Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
JENSEN
My eyes scan the mountain, searching for Matt. The sun glares off the snow, forcing me to squint.
Shit. I lost him.
I finish the section of moguls and push to make up time, crouching low, leaning forward, catching speed. Matt’s a way better skier than me. He’s been doing this since he could walk. It was the one thing he did with his dad growing up that actually counted as quality time.
At the bottom of the hill, I finally spot him in his red boots, waiting for me.
I skid to a stop. “You’re too fucking fast, man. I don’t know how you go down those moguls like that.”
He grins. “Yeah, well, it was learn to go fast or get left behind crying. I chose the former.” He claps my back. “Kev and Jeff are inside grabbing a drink. You wanna hang or head back to the house?”
“I can hang for a bit.”
He asks because he can’t fathom being at a bar and not drinking. But that’s life now. And I’m fine with it. Not that the idea doesn’t sound good. There’s nothing like an ice-cold beer to warm your belly after a long day on the slopes.
I’m looking forward to spending time with Alley tonight, but I don’t want to pass up this much needed time with my brothers. It feels special, and I’m seeing it all through a clearer lens this week.
I follow Matt inside. He drops into a seat next to Kevin, and I slide in beside Jeff. They’ve already got beers in front of them, and Matt wastes no time, waving the bartender over to order two IPAs on tap.
Jeff glances at me. “You look happy, brother.” An awkward chuckle slips out as a grin spreads across my face. Jeff’s never been one for deep talks with me. Ever. “It’s nice.” He clears his throat, voice softening. “To see you happy again.”
“Thanks, man. That means a lot. Especially coming from you.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“’Cause you’re my big brother. It always means something when you give a shit.” I fold my hands on the bartop, eyes dropping to them. “I’ve always looked up to you, you know?”
Vulnerability burns through me. Jeff and I don’t do this. We stick to surface-level talks. Sports. Work.
“You’ve always had your shit together. Always knew what you wanted.
Never got in trouble. Never fucked up. You just…
knew how to navigate life. Amber’s lucky to have you.
I know I give you shit about being boring, but…
” I huff out a laugh. “Truth is, I’m a little envious you didn’t need rehab to figure it all out.
” One corner of my mouth lifts. “You’re a great dad too. ”
My gaze falls on his beer. Not because I want it, but because I realize something.
I don’t need a drink to have this conversation.
Or to laugh. Or to have wild sex with my beautiful wife.
Or to live fully. Maybe I’m not as steady by nature as he is, but that makes me a different kind of strong.
It hits me right in the chest—I’ve done some really hard shit.
And that alone makes me worthy of the same things he has.
The corners of his mouth pull up. “Thank you for saying that.” He takes a sip of his beer, thoughtful. “You know I’ve always been in awe of you?”
What?
He glances over, sees my surprise, and chuckles. “Don’t act so shocked. It’s not like you aren’t used to being everyone’s favorite.”
“Yeah, but… I always thought you hated that growing up.”
“Oh, I did. Megan too. But you’ve got something neither of us have.”
“What’s that? A roster of all the dumb shit I’ve done?”
He smirks, then shakes his head. “That too, but nah. You’ve got grit.
A determination not to fail that Megan and I didn’t get.
We’re motivated, sure, but not like you.
When you set your eye on something, by God, you’ll get it.
A scholarship, even with all the trouble you got into in high school.
Work. Alley.” He lifts his beer and nods. “Twice now.”
He tips back his glass, taking a long swallow before setting it down.
“Even in elementary school—you couldn’t spell for shit, but Thomas Sinclair made fun of you, and you came home dead set on winning the spelling bee.
Practiced every day after school, made me and Megan quiz you until we wanted to beat you with the dictionary.
” He leans back, folding his arms across his chest. “And then you won. Took first place. Won the fitness award every year, too. Proved every single person who doubted you wrong.”
I chuckle softly. “Well, Thomas Sinclair was a dick, and I lucked out in the physical fitness department. I guess I was fortunate in the gene pool.”
Jeff presses his lips into a tight smile, gaze dropping as he shifts in his seat.
When he looks back up, his eyes are glassy—and not from the alcohol.
He swallows hard. “I was one of those people. I questioned you. When you relapsed, I treated you like an imbecile. Because you were being one. And I’m sorry.
I was secretly praying Alley would leave your sorry ass, because I didn’t think you could do it.
Not after the relapse.” He gives me a small smile, then sniffs.
“I should’ve known better. You always find a way to come out on top. And I’m glad you did.”
Jesus Christ. The emotion blindsides me. My chest cinches tight, and I fight not to break down in the middle of this fucking bar. Jeff and I have always been close, but never in the deep, personal way I’ve always had with Megan. And now here he is, laying it all out.
“I… Christ.” My throat works to find words. “You have no idea what that means to me, Jeff.”
He lifts a brow. “I have an idea. You do look up to me after all.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and he stands, gesturing with his hands. “Come on, get up.”
I stand, and he pulls me into a brotherly hug, clapping me on the back. It’s stupid, but I’ve never felt more accepted than I do right now. For so long, he’s been the ideal I thought I’d never measure up to. But this? This is everything.
“I love you. And I’m proud of you.”
His words clog my throat. For once, I don’t feel like the fuck-up little brother. I feel like a man who’s finally earned his place. And it feels damn good. “I love you, too.”