The Bet by Max Monroe

Saturday, April 7th

Flynn

I pull my Harley to a stop just outside of Club Craze and cut the engine. The beats of house music pound from the inside of the building, and I’m already regretting agreeing to come.

I hate nightclubs.

Give me my bike. Give me the open road. Give me a roomful of people who aren’t drunk off booze and dry fucking one another, and I’ll show up with bells on.

But this awful scene? Busy nightclubs in New York City? They’re the last place a guy like me wants to be.

I hop off my seat, remove my helmet from my head, and secure it to my bike, before turning on my heel to face the madhouse. My black boots crunch into the gravel between the street and sidewalk outside of the club as I head toward the entrance.

Of course, standing behind the clichéd velvet ropes that are guarded by a pair of bouncers, there’s a line a mile long of people waiting to get the coveted invite inside.

I’m starting to feel way too fucking old for shit like this.

“Hey there. You’re the guy who just rode in on that hot Harley, aren’t you?” a female voice asks from behind me, and I turn around to find a skinny blonde with plastic tits standing there giving me the kind of come-hither eyes that say she’s down for a lot of things she probably shouldn’t be down for.

She’s attractive, yes, but not my type.

“Good God, I’d like to do more than take a ride on his bike,” the brunette standing beside her whispers loud enough for me to hear.

First of all, honey, I never take anyone on the back of my bike. And secondly… Well, confidence is one thing, but being this obvious and superficial is an absolute turnoff for a bastard like me.

But I don’t tell them that. Instead, always sticking with the priority of being a gentleman, no matter the situation, I simply offer a smile and move back to my task of trying to get inside this fucking club.

Once I’m standing closer to the velvet ropes, I grab the attention of one of the bouncers with a head nod. “Hey, man, I know you’re busy with all this—” I pause and glance over my shoulder “—bullshit.”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “What can I do for ya?”

“My brother told me to come by here and grab a drink with him,” I explain briefly. “Jude Winslow. You might know him?”

The bouncer nods, his face reacting in a similar way that anyone who knows my baby brother seems to do. “Ah, hell yeah! Jude’s a good time.”

Yeah. That’s what they always say too. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about Jude. He’s just so fucking lovable that it takes a serious effort not to like him.

I grin. “That he is.”

“Come on in,” he adds and moves the velvet rope for me. “Pretty sure Jude is in the VIP area.”

“Thanks.”

Once I make it into the club, the house music grows louder and more persistent inside my skull as I near the main area where the dance floor and DJ are located.

I almost pull out my cell and text my brothers to figure out how in the hell I’m supposed to find them in this chaos of gyrating bodies and drunken fools, but I get lucky when I spot Remy at the bar.

“You made it,” he says and claps a hand onto my shoulder when I step up beside him.

I did, indeed, make it, made obvious by the fact that I’m standing right here. I don’t bother acknowledging the evidence of my presence and, instead, move on to information I don’t know. “Where’s Ty?”

“Hell if I know. Said he had something come up last minute.”

I glance around for the man of the hour, the one who was annoyingly insistent on getting me to come here tonight. But when I don’t spot him right away, I meet Rem’s eyes again. “And Jude?”

My elder brother lets out a deep sigh. “Fucking hell. He’s a mess.”

“What do you mean?” I jerk my head back, and Rem simply tosses his thumb over his shoulder to lead my gaze in the direction of our baby brother, who is currently on the dance floor with a bunch of women surrounding him.

A bottle of champagne is in one hand as he shakes it up and squirts the liquid around on the crowd before him.

“Ah, fuck,” I mutter.

“You said it, brother. That’s spiraling if I’ve ever seen it.”

“What happened?” I ask just as memories of my conversation with Jude outside of Marco’s start to float around inside my head.

Don’t tell me I had a part in this meltdown…

“Not sure,” he answers with a shrug. “Been trying to figure that out for the last hour, but the train wreck is just chugging along, as you can see.”

Honestly, I’ve been feeling guilty about that conversation ever since it happened. I make a point never to put my nose in my brothers’ business. That’s Remy’s and Winnie’s job, not mine. But there was just something about his recklessness with Sophie that didn’t sit well with me.

She seemed like a really nice girl, and the more I saw the way she looked at Jude, the more I started to get worried that Jude wasn’t keen on what was really happening.

I look back at the dance floor just in time to see a woman with long red hair sidle up to my brother. She’s in the shortest dress I’ve ever seen, and she’s doing everything in her power to get Jude’s attention.

When he looks at her, he smirks, even lifts his bottle of champagne into the air and pours her a long drink. But then something changes. He shoves his bottle of liquid courage into the chest of a random, dancing man a few feet away and proceeds to put as much distance between himself and the flirtatious woman as he can.

What is he doing?

I furrow my brow and look at Remy.

“I know, man. He’s all over the place. One minute, he looks as if he’s trying to flirt with every skirt in the room, and the next, it’s as if he remembers he wore his chastity belt tonight.”

Jude has always been a panty-charming kind of guy who downright revels in female attention. And that redhead is a woman I’d expect to see him go home with once last call was announced from the bar.

But he’s avoiding her—completely—and it tells my strong intuition everything I need to know.

Shit. This is exactly what I was hoping it wasn’t…

“I think even a blind man could put these puzzle pieces together.”

Rem’s eyes move off the freak show our brother is putting on in the center of the dance floor and back to me. “Wait…you think you know what’s going on with him?”

“C’mon, Rem,” I say through a harsh laugh. “You can’t be that dense, bro. There’s only one reason for a man to look like that, and it’s got tits.”

“Oh no. It’s that woman he brought to Lexi’s competition, isn’t it? Sophie, right?”

I raise my eyebrows and lean into a hard stare that Remy can read well enough. If the reason for this breakdown isn’t her, I’ll donate my left nut to scientific research.

“Well, shit, Flynn,” Rem mutters and looks out at Jude again. “I think it’s safe to say this won’t resolve without an intervention.”

“Copy that.”

Just like we’ve done what feels like a hundred times before—though, most of them occurred when we were all in our early twenties and Jude and Ty were acting like drunken idiots—Rem and I stride away from the bar to remove our brother from the crowd.

Rem on one side, me on the other, we slide our arms beneath his shoulders and drag the mess off the dance floor and up to a quieter, calmer area with fewer distractions.

Jude bitches and complains the whole way, but we ignore him and the curious looks we get from clubgoers. And we don’t stop until his ass is firmly on one of the couches in what I’m assuming is the VIP section he said he set aside for us tonight.

He glares. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“That’s funny. We were hoping to ask you the same thing,” Rem comments with a smirk. “You’re a goddamn lunatic tonight, and it’s high time you tell us why.”

“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?”

“You are 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 my actions were telling Sophie. So, yeah, I guess you could say all the carefulness is 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 has Flynn given you a talk that 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?”

“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.”

But my truth doesn’t stem from things like love. It’s more of a blanket statement about life in general.

“Do you think I’m in love with her?” Jude asks so quietly I almost don’t hear him, but Rem is quick to volley that question right back.

“Do you feel like you are?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters and stares down at his clasped hands. “I’ve never been in love before. How would I know what it feels like?”

“When it’s good, it feels like you’re fucking flying.”

Jude quirks a brow at Remy. “And when it’s bad?”

“Like someone rearranged your insides,” he repeats Jude’s earlier words, and by the outright shocked look on my youngest brother’s face, it’s safe to say they hit the nail on the head.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and Rem looks over at me, his eyes silently communicating what I’m already thinking—Jude’s in love.

The poor bastard.

“I definitely need a drink now,” Jude grumbles. “You guys want anything?”

I shake my head, but Rem says, “I’ll take a bourbon.”

And once a cocktail waitress Jude waved down brings them their drinks, the mood lightens enough for Rem to ask, “So, how did you meet Sophie, by the way?”

“Oddly enough, it all started with a bet with this dancer Mav—” Mid-sentence, Jude just stops talking, and his face scrunches up in a combination of terror and shock.

“Jude, buddy? You good?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“I…I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have to go,” he says and hops up from the couch. He starts to walk away from us but turns back around to say, “Tell them to put your drink on my tab.”

“Where the fuck are you going?!” Rem shouts toward his retreating back.

“Somewhere important! I’ll call you tomorrow!”

And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd without any further explanation. Leaving Rem and me with gaped jaws and puzzled eyes.

“Well, shit, I guess he’s done for the night.”

I glance at Remy, and a shocked laugh hops out of my throat. “Yeah, but I guess it’s better than seeing him walk around this club like an angry lunatic.”

“I hear that.” Remy chuckles. “You think he’s heading in Sophie’s direction?”

“No fucking clue.”

“Do you want to stay here any longer?”

I smirk. “Hell no.”

“Same.” Rem grins and lifts his glass in the air. “What do you say, after I finish this bourbon, we head out of here and grab something to eat?”

“I’m down.”

But as we sit there, I can’t stop myself from asking him something that’s been bugging me since I heard him trying to talk our brother off the ledge. “So, tell me, did you believe all that stuff you were saying to Jude? About how if you were in his shoes, you’d be trying to make it work with Sophie?”

“Fuck no,” Remy mutters. “No offense to Sophie, because she seems like an awesome girl, but love has never done me any favors. And I don’t plan on being a fan of it anytime soon.”

I grin. And also, I can’t find it in me to disagree.