yet. I hadn’t any reason to. And now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen Luke in years, if not since high school.

  “I’ll grab the ice and then be back. Don’t do… anything,” I warned my sister, worried she might try to skewer Sean with one of the grill prongs before I returned. “Is there anything else you need while I’m still out?”

  “For you to come back with a boyfriend.”

  My shoulders slumped and, checking my mirrors, I turned around and fled the scene of the soon-to-be crime.

  “How about you just order one off of Prime? Then he’ll be here by tomorrow,” I quipped, clinging to levity like a party balloon.

  “Great idea,” she exclaimed. “Better yet, maybe if I borrow one of your wands, I can magically whip one up instead.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. “I’m not touching my collection of Harry Potter wands just to create a boyfriend,” I told her like such a thing was possible, adding even more practically. “Plus, I left them all in Portsmouth.”

  My collection of Harry Potter books, editions, movies, and paraphernalia was a thing to be admired.

  “Dang.” I heard her snap her fingers and then go silent for a moment. “Hey, while you’re at Fantasy for the ice, do you want to see if Luke wants to come over tonight for the welcome dinner?”

  “He’s not in the wedding,” I blurted out. My perfectionist sister never broke the rules.

  And the rules for the event were simple: family or bridal party.

  “I don’t care. I’m in the mood for exceptions,” she replied, and I understood immediately.

  The more people who were there, the less risk I ran of being stuck with Sean’s company for the entire night.

  “I’ll be back in a little,” I told her, unsure whether or not I was going to comply with her suggestion.

  “Thanks, Sage.”

  We hung up, and I turned in to town.

  In spite of the tornado that was currently and unexpectedly blowing through my life, the fall spirit of downtown Laconia was exactly the kind of thing that lit a warmth inside my chest. It was the crunch of fallen leaves, the scent of apples and cinnamon, and the rainbow of oranges dotting the trees and decorating the houses all rolled into a sense of coming home.

  If there was one thing I could always count on, it was a picturesque fall in New Hampshire.

  If there was one thing I’d learned the hard way never to count on, it was men.

  At least having to see this hot hunk from high school was light years better than walking into my parents’ house and dealing with Sean.

  At least Luke was nice to me. Most of the time.

&nbs
p; Alright. At least he wasn’t an asshole who lied about how he felt about me, cheated on me, and then told me it was my fault.

  Deep breath, Sage. Just pick up the ice. That’s all you have to do.

  I stared at the warehouse in front of me. The ornate Fantasy Brewing sign was unmistakable as soon as I pulled into the small complex. With a deep blue background dotted with tiny yellow and white stars and bright orange typography, it made me think they brewed a little bit of magic into their beer.

  And maybe they did.

  Getting out of my car, I adjusted my black and white plaid dress over my bright yellow tights, my patent black Doc Martens rising to mid-calf.

  Maybe I should change before heading back to the house.

  Groaning, I turned away from the building and chided myself. No, Sage. This is you. Jewelry-making, bright wardrobe, and donut-loving physique you. Don’t be ashamed of the woman who was too good for a cheater.

  I flattened my palm against my stomach, feeling the buttons of my yellow sweater press against my skin with each forced inhale.

  I hated how one jerk had crushed me at such a vulnerable point in my life that the fracture lines were able to radiate out this far into the future.

  Adjusting my flowered headband, I spun on my chunky rubber heels and beelined for the entrance to the brewpub, listing all the ways Sean was a shithead and not for a second worried about seeing Luke again.

  My steps slowed almost as soon as I crossed the threshold. It felt like I’d stepped off Platform 9 3/4 and straight into Hogwarts—and that alone settled the anxiety buzzing like a bad trip through my veins.

  My love for Harry Potter was as boldly evident as my wardrobe.