Page 149 of The Future Play

He laughs. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an asshole.”

Pete snorts at that, and Josh punches him in the arm.

“I’m not. Not totally. Yes, I can be a dick sometimes, but you’re my sister. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I take another bite of pasta and shrimp, savoring the delicious garlicky flavor. “Can I ask you guys a question?”

They both meet my eyes.

“Sure,” Pete says.

“Do you… do you think people can suddenly fall out of love?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, but I know what you’re asking me,” Josh says. “And I can tell you I didn’t fall out of love with Jace. As much as I wanted to be, I was never in love with her to begin with. So don’t use that as an example.”

“Looking around at the people in our lives, I believe that love can last,” Pete says. “But it can also fade if you don’t take care of it. You have to be willing to fight. Look at Mom and Dad.”

I scrunch up my face. “What do you mean?”

“You’re probably too little to remember, but they fought all the time when we were kids. It wasn’t until I was a lot older that I asked Mom why that stopped. She said they started going to counseling and prioritizing their relationship again,” Pete says.

“Wow.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think the love between you and Jamie is fading, but it needs some TLC,” Josh says.

“Look at you being wise,” I tease, trying to cover the achiness in my voice.

“After all these years, I was due.”

“Thank you both for being here for me. It means a lot.”

“We’re dumbasses like ninety-seven percent of the time, but we’re here to help if we can,” Pete says.

I go back to eating my pasta, something like relief settling in my chest. Nothing fixes heartache, but pasta and having the support from my family that I’ve wanted for so many years helps a little bit.

Jamie

Everything is fucked.

My agent and the Metros PR team handled the photos of me, making it clear it was just a friend helping me home, and I issued an apology for underage drinking and promised to set a better example in the future.

I also had the pleasure of my dad going up one side of me and down the other while my mom reminded me that drinking only worsens mental health.

Yet here I am, staring at a glass of whiskey at ten in the morning.

How the fuck was it only yesterday that Amanda said she needed space and walked away from me? I have to play a game today, but how the hell do I do that when everything else is a mess?

I reach for the glass, but before I can pick it up, a hand swipes it from me. I have a full jump-scare moment wondering who the fuck is in my apartment and how they got in here, but then I look up and see Aaron.

I still don’t know how he got in here, but at least he’s not here to kill me.

Most likely.

“That’s a bad idea,” he says as he dumps the alcohol down the drain. “This cocky, pain-in-the-ass seventeen-year-old told me once that alcohol doesn’t solve problems.”

I grunt at that. “How did you get in here?”

“You have me on the approved list. I told them I was here to surprise you and they unlocked the door for me.”

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