Chapter 14 Justice
JUSTICE
Song: Stick Season by Noah Kahan
She worth a fight to you?
Ifound myself at the place where my world had begun to fall apart—the bar.
I ordered a beer to have something in my hand as I stared unseeingly at the overhead TVs.
I had to break up with Hope.
My fame had exposed her to ridicule and humiliation. There wasn’t any question that the charges alleged against her were false—but that didn’t matter. The world would tarnish her with this brush and turn against her.
I’d seen it happen before and I refused to allow the media, the public, people who had no fucking clue about who Hope was, tear apart a woman who made me want to be a better man. The kind of man she deserved. The kind of man my parents had hoped I would become.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there before Beau slid onto the stool beside mine.
“Thought I’d find you here.” He nodded at my beer. “You drinking again?”
I shoved the bottle his way. “No.”
No matter how tempted I was, I wouldn’t go back down that road.
My brother made a happy sound as he sucked back the drink.
We sat in silence for a beat, both of us watching the game—though if anyone asked, I’d never be able to tell them exactly what sport was being played. My mind remained five miles down the road in an attic bedroom with god-awful wallpaper and far too much fringe.
That room would forever be where I’d found and lost my heart.
No, love didn’t happen this fast. It didn’t explode into your life like a fucking shooting star only to burn out because you’d dragged your partner into the spotlight, subjecting her to criticism she did not fucking deserve.
Her smile’s like peaches, sweet and divine…
My fingers itched for a pen to capture the lyrics rolling through my head. Lyrics that reminded me of Hope.
I need her like the earth needs the rain…
“Fuck,” I muttered, closing my eyes. Her presence lingered over every inch of this town.
“Yeah,” Beau said, tipping his beer toward the TV. “They’re doing terrible.”
We resumed our silent observation.
“Well,” Beau said when the game broke for half-time. “At least now you can find a proper girlfriend.”
I stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Ya know.” He waved his hand around dismissively. “One of those sexy model types. They’d look good at the Grammys draped across your arm.”
I gritted my teeth.
“I mean, you could have taken Hope, if she’d still have you. But she’s just not gonna fit in, you know? She’s too frumpy. Too plain. Too—”
My ass was off my seat and my fist planted in my brother’s face before the thought had fully formed.
Beau, never one to back down from a fight, bounced back swinging.
White hot pain burst across my jaw as he clipped me under the chin. I stumbled backward into a bar stool, grunting as I shook off the stars dancing in my eyes.
“She worth a fight to you?” Beau barked, as I blocked another of his powerful swings.
“She’s worth everything.”
Distantly, I registered yelling from the other patrons and the bar staff, heard someone call for the police, but I didn’t pause.
I wanted to hurt and be hurt on the outside as much as I was inside. I wanted to break down every fucking cell in my body until I was numb from the pain.
Beau swung again, but this time I was ready. I ducked under his arm and crashed into him, lifting him off his feet and taking him to the floor.
We rolled, crashing into tables and knocking over chairs as we fought for dominance, trading blow after blow.
“Admit. You’re. In. Love,” he grunted between punches.
“The fuck I am.” I shoved him away, but he grabbed me, holding me tight.
We never should have enrolled him in wrestling.
He slapped the side of my head. “Hope deserves better than you.”
“I fucking know!” I roared, bucking like a wild animal as hurt tore through me. The pain I’d been fighting, the guilt, the hurt, the overwhelming anger—it unleashed.
Beau went flying as I stood and reached for a chair, hauling it up and smashing it down over a table.
“You stupid fucker.”
I froze, ripped from the hurt by my brother’s voice.
Slowly, I turned to find Colt, Owen and Fletch standing in the door to the bar, their arms crossed as they glared daggers my way.
“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping the remains of the chair. “Fuck.”
Colt walked across the bar, his stride deliberate and slow. I swallowed, dipping my head to await the inevitable dressing down.
His arm wrapped around my neck, and he yanked me into his chest, crushing me against him.
A breath shuddered out of me, rattling in the silence of the bar.
“Let it out,” he murmured, holding me tight. “You didn’t cause their deaths, Justice. It’s time to let them go.”
Somehow my brother had cut through the layers of bullshit to the heart of the issue.
“You should have seen her face, Colt. Love fucking hurts.”
A wave of regret hit me, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of missed opportunities and shattered dreams. I’d been blind to Hope’s unwavering love, too fucking consumed by my own demons to see or appreciate the precious gift she offered.
Herself.
Every laugh, every touch, played like a bittersweet melody. The warmth of her smile, the silk of her skin—all lost to my stubbornness and fear of vulnerability.
How could I have been such a fuckwit to the woman who held my heart in her hands?
Colt clapped me on the back and stepped away. “Of course it does. You hurt because you care, and she matters to you. If you didn’t, I’d be worried.”
I blew out a breath, running my hand over my bruised face. “What the fuck do I do now? She’s hurting because of me.”
Fletch shrugged. “Damage has already been done. You can’t put it back in the box, Justice. You gotta work out how to take her pain and make it less.”
I swallowed. “I don’t know how.”
Beau clapped a hand on my shoulder, grinning through the blood running down his face. “I might have an idea.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and gave it to me. “She’s already told you.”
I glanced down at the screen, chuckling when I saw her books on there. “You knew.”
“It wasn’t that hard to figure out.” He took back his phone. “Go write her an ending that’ll make her swoon.”
I glanced around at the bar and grimaced. “Shit. I better—”
“Go.” Owen shoved me toward the door. “We’ll clean up and add it to your tab—with interest, of course.”
I chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
As I moved to leave, Fletch reached out, squeezing my shoulder. “You gonna come home more often after this?”
I nodded. “Promise.”
And I swear he smiled.