Kyrie yanks on Ashton’s hair, and the beautiful brunette smiles as she kisses the baby’s small fists. “I remember you and Finn had no idea what you were doing and absolutely refused to listen to me.” Honey-flecked brown eyes catch mine, and a little of the hurt that’s been lingering all day seems to ease. “I remember you insisting we needed to follow the instructions for high altitude. And I remember us making a mess.”
I wrap one arm around her and Kyrie and run the other over the back of Ashton’s head, pulling her closer, shocked when she lets me. She doesn’t push away. She doesn’t snap. She leans into me, and the scent of sweet cherries invades my senses. “Yeah, but you insisted a little extra icing could fix it.”
“It did fix it,” she reminds me while we both get lost in a memory so vivid, I taste the sickeningly sweet, burned cake on my tongue. “He ate two pieces that night.”
“Yeah, Ace...” I rest my chin on the top of her head. It was a good night. “He did.”
“And we lost him four months later...” Her voice cracks on the sob I knew was coming.
I hold Ashton and Kyrie while tears rack her body, knowing there’s no way to make this better. Not for her or for me. Not for the people who loved Evan, and we all loved Evan. He was as much a brother to me as Finn or Maverick and Ryker.
“I miss him so much, Jamie. I lost him, then I lost my family. Then I lost you,” she cries softly.
I can’t even deny it because she’s not wrong.
I wasn’t there for her because I was too busy avoiding her.
Not knowing what to say or do to make it better. Not knowing how... Just knowing what Evan didn’t want.
“I miss him too, Ace. Fuck. I missed him so much back then, I didn’t know what I was doing. We were all just kids. None of us knew how to process it,” I admit, thinking back to the conversation I had with Evan the afternoon before he died and all the ways I used that as my excuse to pull away. Wondering what he’d think of us now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled away. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“You didn’t just pull away, Jamie.” She steps out of my hold, and those golden eyes flare with fire. “You broke my heart.”
My heart fucking sinks because I always knew that was why Ashton Carmichael spent over a decade hating me. What shedidn’t know... what she may never know is that I was just honoring her brother’s wishes. “I know, Ace. I know, and I’m sorry.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Ryker asks as he sits down across from me, eyeing the bottle of whiskey and my empty glass in the dark room. He doesn’t bother signing. His hearing aids are in, and he’s positioned himself to read my lips. “What’s got you drinking by yourself on a Tuesday?”
I drag my hands over my head, unsure whether I can even pinpoint how fucked I feel. “Today’s Evan’s birthday.WasEvan’s birthday.”
Ryker sits still for a minute before he pours another two fingers of whiskey in the crystal tumbler in front of me and drinks it. Everyone remembers Evan Carmichael, and if you lived in Kroydon Hills, you remember exactly where you were the night he died. It made national news. Even if it was only us there. The four of us. Ashton, Finn, Evan, and me. Man, we spent so much time together in those days. And that one night broke us all.
“Damn. How’s Ashton?” he asks as he puts the crystal down, refills it, and pushes it my way.
I don’t bother answering.
“That bad?”
I swallow the whiskey and revel in the burn.
“Damn,” Ryker hisses. “Where’s Finn?”
“At the hospital.” The words taste like ash in my mouth, and I swirl what’s left of the amber liquid in the glass just to watch it spin. “He’s probably who she wanted.”
“Have you given her another option?” Ryker pushes, and my gut fucking churns.
“Fuck you, Beneventi,” I growl. “Have you ever wanted someone you shouldn’t?”
Ryker pulls the bottle away before I can reach for it. “You’re fucking drunk, Murphy.”
“And you’re not fucking wrong, asshole. Now answer the question.” My words are low and maybe a little slurred. “Wait. Don’t bother. I already know the answer.”
“You do. So how about we talk about you instead of me. Why shouldn’t you want her? Because from where I’m sitting, it’s pretty simple. Talk to Finn and then go get the girl. If there’s really a thin line between love and hate, she might as well already be in love with you, she’s spent so much time hating you.” He screws the cap back on the bottle and keeps it out of reach. “So tell me, what’s holding you back, Murph?”
“Evan.” One word. One conversation. The last conversation. The only one that matters.
“Evan’s been gone a long damn time. Are you really going to sit there and tell me he wouldn’t want you and his sister to be happy? He’d rather she kept hating you and you kept pining for her?”
“Pining?” I laugh. “Who the fuck says pining?”
