I lied to Jolie. Well, I did and I didn’t. It wasn’t exactly a hardship to love her, but it wasn’t always easy either. There’s a special kind of pain when you have to watch the love of your life live their life with someone else. It’s hard to put into words—and fuck have I tried—how much of your life hangs balancing precariously between satisfaction that she’s happy and cared for and blinding jealousy that you aren’t the one making her happy.
Trent used to hate how much I’d do for Jo and Robbie, but he didn’t get it. He’d never loved anyone until Becka, and even now, I’m still not sure he’d get what it’s like. By helping Robbie when he forgot to get her a birthday gift or didn’t want to celebrate a holiday, I was selfishly making it a better day for Jolie. I got to watch from the sidelines, knowing I was the one who put that smile on her face or the joy in her eyes, even if everyone else thought it came from Robbie.
It was me.
And I fucking lived for those moments where I got to be the one providing for her, whether she knew it or not.
But now that I’ve had her for real, tasted her, felt her pulse around my aching dick while she came from what I’d done to her, I realize how horrible my life was without her. My measly existence was like an emaciated dog who’s been unloved by his owner. But now I’ve been fed, and I can never go back to that existence.
I won’t sully Robbie’s memory by talking shit about him or telling Jo all the ways he didn’t provide for her like I will, but I will step up to be the man she deserves.
The letter Jolie found addressed to me sits unopened in front of me. I’ve been too chickenshit to open it. Too raw from still missing him. Nearly every childhood memory I have includes Robbie—hell, every adult memory too. He was a stabilizing presence in my life, and I would’ve given up anything for him.
I gave up the most important thing for him.
I wasn’t ready to read his words knowing it would be the last bit of Robbie I’d get in my life. But if I’m going to move forward with Jolie, I want to do it with a clean slate, and that means reading what he wanted me to know.
Tris,
If you’re reading this letter, that means I’m gone. I kicked the bucket, gave up the ghost, breathed my last. However you want to say it, I’m dead. I knew it was coming. Well sorta. Hopefully I’m not that young when I go, but I knew my odds of outlasting my dad’s age weren’t likely. I asked my doc to run some extra tests because I started to worry about what happened to my dad, and she found a gene that makes me more susceptible for a variety of different conditions that make an early death more likely.
Jo and I have been trying to have a baby (she’s pregnant as I write this), and it got me thinking about making sure she’s taken care of in case anything happens to me. I’ve set up some life insurance, so she’ll be set financially. She’ll probably want to take a break from photography for a while, but don’t let her give it up forever. She loves taking photos and she’s fucking good at it. Keep her as the tour photographer so she can keep building up her portfolio (and so I know she’s being looked after).
Since I’m going to be gone by the time you read this, I feel like this is probably the best time to be completely honest with you. I know you’re in love with her. I’ve always known. I knew you liked her the first day she started school with us. You never said anything, but I knew you and I could tell.
But as much as I loved you like a brother, I fell hard for her, and I hope you’ll forgive me for not following bro code, but I couldn’t let you have her. I wanted her too much and she seemed to like me back, so I went for it. I thought you’d move on eventually, and the guilt wouldn’t eat at me, but you didn’t, and it did. I can’t say I’d go back and do things differently, because I wouldn’t. I love that woman more than anything in the world, and I won’t regret the life I’ve made with her. But I hate that it hurt you in the process.
I have no doubt that in my absence you’re already looking out for her. I hope you’ll tell her how you really feel (maybe not right away—let her grieve a little first). I know if anyone will love Jolie like I would’ve, it’s you. I’ve written her a letter too and given her a little push to move on and find love again. It should be you she does that with. Don’t love her from afar for the rest of your life, okay?
I love you, Tris. Thanks for being the best friend a guy could ever ask for. Life would’ve been hell without you.
-Robbie
I read it four times. And it doesn’t get any easier to swallow. There are two things my brain is struggling to wrap my head around—Jolie was pregnant, and he fucking knew.
He knew how I felt before he ever made a move. I stepped back as soon as I found out he was into her, thinking he’d gotten to her first. How the hell did he know? When he introduced me to Jo, that was the first time the three of us had ever been together. Had he seen me coming out of class staring at her one day? Did I say something when I didn’t realize it? How the fuck could he know and not tell me?
I’m shaking from a mix of betrayal and rage. I let her go for him. I let her go for him.
Not anymore.
I’m done feeling guilty for loving her, for making her mine, for all of it.
I read the letter one more time because apparently I like to torture myself, and this time instead of focusing on the betrayal, I focus on the pregnancy. Jolie was pregnant when he wrote this, but how far along? When did she lose it? She’d never willingly give up a connection to Robbie, so I know however it happened wasn’t her choice. I rack my brain for any hint she was going through more than simply grieving for her husband. No signs stand out. She was a mess for months after he died, but there were no hints she was grieving two losses—although I’m not sure how I would’ve even been able to tell.
Fuck.
How long has she been dealing with this secret by herself? It kills me to think of Jolie suffering alone. I hope she at least talked to her mom about it because it’ll kill me if I find out she’s been bearing this burden alone all this time.
But while I feel like I let Jo down, Robbie definitely let me down. He’s not who I thought he was, and his betrayal is making me feel adrift without a life raft. I can’t make sense of it because I never in a million years would’ve thought he was capable of that.
Except, ultimately none of it matters, because in the end, Jo chose him anyway.
I drop my head in my hands and struggle to breathe as I come down from the high I’ve been on since the first time I made love to Jolie a week ago.
She chose him. She chose him back then, and if given the choice, I have no doubt she’d choose him now. I need to keep my expectations in check or else she’s going to rip my heart to shreds, whether she intends to or not. She’s only doing what Robbie encouraged her to do.
I need to remember that I’m just the consolation prize.
I struggle to hold it together during band practice the next day. I’ve got too much on my mind, and not even the good morning text I got from Jo could wipe away the clouds that seem to be lingering over me since I read Robbie’s letter.
As Kasen and Miles head out, Trent grabs my arm, holding me back.
“What’s going on with you today?”
“What do you mean?”
He arches a brow. “Why don’t we skip the part where you try to feed me some bullshit answer and you just tell me what’s going on.”
I don’t want to talk about Robbie’s letter yet, but I should tell him the truth about how things have changed between Jolie and me. I’m not ready to tell the rest of the band yet, but I want to tell my brother.
“Jolie and I are dating.”
He stares at me like he didn’t hear me.
“Trent?”
“Since when?” he asks, his words slow and composed.
“Since I asked her out. After the last time you and I talked about her.”
He runs his hand over his mouth and jaw before blowing out a breath. My anxiety triples from his reaction. This is not the happy-for-me response I was hoping for.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Are you serious? You can’t even be happy for me for five fucking seconds before you start questioning it?”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to wrap my head around this, and honestly, I’m a little worried.”
“I’m not going to fuck things up with her.” I don’t tell him my doubts because it would only add credence to his argument.
“I’m not worried about her,” he says slowly. “I’m worried about you. You’ve been in love with her forever. What if this is more serious for you than it is for her?”
My fists clench at my side, and I can barely get the words out as my emotions battle between angry and sad. “You think I’m just a rebound for her?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I’m just trying to make sure you’re in this with your eyes open. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t need you to protect me, you know. I’m a fucking adult.”
That seems to light a fire in him. “It’s my job to protect you! To look out for you!”
I step forward, chest to chest with my brother as I stare him in the eye and speak low. “No, it’s not. You’re not my dad, Trent. You’re my brother. Just be on my fucking side.”
He looks like I just punched him in the face, and I’m instantly hit with regret. We’ve both gone too far this time. Maybe I should go.
Without another word, I turn and make my way to the door. Trent’s voice stops me at the threshold. “I am on your side. Always. If she makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”
I can hear the apology in his voice, but I’m feeling too many things to turn around and address it. So instead, I give him a tight nod and walk out.