Well, I hashed shit out while Alex sighed and reminded me how stupid other people were. It was like therapy, except with sports, beer, and a grumpy best friend.
I hadn’t realized how much those sessions helped until they ended.
Of course, that was assuming said best friend wasn’t the cause of my problems.
“Dude, you’re still on probation,” I said. “No sarcasm until you’re out of the woods.”
“That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“We didn’t have a deal.”
“Exactly.”
I glared at Alex. “You want me to forgive you or not?”
“I bribed you with VIP seats to the game, and you accepted. That means you’ve already forgiven me.” He smiled. “It’s called a shadow contract.”
I maintained my frown for another minute before I caved and snorted out a laugh. “Touché.”
I took a swig of my drink. I thought it would feel weird, slipping back into one of our old traditions after so long, but it was like time never passed.
My phone buzzed with a new text, and my lips curled into a smile when I read it.
Jules: How’s the bro date going? Should I be worried?
Me: TBD. Alex knows how to treat a guy right, but you’re prettier
Jules: Are you saying I don’t know how to treat you right??
Me: You spend half your time insulting me, Red
Jules: It’s not my fault you’re a masochist
Jules: Excuse me for catering to your kink *eye roll emoji*
Another laugh rose in my throat.
Me: That’s not my kink, sweetheart
Me: Maybe you need a reminder on what my kink IS
My hand around her throat. Her nails clawing at my skin. Her whimpers and pleas as I edged her toward insanity before I fucked the fight right out of her.
I sent the last message as a tease, but heat surged through my blood at the thought.
Jules and I hadn’t had sex since Ohio. Now that we were dating, I wanted to do it properly, and in a fit of sheer idiocy, I’d implemented a no-sex-until-our-third-date rule.
It was backwards as fuck, considering we’d already slept together, but it felt right. Or maybe I was a masochist. I was blue balling myself, and Jules wasn’t having a great time with the sexual deprivation either.
The third date rule wouldn’t be so bad if we had time to date. Unfortunately, neither my hospital schedule nor her job at the clinic gave two shits about our sex life, so we hadn’t even had our second date yet.
I wouldn’t be surprised if my dick mutinied before then. Just up and jumped ship due to sheer neglect.
The three dots indicating Jules was typing popped up, disappeared, then popped up again.
Jules: Yes, I do 😉
Jules: Better make that multiple reminders so I don’t forget
I suppressed a tortured groan.
Josh: You’re fucking killing me
Josh: Ending this before I have to sit through the rest of the game with a goddamn boner
Though it might be too late for that.
Jules: Coward
Josh: Tease all you want, Red
Josh: I’ll remember every word next time I’m fucking you
I shoved the phone in my pocket before I did something stupid, like bail on the game, drive to her house, and make good on my threat.
On second thought…
“Who’s the girl?” Alex’s words threw a bucket of cold water over my X-rated fantasies.
Baseball game. VIP suite. Reconciliation with Alex.
Right.
I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat, trying to hide the lingering effects of my texts with Jules. “How the hell did you know it was a girl?”
“Your face gives it away.” Below us, a collective groan erupted in the stadium when the Dodgers scored another run. “So, who is it?” Alex faced me, a touch of curiosity warming his cool green eyes. “You looked disgustingly besotted while texting.”
“I did not look besotted.” I finished my beer and reached for another one. Was it my fifth or sixth? I wasn’t sure. My tolerance had jumped, and it took a lot to even get me buzzed these days. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Next time Ava texts you, I’ll take a picture of your face so you know what you look like.”
Instead of taking the bait, Alex tipped his head to the side. The curiosity sharpened into knowing. “It’s not just sex. You’re dating her.”
Motherfucker. “I never said that.”
“You implied it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
I released an aggravated sigh.
Man, fuck having a best friend. They were overrated know-it-alls.
“Fine. I may be dating someone.” Trying to outargue Alex was like trying to nail jelly to a wall—futile and a waste of time. “You don’t know her.”
“Don’t be too sure. I know a lot of people.”
“You don’t know her.” If I told him, he would tell Ava, and I would rather guzzle a gallon of filthy Potomac River water than have that conversation with my sister.
Now I understood how she’d felt when she’d been dating Alex behind my back.
“Hmm.” He leaned back in his seat, his eyes piercing through my skin. “Josh Chen dating seriously. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Sometimes, people change. And sometimes, they meet people who make them want to change.”
“And sometimes, people sound like a human fortune cookie.”
Except for a few rare gems, Alex’s advice swung from wildly disturbing—like the time he suggested I blackmail a professor who had it out for me because I’d corrected him in class—to irritatingly vague.
“Speaking of change…” I hesitated before continuing. “Michael’s been sending me letters. I haven’t opened any yet, but I might visit him soon. In prison.”
I hadn’t even told Ava yet, and I wasn’t sure I ever would. She’d finally moved on from what Michael did; I didn’t want to drag her back into that mess.
However, that meant Alex was the only other person who might understand the significance of what I was saying.
He stilled, his features hardening until they appeared carved from stone. Michael may not have murdered his family, but he had tried to murder Ava. It was an equal offense in his eyes.
“I see.” Zero inflection. “When are you visiting him?”
“I don’t know.” I stared at the field without really seeing it. “Next day I have off, maybe. Don’t even know what I’ll say to him.”
So, how’s the food in prison?
Hey, Dad. Did you always want to grow up to be an attempted murderer, or were you inspired by the true crime shows Mom liked to watch?
You’re a piece of shit and I wished I hated you as much as I should.
I rubbed a hand over my face, exhausted just thinking about it.
I needed to talk to him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to.
Alex was quiet for a long moment before he surprised the fuck out of me by saying, “Maybe you should open his letters.”
A startled laugh escaped my throat. “Are you shitting me? I thought you would try to discourage me from seeing him.”
“He’s a piece of shit, and I would happily watch him bleed if I could,” Alex said coldly. “But he’s your father, and as long as you avoid confronting him, he’ll always have a hold on you. The bastard doesn’t deserve it.”
It sounded disturbingly close to Jules’s advice.
Intellectually, I already knew I needed closure, but hearing Alex lay it out in such stark, unsentimental terms hit hard.
“Yeah.” I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling, giving up any pretense of watching the game. “Is it bad that part of me wishes he had a good excuse for doing what he did? I know nothing can excuse it, but…fuck. I don’t know.” I rubbed my hand over my face again, wishing I could articulate the turmoil eating away at my insides.