Trouble (Thornton Brothers #7)

1

GABE

I had been on my best behavior all day. I smiled for the photographs, hugged the happy couple, and offered my congratulations. I was the perfect groomsman, the perfect brother, the perfect son. But underneath it all, I felt like I’d been hit by a fucking bus.

I couldn’t shake the memories of the past. It felt as though I was trapped in some nightmare. Everywhere I looked, there was something to remind me that it could have been me.

My wedding. My wife. My life.

But instead, she chose to marry him—my asshole of a brother, Tyler. Sure, I wasn’t in love with her anymore, but I felt betrayed, and the events of the day stirred up old feelings I thought I had long dismissed.

I was fucking miserable.

Behind me, light spilled across the manicured grass, and music floated through open windows. I lifted my glass, drank deeply, and sighed. The thud of feet on wood echoed through the night as people danced, their laughter drifting on the breeze.

And I hated every whisper of happiness.

I knew I’d had too much to drink, but I didn’t care. I was past caring. I drained the rest of my glass, relishing the numbness it brought, though it didn’t dull the image of her walking down the aisle while I stood to the side, watching it all happen as if I wasn’t the one who loved her first. The one she loved first.

“My boy!” My father’s hand clamped my shoulder, startling me. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Like me, he had clearly drunk too much. If the smile on his face wasn’t enough of a sign, the sway in his posture was a dead giveaway. I hadn’t seen him this drunk in a while—not since he drove his car through the front window of the casino. Billie, his most recent wife, put her foot down after that, and he had toed the line—for a while, at least.

“It sure is wonderful,” I replied dryly. “A perfect day for the perfect couple.”

Hamish laughed. “Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?”

He was a real Sherlock Holmes, my father. His hand tightened on my shoulder, fingers digging into my skin in a way he likely meant as comforting. It wasn’t. It felt more like a clamp holding me in place.

“Don’t worry, son. Your time will come. You’ll get your fairy-tale ending, just like I did.”

I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Which time?”

Hamish narrowed his gaze. He wasn’t drunk enough to ignore the bite to my words, but he still answered as if it were a genuine question.

“With Billie, of course.”

I rolled my eyes as I lifted my glass to my mouth again, only to realize it was empty when nothing slid down my throat.

Billie was my father’s third wife and around the same age as my oldest brother, Tyler. She used to go to school with Lauren, the woman who was now Tyler’s wife. The woman I loved.

Correction—used to love.

I shook my head and turned my back on my father. “I need another drink.”

But his voice drifted after me. “We need to talk.”

“Not now, Dad,” I spat, the name coming out more as an insult than a term of endearment.

“Gable!” he snapped, and I reluctantly turned around. He stepped closer, swaying slightly, and placed his hand on my shoulder again. “Look, I know we’ve had our issues in the past, but we need to put all that nonsense behind us and move forward. Tyler is married, Jake has a child on the way, and you’re not a kid anymore. You need to grow up. Decide what it is you’re going to do with your life. Start acting like a man and—”

“Whatever,” I muttered under my breath, not quite drunk enough to say it confidently. The last thing I needed was a lecture from my father. My father who’d always preferred my brothers over me. My father who now had another baby son to take the place of the one he’d lost.

My throat tightened as I tried to push aside the thought of Clark. He should have been here. He should have been smiling in the photos beside me. In a few months, it would be the fourth anniversary of his death. It got to me. It always did. I still felt a stab of guilt whenever I thought about him, but my father was the one who should shoulder most of the blame—not that it occurred to him.

I shrugged off the grasp of his hand as he kept talking. “Tyler is taking over more and more of my role in the business. Jake has the gym. But what do you have?” If this was his attempt at a pep talk, he was failing miserably. “I’ve tolerated your laziness long enough. If you don’t want to—”

I snorted. “I co-own the gym.”

Hamish acted as though I hadn’t said a word. Of course he thought my role was unimportant. He thought I was unimportant. It was nothing new.

“You’ve got no drive, no motivation. That’s not how we Thornton men operate. We—”

“Enough!” I ran my hand through my hair, not caring that it would dishevel it for the rest of the wedding photos. “Why can’t you get it into your head that I’m not Tyler, I’m not Jake, and I’m certainly nothing like you.” I spat on the ground to emphasize my point. “I’m going inside to enjoy the rest of this fucking perfect day.”

“Gable!” my father barked. “There are important matters we need to discuss. I won’t always be around, you know. Gable, I’m not finished talking to you!”

I turned, walking backward with my eyes fixed on him. “But I’m done talking to you, old man. Find someone else to lecture.” Then I flipped him off and walked away.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow. I couldn’t deal with him. I knew it wasn’t his fault that I felt like shit, that our family was a mess, or that at times we barely spoke to each other.

Oh, wait. Yes, it fucking was.

Throwing open the double doors into the reception hall, I plastered a smile on my face. People expected me to be happy. It was a family wedding, after all, and I was the happy-go-lucky younger brother. The one who always had a grin on his face. The one who was always first to crack a joke. There was applause as I walked in, and for one slightly inebriated moment, I thought it was for me.

As if.

Everyone was crowded in a circle, watching and cheering as Tyler led Lauren to the dance floor. He took her in his arms, gazing deeply into her very soul and she stared back at him, love shining in her eyes like headlights on high beam. There were whispers and gasps. Murmurs of how happy they looked. How perfect they were.

I wanted to vomit.

I had long since admitted defeat regarding Lauren. But that didn’t stop me from hating my brother for taking her from me; I just hid it better. But today rubbed an old wound, and I struggled to conceal my pain.

I made my way to the bar. “Whiskey,” I said, my eyes still glued on the happy couple.

“For you, anything,” came the sultry reply.

I glanced up. She was pretty enough. Older than me by a few years, if I had to guess. Just like Lauren. I offered the bartender a wink. Maybe she was exactly what I needed—a distraction. Someone who didn’t know me. Didn’t know my history, my family, or my failures. She set the glass of whiskey down and returned my wink, placing her elbow on the bar and resting her head on her hand.

Flashes of who I was before I met Lauren flooded my mind. I was happier back then. At least it seemed like I was. I did what I wanted when I wanted. I did who I wanted when I wanted. I never tried to be mature or someone who I wasn’t. I wanted to be that person again. Someone who didn’t give a shit what other people thought. Least of all his fucked-up family.

Grinning lazily at the bartender, I was on the verge of engaging her in conversation when Amelia, my brother Jake’s partner, approached. I wasn’t sure if she realized it, but she cupped her hands protectively over her stomach. My gaze fell to the motion. She wasn’t showing at all, which surprised me given how she petite was.

“I’d kill for one of those right now, and I don’t even like whiskey.” She nodded at my glass. “It’s strange how you crave things more when you’re not allowed to have them.”

Her words took on a different meaning as my eyes drifted to where Tyler was guiding Lauren around the dance floor. The speeches had been made, the cake cut, and the dance was the last of the traditions. To be brutally honest, I was relieved.

I needed this night to be over—or at least this part of it.

Amelia patted my arm and raised an eyebrow. “You doing okay?”

“Fucking wonderful,” I slurred, and her frown deepened.

Her gaze followed mine to the happy couple, and she sighed. “Don’t worry, Gabe. You’ll get your happy ending.” She rubbed her belly as if reminding herself she already had hers. It didn’t escape me that she’d uttered almost the same words as my father.

I forced a grin and lifted my glass. “To happy endings and getting shit-faced!”

I downed the whiskey in one gulp, and Amelia's frown deepened further. She patted my arm again, not offering any further words of comfort. Across the room, Jake signaled; it was time for the rest of the party to join the dance.

Fucking awesome.

I looked back at the bartender, who was still standing patiently, waiting for me to notice her.

“Another whiskey?” she asked, pouring it without waiting for my reply and placing it over the ring of moisture left by my last drink.

I knocked it back quickly. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“You know,” she placed her hand over mine before I could pull it away from the glass, “I get off at midnight if you want to… hang out.” She shrugged.

I threw her another wink as I moved away. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Beside me, Amelia groaned audibly and rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it time you stopped sowing those wild oats?”

“I’m only twenty-three, Amelia,” I replied with a smirk. “There are still plenty of wild oats to sow.”

“Gabe!” Billie waved to me from the dance floor. “Hurry up! You’re my partner!”

“You’re being summoned.” Amelia nodded in Billie’s direction. “I can’t believe Lauren chose her stepmother-in-law as a bridesmaid.”

“Don’t think there was much choice in the matter,” I muttered.

My stepmother—my barely older-than-me stepmother—tapped her foot impatiently. Her eyes grew wide as she patted her leg like I was a dog she wanted to heel. She wore the same silver fabric as the other bridesmaids, but there was something extra about her. There always was. And I didn’t mean that in a good way. I wasn’t sure what my father saw in her. No, that was a lie. I knew exactly what my father saw in her. And it was embarrassing.

But that was my family.

As soon as I reached her, Billie grabbed my hands and wrapped them around her waist. “Do you know where your father is?”

“Nope,” I lied.

She sighed loudly. “He’s gone walkabout. He better not be drinking. The doctor said—”

“He’ll come back. He’s harder to shake than a bad smell. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Billie looked at me bewildered, then must have decided I was attempting to be funny because she threw her head back and laughed so hard she started to hiccup. Clearly, my father and I weren’t the only ones who had overindulged.

As the next song started, more guests joined us on the dance floor. Jake detached himself from the obligation of dancing with the matron of honor and held out his hand to Amelia. Peta, the matron of honor, found her husband among the crowd and pulled him forcefully onto the floor. Morgan, the bride's sister, rolled her eyes at her husband Alistair as he danced clumsily, and even the bride’s strait-laced mother joined in.

It was like we were one big happy family. But that’s not what I saw. I saw underneath it all to the betrayal, the jealousy, the feuds, and the rivalry. And they writhed in the pit of my stomach like a hissing snake.

“So when is it going to be your turn?” Billie asked, wiggling her eyebrows, or attempting to, at least. She’d had so much Botox injected into her forehead it was like the muscles glitched at the instruction from the brain to move.

“I think Jake’s next in line.” I struggled to make my words come out properly as I nodded over to where Jake and Amelia were dancing. They looked happy. Everyone looked happy. And slightly out of focus.

The song wasn’t over yet, but I unhooked myself from Billie, mumbled an excuse, and stumbled off the dance floor. The room started to sway. Those two shots of whiskey had pushed me over the edge. I grinned to myself. I needed this. This numb feeling. This not-giving-a-shit feeling. The feeling of recklessness.

“Hey.” Jake stopped me by placing his hand on my chest. “You okay?”

I looked up, because even though I was reasonably tall, Jake was unreasonably tall. “I’m fucking awesome,” I mumbled. I didn’t mean to mumble. I meant to say it in a way that was laced with sarcasm, but all my tone was laced with was alcohol.

“Are you really just going to leave without saying anything?”

I was confused. “Who am I supposed to say something to? Am I supposed to ask for permission to leave?” I bowed dramatically and swept my arm in front of Jake. “Oh wise brother of mine, may I have permission to—”

Jake yanked me back upright. “Get up, you dick. You’re making a scene.” His eyes darted around the room.

“I know!” I whispered loudly. “I’m drunk.”

Jake's bushy eyebrows knitted together as he shot a glance at Tyler, who was watching us. Gone was the doe-eye look of love from Tyler’s eyes and instead he was glaring at me.

Ah, there was the brother I knew and loathed.

“You should leave,” Jake growled, wrapping his fingers around the top of my arm.

“That’s what I was fucking trying to do,” I hissed back too loudly.

Tyler stormed over, walking like he had a stick shoved up his ass as usual.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I whisper-yelled to Jake. “You’ve activated the asshole.”

I could have sworn I saw the corner of Jake’s mouth twitch. The opening notes of Shania Twain’s “You Don’t Impress Me Much” filled the air, and Billie squealed with excitement on the dance floor.

“It’s her favorite song,” I explained to a confused Jake just as Tyler stopped in front of us.

“Everything okay over here?” Tyler’s voice was a deep growl.

I laughed and saluted, while Jake assured Tyler I was just leaving.

“Good,” Tyler grunted. “The last thing we need is Gabe making a scene.”

“The last thing we need is Gabe making a scene,” I echoed, mimicking his stern tone. Tyler opened his mouth to respond, but I pressed my finger to his lips. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m leaving now. You don’t need to worry about me causing a scene on your big night.” I glanced behind him and noticed several people watching us. Maybe it was too late to not cause a scene. “Enjoy the rest of your night, big boy.” I slapped him on the shoulder, but Tyler’s hand shot up, gripping my wrist tightly.

“That’s enough,” he warned.

“What’s enough?” I snickered. “I haven’t done anything. Well… aside from your wife.”

Tyler’s jaw bulged, but sadly, he didn’t bite. “It’s time you were leaving,” he growled.

“I’m trying to leave,” I replied, a bit more forcefully than I should have. Why could neither of my brothers get it through their thick skulls that this was the last place I actually wanted to be? All I wanted was to get out of there. They were the ones stopping me.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. The curiosity of the onlookers behind him intensified. I could feel them staring, shocked at my behavior even though it was far from shocking. I was a little drunk—so what? It was a wedding for crying out loud. And I was the brother who always caused trouble. It was practically expected of me.

I leaned in close to Tyler so no one else could hear, unable to stop myself from baiting the beast. “Lauren looked fucking delicious today.” I saw him tense. “A little hypocritical for her to wear white, don’t you think? I mean, even I’ve had her.” I landed the insult again, hoping for the reaction I didn't get the first time.

Tyler’s fist greeted me before I could even take a step back. It wasn’t much of a punch, and I smirked at him, resisting the urge to rub my jaw as Jake stepped between us. There was no need for him to interfere though. I’d gotten what I wanted.

Tyler’s jaw clenched as Jake’s hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, it’s not worth it,” Jake reassured him.

“Yeah.” The words echoed in my mind, twisting the intended meaning. “I’m not worth it.”