JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,53
walked away and I let her. And now she’s back in New York with her family, probably moved on with someone else. I fucked everything up because I can’t make myself commit.”
“You’re thinking too big about it, letting it overwhelm you. Marriage isn’t a death sentence. Being in a relationship isn’t a shackle. It’s the safety net that gets you through life.”
“Wow, that’s deep,” I tease, but I have to admit, he makes it sound kind of appealing. “How many chick flicks did you watch to discover that gem?”
Smith flips me off and snorts. “It’s a good thing I can’t get off this couch right now, or I’d beat your ass.”
“Douche.”
“Double douche.”
“We could go on like this forever,” Smith says wearily.
Then we both grin at each other.
I scrub the back of my neck. “Dad never dated anyone else. I always wondered if it was because Mom’s betrayal made him bitter.”
“I don’t think that’s it. He never struck me as bitter.” Smith leans back into his pillows and drops the remote on his lap. He eyes me. “I think he just knew that Mom was the one for him and he wasn’t interested in finding anyone else. But the truth is, we don’t know why she ran off and why he never fell for another woman. And we never will. She’s probably six feet under somewhere. And he’s not around to give us answers.”
I cram another handful of chips in my mouth. Chew in silence.
“But I don’t think Mom is the cause behind why you don’t want to settle down.”
That makes me pause. “What?”
Smith’s eyes drift closed. “Blaming her keeps you from having to own your decisions and take a chance on something. It’s easier to pin your lack of commitment on her than to admit you’re too afraid. That…that takes the responsibility of your…life right off your shoulders.” He yawns. “She’s just a crutch for you. You’re the one who’s the chicken fucker wimp.”
The words anger me. I feel my chest tighten in response. “You don’t know shit.”
“Sure I don’t. I’ve only lived with you my whole life, but fuck. You…don’t want to admit it, but you’ve changed since you started seeing Brooklyn. But what do I know?” Smith laughs, a sleepy sound. “I’m getting tired, dick face. I need to sleep.”
“You can’t get any dumber asleep than awake,” I needle him, but he hardly cares. I head out to the sound of his thick snores and walk to my car. His words echo in my head.
As I sit in the car replaying what we discussed, I keep thinking about her.
Brooklyn.
Imagine things I could have said or done differently with her, if I’d just had the balls.
I know now that I blew it with Brooklyn, that she was trying to be patient and wait for me to become the man she needed, but I never grew up.
In my mind’s eye, I can imagine myself telling her what she needed to hear, playing an alternate history of our relationship where I actually said and did the right things instead of all the wrong ones.
And at the end of my fantasy version of events, I’m asking her to marry me and she’s saying yes.
I blink away some tears and sniffle, then start the car.
It’s just a fantasy, I remind myself. In the real world, you screwed up and now it’s time to live with the consequences.
Another several days pass. Smith and I didn’t talk more about our late-night conversation…honestly, he probably doesn’t even remember it, given all the drugs he’s taking right now. But I haven’t forgotten.
No, the words have haunted me. Taunted me.
Because he’s right.
My failsafe for why I’m such a fuckup is because my mom abandoned us. So why should I bother taking a risk, taking responsibility? It’s probably going to end badly anyway. Why put myself through the danger of getting hurt or let down?
It’s the coward’s way.
I wipe off the small laminated menus and lay them on the tables. Aubrey did them while Smith was sleeping yesterday. Her shy smile as she handed them to me showed me her vulnerability. She knows I’ve dragged my feet about how different the bar is. How I’ve fought tooth and nail to keep the change from happening.
I can’t keep blaming my mom for my stubbornness, my resistance to change. Running the bar, being in charge of the numbers, has shown me that the proof is in the pudding. Our income is up. A lot.