Straight Up Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 2)

“Does something like that usually change?” My voice cracks—my insecurities peeking out into the darkness.

“She rejected you and married someone else. For most guys, that would do the trick. Especially after five years.”

“She’s not married now.”

Molly squeezes my shoulder, and the dome light comes on as she opens her door. “Yeah. And you’re not most guys. Night, Jake.”

Jake

Five years ago . . .

She’s marrying Harrison. She’s marrying Harrison, and she doesn’t want me.

I’m a mess. All I can do is repeat the ugly truth to myself again and again until rejection sits in my stomach like an undetonated bomb. I feel it there—a heavy obstruction ticking ominously with every second since Ava asked me to leave. At any moment, it’ll explode and tear me to bits.

I do what any grown man does when faced with heartache and rejection. I go to the bar with the intent of getting as shitfaced as possible. I slide onto a stool, wave to Cindy, and order a beer and three shots of whiskey.

“You’re not kidding around tonight, are you?”

I’ve been so wrapped in my own world, my thoughts racing at a hundred miles per hour, that I didn’t even realize someone took the barstool beside me. It’s Molly, Ava’s stepsister. Her platinum-blond hair is down around her shoulders, her big blue eyes dancing with amusement.

“Hey, Molly,” I say. Cindy slides my drinks in front of me.

“Let me guess,” Molly says. “A girl has you twisted in knots, and you’re trying to forget her.”

“Wow. You’re a fucking psychic,” I mutter. I throw back the first shot and wince. I’m a beer guy more than a liquor guy, and that shit’s intense.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“Ava’s engaged.”

“I heard that.”

I try to laugh and produce nothing more than a few pathetic puffs of air. “I’m not handling the news very well.” I’m surprised to hear myself say it—surprised I say anything at all. I didn’t come here intending to talk about my problems with anyone, let alone Molly, who’s practically Ava’s nemesis. The girls get along, but sharing a father—step or otherwise—they’ve always been incredibly competitive with each other. It’s a competition Ava’s sure she loses again and again, but I’ve never believed that.

“Are you going to tell her how you feel?” Molly asks.

“Already did.” I take the next shot, and this time the trail of fire into my stomach feels great. If I have to feel the tick, tick, tick of the bomb lodged there, I’ll drown it in booze. “I told her I loved her.” The words are a dull, serrated blade scrubbing down the center of my heart. “She did not appreciate me sharing that information.”

“Jake.” Molly curls her hand around my forearm and squeezes. “I’m sorry. I can see how you feel about her, but maybe it’s better this way. Who knows if it would have even worked out between you two? And this way, you won’t ruin your friendship.”

“I think that ship’s sailed.” I take a breath. “I’m pretty sure I ruined my friendship the moment I decided to kiss her.”

She draws in a breath. “You kissed her,” she says softly. “Wow.”

“Too little, too late,” I mutter.

“She’ll get over it.”

I shrug, as if I don’t give a shit, and then take the next shot, proving I clearly do.

“Aren’t you going to ask what problems I’m trying to drink away?” Her lips twist into a smirk.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I’m acting like a dick because I’m in a dick mood.

Molly doesn’t seem to mind. ?

?Right. Well, I’m going to tell you anyway because no one else wants to hear it.” She pauses a beat and then meets my eyes. “My father—stepfather, whatever—is an asshole who tries to control my life, and my mother’s a doormat. I’m terrified of starting grad school in New York. Everything feels like it’s kind of . . . falling apart, and I really just want to be close to my mom right now, but I can’t because I can’t tolerate my stepfather.”