Page 139 of The Winslow Brothers

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m just having a good time.” Jude rolls his eyes and goes to stand up, but both Rem and I shove him back down.

“Seriously?” he questions, and we nod in synchrony.

“Spill it, man,” Rem says. “What’s up?”

When Jude doesn’t say anything, I call on the last-ditch effort and mention the name of the invisible elephant in the room.

“Where’s your friend Sophie?”

I don’t miss the way his eyes flash with the kind of pain I’ve seen before. It’s an acute agony of regret and misery—and the exact pain I saw over thirteen years ago when we had to tell Remy that his bride-to-be wouldn’t be showing up at the altar.

But Jude doesn’t respond. Instead, he just sits there. Mute.

“Dude,” Rem chimes in. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but you can’t hide from the fact that you look like a psycho. Like a man who is all screwed up inside his head and has bought a one-way ticket to Spiral Town, USA.”

Jude searches Remy’s steady gaze and then moves to me.

“Rem’s right, man,” I agree. “You’re a mess.”

“Oh, is that right?” Jude snaps. “But I thought you’d be happy about this, Flynn?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Youare the one who pulled me aside and gave me a real good talking-to, remember?” he announces, and every word is wrapped in sarcasm. “Told me I needed to be careful what myactions were telling Sophie. So, yeah, I guess you could say all thecarefulnessis what led me here.”

Rem’s gaze locks on to me. “What’d you say to him?”

Shit. I sigh. “I just tried to make him realize that bringing Sophie to our family thing was a big fucking step for him. And…” I shrug. “I mean, Rem, if you were paying any attention that night, you would’ve seen the look in her eyes, and you would know exactly why I said something. Even though, I have to admit, it wasn’t my business.”

“Definitely wasn’t your fucking business,” Jude retorts.

“I know, man. I’m sorry.” I raise both hands in the air and shake my head. “I shouldn’t have said shit.”

“Or maybe you should’ve,” Rem states. “And maybe Jude needs to buck the fuck up and tell us what really happened.”

“And why would I do that?”

“So we can help you, numbnuts,” Rem answers without batting an eye. “Because whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, you invited us here for a reason. And I’m certain it wasn’t to watch you play clown show on the dance floor. I mean,come on. Think about what’s going on here. How many times in your life hasFlynngiven you atalkthat was unnecessary? Words are like gold to this son of a bitch, dude. You know that.”

“Fuuuuuck.”Jude leans his head back on the velvet sofa and scrubs his hand down his face, and I roll my eyes to the ceiling. These guys think I’m quiet because they gossip and chatter like a group of high school cheerleaders.

The moment is long, but Rem and I just sit there, waiting patiently for Jude to work through whatever he’s currently battling inside that thick, stubborn head of his.

Thankfully, I only have to tolerate the sounds of two eardrum-destroying pop songs before Jude appears to have the“Aha! I need to just tell my brothers what’s up so I can stop looking insane”moment.

“Okay, fine.” He raises his hands and then slaps them onto his knees. “I messed things up with Sophie real goddamn bad.”

Rem quirks a brow. “And what do you mean by bad?”

“Fuckingbad,” he says, and that familiar pain is back in his eyes again. “I hurt her, and ever since then, ever since she kicked me out of her apartment with tears streaming down her cheeks, I feel like someone’s rearranged my fucking insides.”

I move to sit down beside him, wrapping my arm behind the back of the couch, while Jude leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands on a groan.

I pat his back with a supportive hand, and in typical Rem fashion, he takes the reins of the conversation.

“What hurt her?”

“Me,” Jude answers without reluctance and lifts his head back up to look at us. “Ihurt her. Because commitment isn’t my thing, you know.”

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