“It’s a classic soda from the nineteenth century,” he says. “It’s making a comeback. Ever had it?”
“Nope.” I don’t tell them it was my father’s favorite drink. That doesn’t seem relevant here. “Thanks.”
“No prob,” Mason says. “Got a super-deluxe cheeseburger coming up with a double order of Cajun tots.”
“Appreciate it.” I take a sip of the drink, which goes down spicy and cold. It’s a little like root beer, but with notes of wintergreen and maybe licorice.
I hate licorice.
But I sip it again, wondering if my dad’s sitting somewhere in a bar, drinking his own sarsaparilla and reflecting on how he fucked up his chance at fatherhood.
Doubtful.
Jake eyes me over the rim of his beer. “So what’d you do?”
“Only if you feel like sharing,” Kaleb adds. “This is a safe space. You’re among men who’ve fucked up.”
“Not this bad.” I take another drink of my soda. It isn’t improving.
Mason snorts as he wipes down the bar. “I was too chickenshit to tell Erika I loved her, and she wound up thinking I planned to get back together with my old girlfriend.”
“Ouch.” But still not as bad as what I just did.
“I can top that,” Kaleb says. “I pushed Brooke away because I’ve got a metric fuckton of abandonment issues. I’m working on it.” He sounds proud of that last part. “Lucky for me, she’s got a soft spot for losers.”
“I’m definitely that.” And I guess I’m in good company.
“I’ve never fucked up,” Jake grumbles. Kaleb slugs him again, and he yelps. “Ow! I’m kidding, okay? I let my temper get the best of me and jumped to the wrong conclusions about Cassidy.” He mutters something under his breath, then adds, “She’s also got a thing for losers.”
Mason pipes up again. “Peter and Cal aren’t here right now, but they’ve got control issues and dead-parent baggage covered.” He grabs Kaleb’s glass and refills it. “Lay it on us, man. Maybe we can help.”
“Unlikely.” That’s the shitty thing, isn’t it? I can’t tell them much without betraying their brother, who’s not even here. As far as I know, Noah’s gone back to wherever he travels when he’s not lurking around Cherry Blossom Lake.
“Broad strokes, then,” Kaleb coaxes. “You didn’t cheat on her, did you?”
Jake growls from his barstool.
“Hell, no.” I guess I could have done worse than I did. Not much, but there’s comfort in that. “I promised Hazel I’d keep my nose clean. That I’d stay away from criminals and prison and all that. Then I went to visit an old buddy in the pen.”
“Ouch.” Jake takes a sip of his beer. “Well, that sucks.”
“Yep.” I chug some more sarsaparilla. It tastes like hell, but I’m starting to think I deserve it.
Kaleb looks thoughtful. “Did you say you’re sorry? A sincere apology can go a long way.”
“I’ve apologized six million times.” That’s only a slight exaggeration. Since I left Hazel’s house, I’ve left countless voicemails and texts. I also sent flowers and tried knocking again on her door.
No answer. I can’t say I’m surprised.
Mason scratches his chin. “Did you tell her you won’t do it again?”
“Yep.” Do I look like an amateur? “But it’s not like she’s gonna believe me. The guy who just lied?”
“Good point.” Jake frowns. “Did you have a good reason for lying?”
Now we’re getting into dicey territory. “Define good,” I mutter.
That’s meant as a rhetorical statement. I’m not expecting all three guys to answer at once.
