Page 25 of Insurgent

We all three went on different paths, but there’s one thing we have in common. We work hard to get to where we want to be.

I place my smoke on the ashtray, lifting my glass of whiskey. “So, what’s this news you’ve got? I know you didn’t come here to talk about Paul.”

Samuel takes another sip of his beer and exhales a quick, nervous breath as he looks at the bar. He then looks at me, pausing for a moment as his eyes study mine.

My smile fades.

“I’m going to ask Bexley to marry me.”

My brows lift, and to be fucking honest, I feel like he just punched me in the gut.

“I know I’m not good enough for her,” he says, looking at the label on his beer.

“None of us were good enough for her,” I say. His eyes bounce back to mine as I lift my smoke, taking a heavy drag, darting my tongue out to my bottom lip.

He blinks, his eyes scanning my face. I scratch my five o’clock shadow and flick my ashes into the ashtray.

I want to hit him.

I want to pound my fist into my brother’s fucking face until he doesn’t exist anymore.

What a horrible person I am. Why did she have to pick him? Why didn’t she move the hell away from Postings and do something with her life?

Samuel clears his throat. “I know you two always had this—”

“That’s been over,” I interrupt him. “We were just kids. What was once between us isn’t anymore.”

“Still, you two have a connection, Danny.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “Truthfully, I think if you would have fought for her more, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

My eyes dart to him for a moment, before I look at the TV hanging on the wall.Fought for her more?I went to jail because I fought for her so hard. I went to Moretti and tried to get out of this lifestyle for her, nearly getting myself killed.

I held her the night her mother died and fucked her any time she wanted. But none of that was good enough. Of course, he doesn’t know any of that. He also doesn’t know we met before they ever did. He doesn’t know that Bexley Walker holds one of my biggest secrets.

She’s a ghost in my life now. She visits me in my dreams. Sometimes I wake and I can smell her scent drifting in my room. The lake house is where I go to get away from time to time. It’s filled with memoires of her, of us together. It keeps me in line, reminding me that one day things will be different.

I hit my cigarillo, the burning end sizzling lightly as it glows red. “She doesn’t want me, brother. She’s with the man she loves.” I nod, exhaling smoke as I look over at him. “I’m happy for you.” I’m not, though, and those words taste like acid, burning my throat, but like I said, she’s made her choice.

“Thanks,” he says as he lifts his beer. “I really didn’t think this was going to go down this way.”

“What way did you think it would go down? Me beating your face in until you choked on your own blood?” I ask.

He laughs, but then stops when he sees my expression. Oh, how serious I am right now, but I smile and nudge his arm. “I’m kidding, Samuel. Lighten up, man.”

“Yeah, you seem like you’re kidding,” he replies, grabbing his beer. We don’t talk for a moment, letting the chatter from the bar kill the awkward silence that would be here.

I’m a ticking time bomb. I feel the buzz in the back of my spine, crawling around my nerve endings.

“So, when are you going to do it?” I ask.

“Tomorrow night.”

“All right,” I reply, looking back at the TV. “All right.”

__________

I’m not a man who gets drunk very often. I’ll have a drink or two, but I like to be alert. However, tonight is not one of those nights. It’s late, and I’m the only one at the bar besides Mae. She walks from the back. I sit with a joint between my lips, looking over at her from the stool I occupy. Music drifts from the speakers. It’s a slow tune.

“Dance with me,” I say, sliding off the stool.

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