Chapter 15

I’m an asshole. Everyone knows that. I know that. It’s just an accepted fact. But as the night wore on and I got more and more irrational and deeper and deeper into a bitter mood fueled with whiskey, even I knew I was being a mega-asshole.

But I couldn’t stop it. The only way to chase that feeling away was booze and it wasn’t working. I had been on edge, feeling like I needed to see Sophie. Like I needed to fuck her. Like that would fix this tornado that swirled inside me. Then she hadn’t texted me back and I followed her and there was Christian and fuck, there was Ali, and after that, I had no control.

No fucking control at all.

My intoxication level was higher than normal, but not gone enough to explain my behavior. Sure, I had slid past happy hour to holy hell levels, but nothing I hadn’t done before. What I was not known for was getting into physical fights. Not really. But when Christian pointed out Ali was back, my insides had twisted.

Then I had seen her. Looking all put-together, like any other blonde out for some fun at the bar. Like she hadn’t been AWOL from her son’s life practically since his birth. Like hey, no big fucking deal. Like she hadn’t destroyed my relationship with my brother and left my mom caring for her grandson.

Like she didn’t have a goddamn care in the world.

And I had looked at Sophie and I knew I was being selfish. It wasn’t right to keep her. It wasn’t fair to her to let her fall for me, when this was my stinking shit pile of a life. So I had lashed out, in anger and heartbreak and alcoholism, and I had tossed a table and punched my twin.

That crunch of my fist into his nose, the sharp sting of pain through my knuckles, the crack of his bone, and his grunt, all satisfied me, I’m not going to lie. I had been waiting two years to punch him, holding it in, and denying myself the pleasure of causing him pain. It was nothing compared to what he had caused me.

“What the fuck?” Christian yelled, rearing back, raising his fists to defend himself. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes.” I felt like I had. Like it was two years in the making, and having my relationship with Sophie collide with my past so awkwardly was more than I could handle.

So I swung again. This time he defended himself, blocking my punch. Then he got me in return with a right hook. It momentarily stunned me, but it didn’t really hurt. Nothing hurt compared to what he had done to me. And compared to the knowledge that I was no good for Sophie.

After that I felt nothing but rage and frustration flying out of me as I grappled with my brother, the ultimate sibling smackdown. We had been wrestling and fighting with each other our whole lives, but this was different. It was personal.

Arms grabbed me from behind and I kicked and fought and snarled, hearing myself cursing like a fucking wild animal or an inpatient at an insane asylum.

Then I realized this wasn’t about Ali. Not anymore.

This was about Sophie. I had fallen in love with her. I wanted her more than anything. But she deserved better.

When Christian and I were finally ripped apart by the bouncers, I didn’t see her anywhere. “Where is Sophie?” I asked Dylan, the other bartender, who was cleaning up the mess I had made. I was being cuffed by a sheriff’s deputy.

Dylan glared up at me from where he was squatting and sweeping up glass. “She left, you dick. Smart girl.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, but I realized he had a point.

My mouth was dry and I had blood on my lip from where Christian had nailed me in retaliation. I could rage further. Or I could accept my fate.

---

I woke up in jail with the conviction I had fucked up beyond repair. The pounding head, the dry mouth? All familiar, all easily fixed with a cup of coffee and some aspirin. But it wasn’t every day that I rolled over, memories fuzzy, with that hard press on my chest, that knowledge I had done something extra stupid. I was still fully dressed, on top of the bedding.

It wasn’t the first time I was in jail, sprawled out on a bed in a small cell. But it was the one time I actually felt regret.

I had flipped a table onto Sophie.

Classy, Jordan. Fucking classy.

Rubbing my eyes I tried to remember why I had thought that was a good idea. Bottom line? It wasn’t.

Sitting straight up despite the fact that it made my gut tighten and my head spin, I tried to think. What was the last thing Sophie said? Something about not wanting to be there when I woke up hungover every day.

You know, like today.

Fighting the urge to throw up, I bent over and rattled the bars, seeing my twin in the cell next to me. “Hey, Christian. Wake up.”

With a sigh, he opened his eyes. “What?”

“Do you know where Sophie went last night?”

His eyebrows shot up and he pulled himself to a sitting position. “Home? How the fuck should I know?”

That ominous feeling rode me hard. The horrible, gut-wrenching feeling that I might actually never see her again. Ever.

“This is your fault,” I said, more out of habit than anything else.

“No, this is your fault because you’re an asshole and an alcoholic.”

That annoyed me. I didn’t need his opinion. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Christian was still stretched out on his bunk, not looking at me. “Thanks to you I’m going to sit here for who knows how long, missing work because you know Mom can’t bail us out.”

I knew he was probably right and hot shame filled my mouth. My mother didn’t need this. I couldn’t even defend myself because I had completely lost control. I rubbed my jaw. “Did they say what the charges were?” I hadn’t paid attention once I had been cuffed.

“Assault. You also got public intoxication and drunk and disorderly.”

God, we’re the wonder twins in reverse. Asshole twins. Punk-ass twins. Fuckup twins. “Did you really have to hit me?” I touched the back of my skull. I felt dried blood. “It wouldn’t have been that bad if you hadn’t swung back.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stand there and take it?” He shook his head. “Whatever, man.”

“You can drop the charges, right, since you’re my brother?”

“I think they’re going to drop all the charges. We’re still in our street clothes. The sheriff is just pissed at us and teaching us a lesson. Though the public intoxication one might stick.”

“I don’t care about that.” I didn’t. It wasn’t my first time being arrested for being a dick in public. “I just hope Sophie is okay.” Then I instantly regretted saying that out loud.

“Besides being totally embarrassed and having her feelings hurt in the most public way possible? I’m sure she’s fine.”

My gut dropped at hearing the truth spoken so matter-of-factly. I leaned over and tossed everything into the metal toilet in the corner. If I were her, I would ghost my ass. I would never speak to me ever again. She would be totally justified in cutting me off without a word. And that felt like the worst possible thing ever.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and fuck.”

I kicked the bars of the cell, which hurt like hell. “Fuck.”

“Feel better?” Christian asked.

“No. So feel free to enjoy my misery.”

“Jordan brothers. You’re getting out.” The sheriff deputy was a guy in his thirties who was well acquainted with my father, and from what I understood, my baby sister.

“Who bailed us out?” Christian asked, sitting up.

“See for yourself.”

I couldn’t remember the guy’s name but considering I had seen him running around with my sister, I thought he was being a little pompous. I just rubbed my jaw and the back of my neck while he unlocked us. He had papers for us to sign and then he returned my cell phone and wallet to me.

When we walked into the waiting room Sophie and Bella were there. I drew up short, my heart in my throat.

Sophie was avoiding eye contact with me in a way that made me hate myself. Bella looked wretchedly hungover. “You bailed us out?” I asked Sophie, astonished. “Thank you, baby. And I’m sorry. My God, I’m so sorry.”

Sophie looked rigid, and her nostrils flared. “I just drove Bella here because she didn’t feel well this morning. She is the one who bailed you both out.”

I deserved that. In fact, I deserved to still be in that cell.

“Why are you bailing me out?” Christian asked Bella. “But thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Because I called you a local loser and accused you of stealing my credit card.” Bella looked miserable and ashamed.

Basically how I imagined I looked at the moment.

“I found the card in my bra.”

Christian let out a crack of laughter.

“This isn’t funny. I was a horrible entitled bitch.”

“Well, it is funny. But you’re right. You were a bitch.” Christian chuckled again. “I owe you one.”

“No. We’re even.”

Bella was dressed in pajama pants and a tank top with no bra. Her hair looked like a tornado had blasted through it. For her to appear in public like that I figured she must feel pretty lousy about the night before.

“Why did you bail me out?” I asked her, curious. “You should have let me rot in there. I earned that spot.” I waited for Sophie to say something, anything, but she didn’t.

Bella chewed her fingernail. I could see that out of her ten fake fingernails at least two were torn off. “Because it’s my fault the night went crazy. I was so wasted and Sophie had to babysit me.”

Sophie was shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “That’s not the point, Bel.”

No, it wasn’t. “It’s not your fault. But thanks. I’ll pay you back today.”

Sophie was looking at the floor, her jaw set. I went over to her and whispered, “Hey. I’m so sorry.” I gently took her chin in my hand and lifted her head. There was pain and disappointment in her eyes. For a second I actually thought I was going to cry. Something I hadn’t done since Ali had told me the baby wasn’t mine. Those had been tears of betrayal, hurt. This was self-loathing. I hated myself. I absolutely hated myself, and I knew I could never make this up to Sophie. “I’m sorry about throwing the table. I’m sorry you fell.”

I ran my thumb over her skin. “Will you come outside and talk to me, just for a minute?”

She looked so cold, so remote. So closed off. I hated it. I had to try to make her understand that I would never hurt her intentionally. But she nodded and I dropped my hand and opened the door for her, my head pounding and my gut twisted in knots that had nothing to do with drinking too much whiskey.

Sophie walked out, wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt that had Harvard on it. It was a good reminder. That’s who she was. This was who I was. She tossed her dark hair back and looked at me. “What do you want to say? And for the record, I know you didn’t expect me to fall. But everything you said, that was intentional, and you didn’t bother to make sure I was okay. You didn’t help me off the floor, but you left me there, covered in spilled beer. I’m angry with you for that.”

“You should be. I’m sorry.” It sounded so weak. I didn’t know how else to say it. I drew in a deep, painful breath.

“I know you’re sorry.”

But it wasn’t enough. I could hear that in her voice.

She was right. I had never set out to pull her into my life, and it had been selfish when I had. She had asked me to let her go and instead, I had started a bar fight. Embarrassed and hurt her. I didn’t deserve her. She deserved better.

“You know how the story ends, Soph,” I told her, my throat raw and my ears ringing. I forced myself to look at her, even when I didn’t want to because it broke my heart.

She didn’t answer me. She just stared at me, her nostrils flaring.

“Eventually the big bad wolf consumes Red. He destroys her.” Like I would destroy her. Like I had already started to. “And I don’t want to do that to you. So you need to run. Just run as far away from me as you can.”

Sophie broke. A sob came from her. There were tears welling in those dark, beautiful eyes. “I know. But…”

There was a gigantic question in that single word. I knew what she wanted me to say. I also knew I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t give it. Not now. Maybe not ever. “I wish I could be a better man,” I told her gruffly. “But I’m not. And you do deserve better. And I would never forgive myself if I held on to you when I shouldn’t, fucking up your ability to move on and forget all about me.”

“You don’t get to decide how I feel,” she said, those tears running down her cheeks.

That one lacerated me. She was so strong. So stoic. She had trusted me, and I had betrayed her. Shattered her innocence. And yet she stood there, staring me down, and I was so damn proud of her. “You’re right. I don’t. So you tell me how you feel.”

“I feel like you hate your life more than you could ever love me. And I was stupid to think otherwise. I guess it’s true what they say—love makes you stupid. Even a girl like me.”

Was she seriously saying she loved me? If I could have made myself punishable by death, I would have accepted it right then for what I had done to her. “But smart girls learn their lesson,” I said gruffly. “And maybe someday you can look back and believe that I loved you too. Because I do.”

I had never meant to. I had never wanted to let her, or anyone, inside my heart again, because when you love you can be hurt. Like this. Like now. But I loved her because she was who she was. I hadn’t been able to prevent it.

“More than whiskey?” she asked, her voice plaintive and small. She sounded young, so vulnerable.

I nodded. “Yeah. More than whiskey. Even if I didn’t have time to prove that.” I reached out and pulled her to me because I had to feel her one last time. She felt so small in my arms. So fragile. My little nugget of knowledge, always unblinking and full of questions. But she was quiet now. Like she had nothing left to ask because I had given her all the answers.

So I kissed the top of her head, caressing her back over the soft cotton of her T-shirt. “Bye, Soph. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.” Then she peeled herself from my arms.

And she ran, just like I had told her.

She didn’t run like an athlete, but more like someone stumbling away from danger. Which she was.

I sat down on the curb, resting my forearms on my knees. I fished out a pack of cigarettes from my back pocket. The lighter was missing. I felt all around for it. Nothing. Like me. Numb and nothing.

Bella came out, glanced at me, gave me a wave, and started fast-walking after her sister.

Christian sat down next to me with a sigh. “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said. “I used to bounce back better after fighting with you. My fucking shoulder is killing me.” He rolled it.

“Yeah, well, it can’t hurt as bad as my back from where you stuck the knife in it with Ali.”

“Ha-ha.”

“You got a light?” I asked, the cigarette dangling unlit from my lips.

“Yeah.” He reached into his pocket and handed me the lighter. “Just so you know, in case I never said it, I’m sorry about Ali. I really am. If I could go back and not do it, I would.”

My head was pounding and my heart felt shredded. Like ground beef through a grinder. But if I was going to fix this, me, anything, I had to think with my head instead of feeling. I couldn’t react with anger, with raw, unfettered emotion. So I swallowed the pit in my dry throat and said, “You should be sorry. But if you went back and undid it, there is a fifty percent chance there wouldn’t be Camp now. And I don’t want that.” I didn’t. The little guy was pure and sweet innocence and he deserved a life that was filled with happiness and love. Not anger.

“I didn’t mean to take over as his father. It was just when Ali disappeared and you were, you know…”

I was still angry. But he had a fair point. “Yeah. I know. Water under the fucking bridge, man.”

I lit the cigarette and took a hard drag, watching Sophie backing out of the parking spot as soon as Bella got into the expensive car. “Though I will never understand why you thought any of that was okay.”

“Do you really want me to explain?” Christian was staring at me. I could feel his eyes burning into me.

I decided I didn’t want to look at him. “No, I don’t want an explanation.” It wouldn’t change anything. He wouldn’t ever be able to explain it in a way I would understand, and it was time to accept that. But there was something I wanted to do.

Blowing out smoke, the cloud obscured my vision of the parking lot and Sophie retreating.

Then it cleared.