Page 73 of Shattered Dreams
What a jerk.
The front door opens before I get my shit together enough to get out of the car.
"Well, shit," Jake says, standing there looking older than he should. "Look what the cat dragged in."
My brother's got that same look he's always had—like he can see right through your bullshit. It makes me want to get back in the car and drive away, but my legs are already moving toward the porch.
"Hey," I call out because I'm real fucking articulate apparently.
He doesn't say anything else, just steps back and lets me in.
The house smells like home. The strong scent of garlic from whatever Mom's cooking. That fabric softener she's been using since we were kids.
Fuck nostalgia.
Memories are my ruin right now.
There are pictures everywhere on the walls. Me in my college uniform. Jake when he graduated. Us as kids looking happy, covered in dirt from playing outside all day. Seeing them makes me feel like shit.
"Come on," Jake says, heading to the living room. "You look like shit."
He hands me a soda. Not beer, which is probably smart since I've been drinking too much lately. We sit down, and it's quiet, but not the bad kind of quiet.
"How bad is it?" he asks.
I let out this laugh that sounds more like a grunt and say, "Fucked. Completely fucked."
"Yeah, I saw the news. Mom about had a heart attack seeing you like that on TV. She's used to watching you play football, not...whatever the hell that was."
"She doesn't hate me?"
"Nah. She's worried about your dumb ass."
I put my head in my hands. "I screwed it all up, man. Everything. The team, my marriage, everything."
Jake looks at me for a long time. "You always did this. Even when we were kids. As soon as something good happened, you'd find a way to mess it up. Like you didn't think you deserved it or something." That hits way too close to home.
"Where's Mom?"
"Kitchen. Giving us space to talk." Of course, she is. She’s still trying to take care of me even when I don't deserve it.
"I didn't cheat because I wanted to hurt Ava," I explain, and fuck, why am I telling him this? "I did it because...I don't know. Because everything was going too perfect, and I was waiting for it all to fall apart anyway."
"So you made sure it did."
"Yeah."
We don't talk much after that. The words are hanging there between us—So you made sure it did.Yeah, I did. I made sure my perfect life exploded before it could disappoint me first.
Jake gets up and starts clearing away the empty takeout containers from dinner. Chinese food by the look of it. I follow him to the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands, but he stops in the hallway, turning to me.
"You know what I don't get?" Jake begins. "Ava's a fucking unicorn, man. Smart, beautiful, loyal as hell. Put up with your shit for years. And you threw it all away for what? Some Instagram chick with fake tits?"
I wince. "It wasn't about her."
"Bullshit. You hadeverything. A woman who actually loved you, not your bank account or your fame. And you pissed it away for some wannabe influencer who probably can't even spell loyalty."
"Jake—"
