26. Jp #2
Gentry smirks. “Tell your sister…please. She’s already gonna kick your ass for day-drinking. Don’t need her pissed at me for letting you.”
I grunt, taking a sip, letting the burn sear through me.
The last thing I need is Daisy running her mouth, giving me shit. I love her more than anything but she’s always been a mother hen.
I just want to get so fucking drunk I forget why I ever cared about being anything other than the reckless problem I’ve always been.
I knock back half in one go, welcoming the burn, the way it scalds its way down my throat. I’m two drinks deep, staring at the big screen TV I’m not actually watching,when the bell over the door jingles.
And I know that scent.
Orange blossoms and bergamot.
And there’s only one person on this planet who can layer love and disappointment in her voice with such precision.
“Oh, good God, JP.”
I sigh.
Daisy.
My little sister breezes in, a stack of pizza boxes in her arms. I forgot that she delivers pizzas to Danver’s for their happy hour menu.
She stops short when she sees me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I grunt, taking another sip. “Hey, kid.”
She stalks over, plopping down onto the stool beside me.
“JP. It’s not even noon…what’s going on, big brother?”
“None of your damn business, Dizzy,” I mutter.
She smirks—that slow, knowing one she’s been perfecting since we were kids—but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
She’s concerned.
And that pisses me off even more.
“Oh come on, JP.” She slides into the stool beside me. “You’ve been stomping around Driftwood like a bear with a thorn in his paw for days. You don’t answer my texts, you ignore Gentry when she asks how you are?—”
“I’m fine,” I snap, sharper than I mean to.
She raises a brow, completely unfazed. “You’re drinking whiskey alone before noon. Super fine.”
I grunt and toss back the rest of my glass, waving it in Gentry’s direction for a refill. She catches it with a nod and grabs the bottle.
Daisy taps her chin thoughtfully, clearly enjoying herself way too much.
“Let me guess,” she says. “It’s got something to do with a certain cinnamon-scented Omega?”
I don’t say anything. I just stare ahead, jaw tight.
“God, JP, you’re like a cliché wrapped in a muscle tank. Just say it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grit out.
“You never want to talk about it,” she huffs. “Which is why you always end up in places like this, pounding drinks that make you broodier than usual.”
She leans forward, voice softening. “Look, I know you. Better than anyone. And I know this thing with Sterling isn’t just some heat-triggered fluke. You’re in it, whether you want to admit it or not.”
I open my mouth, ready to deny it—but Gentry returns with the bottle and pours me another glass before I get the chance.
I take it with a grunt and a nod, letting the silence answer for me.
“Talk to me,” she says a little more softly.
I scowl. “Why?”
“Because you look like shit,” she says bluntly. “And also because I’m your little sister, and it’s literally my job to keep your dumb ass from self-destructing.”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitches.
Daisy sighs, setting her basket on the bar and getting on the stool next to me, like she’s settling in for a long fight.
“Why are you fighting this so hard?”
I snort, shaking my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say immediately.
Lie.
She doesn’t call me on it.
She just hums, tipping her head to the side and looking at me.
“Jeremiah.” She looks at me with hazel eyes that are just like mine. But when she says my name like that, it immediately reminds me of Mom. And she knows I can’t ignore it.
“Because I can’t, I just can’t do it again.”
I grit my teeth.
“I’m not like Cass and Quinn,” I mutter, barely above a whisper. “I can’t?—”
I stop.
I can’t what?
I can’t let myself have her?
I can’t be what she needs?
I can’t survive another scent-match that falls apart?
Daisy leans in, voice gentler now.
“I know you like her, more than like her.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t.”
I glare at her.
She raises an eyebrow. “Come on, JP. What harm comes from just getting to know her? She’s actually pretty damn cool!”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “What harm? Jesus, Dizzy. You were there. You saw what happened to me last time I got involved with a scent match.”
Daisy sobers, her expression shifting into something serious, but soft, too.
“Sterling isn’t Jasmine,” she says quietly.
I clench my jaw.
“I know that,” I grind out. “But I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust that I won’t turn into the same reckless piece of shit I was back then.”
Daisy leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.
“JP.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “The difference is you and Cass were just kids. You weren’t in a pack, then. You were alone. You didn’t have Quinn. You didn’t have Blake. And Mom and Dad dying had just left you with a giant gaping hole where your heart was.”
She watches me carefully. Her eyes are soft and caring as they peer into mine.
“And you didn’t have her.”
My chest tightens.
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh, running a hand down my face.
“You want the real reason?” My voice is rough, low, gritted. “Because the second I let myself have her, even just a little bit? I’ll never fucking stop.”
Daisy’s expression softens.
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing, JP.”
I shake my head, tension locking up my spine.
“No. I’ll hurt her. Hurt the pack. I’ll fuck it up. I always do.”
Daisy reaches out, squeezing my arm.
“You’re not the kid you were ten years ago. Cass forgave you. I forgave you. The only person left that you need to make amends with is yourself. It’s okay to let yourself stop hurting and start living.”
I flinch. The weight of what she said sits in my chest like lead.
“When the fuck did you get so smart,” I ask.
Daisy stands with a goofy smile on her face, all the heavy seriousness gone just like that.
“I gotta get back.” She pauses at the door, glancing back at me. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Then she’s gone.
The sad truth is I’ve always been an idiot. And I don’t know how to not be one.