The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

“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?”

“Fucking bad,” 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. “I hurt her. Because commitment isn’t my thing, you know.”

“You sure about that, bro?”

“Of course, I’m sure it’s not my thing.” Jude scoffs. “Never has been. Never will be.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“For lots of fucking reasons, Rem,” he retorts. “Because I saw the bullshit Dad put Mom through. Because I saw what happened to you. No fucking thank you. I’m just fine with the way things have always been. I don’t need anyone or anything else.”

“Well, to be honest, bro, you’re looking exactly like I did thirteen years ago.”

Jude’s head jerks back. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you’re sitting here like a heartbroken son of a bitch.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are,” Rem disagrees on a snort. “And trust me, I know, because I’ve been there.”

Jude doesn’t say anything to that. He just sits there, looking like a man who’s currently in the middle of a difficult revelation.

And Rem stays patient, giving him a few minutes, while I continue to play my usual role. The strong but silent brother who is there for support but only says things when he really means them.

“Falling in love with someone, being in a committed relationship with someone you love, isn’t a fucking death sentence, Jude. And just because Charlotte and I didn’t work out doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give a relationship with someone like Sophie a chance,” Rem says eventually. “Who, by the way, seems really fucking awesome.” His tone is quiet, but his delivered words pack a sucker punch of an effect on Jude—his mouth creases down at the corners, and his eyes briefly go shut.

“She is.” The anguish in his voice is palpable.

“Then, if I were you,” Rem continues, “and I had someone like Sophie who wanted to be with me so much that it actually caused her and me physical pain for things to end? Then, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d be trying to make it work with her.”

Jude scoffs. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I would,” Rem answers so easily that I almost believe him. “Stuff that went down in my past doesn’t mean shit about your happiness, Jude. If Sophie means that much to you that it’s made you look like a fucking lunatic over the idea of not being with her, then I don’t think you should waste that opportunity.”

Jude grows quiet for a long moment, but eventually, the hints of a smile touch his face as he so obviously tries to derail the conversation. “Thanks for this,” he says and looks at both Rem and me. “For being here. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, man.” I clap a hand to his back, and then I show no mercy by pushing him right back to the important shit. “You know what you’re going to do?”

Jude shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking know. I feel like I’ve got a lot to think about. Hell, there’s probably a lot of fucked-up shit I need to work through.”

“Well, I could’ve easily told you that,” Rem teases, and Jude rolls his eyes and almost laughs.

But then a heavy sigh takes priority. “Man, I really messed things up with her.”

“Shit happens,” I tell him, something I do believe. “We all screw up at times. Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a second chance if we show we’re willing to apologize for it and put in the work to make it better.”