Page 114 of Made for Wilde

“Jason, I’m sorry. I?—”

“Sorry?” Jason’s laugh is harsh, bitter, filled with a pain that makes my chest ache. “You got my little girl pregnant behind my back, and you’re sorry?”

His voice cracks on “little girl” and I see Charlotte flinch in my peripheral vision. She’s crying, hands pressed to her mouth, and the sight of her distress is worse than any punch.

His next punch connects with my ribs. The same spot as before. The crack becomes a break. I feel something give way inside me, a sharp snap followed by grinding pain.

The memories flash through my mind as the pain radiates outward.

Jason teaching me how to frame a house when we were nineteen. I can see it so clearly—both of us shirtless in the July heat, sunburned and covered in sawdust, arguing about the proper way to set a corner post. He was patient, explaining it three different times until I got it right. Said I was the brother he never had. We drank cheap beer after and talked about our futures, convinced we’d conquer the world together.

Jason standing beside me at my father’s funeral, the only person who understood how lost I felt. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or tell me it would be okay. He just stood there, solid and silent, one hand gripping my shoulder. When I finally broke down at the graveside, sobbing like a kid, he didn’t look away. Didn’t tell me to man up. Just let me fall apart and stayed right there beside me.

Jason handing me a beer the night Vanessa left. I was sitting in the dark, too numb to even feel angry yet. He showed up at midnight with a twelve-pack and said nothing. Just sat with me on the porch until dawn, his presence the only thing keeping me from completely unraveling. When I finally spoke, voice raw and broken, he just listened. Never once said I told you so, even though he’d warned me about her from the start.

Each memory is a knife twist. Each one makes the loss cut deeper.

And despite all of this, despite the physical pain and the emotional devastation, despite watching our friendship crumble before my eyes, I know something with absolute certainty.

I wouldn’t change a single thing.

Not one moment with Charlotte. Not one night of holding her in my arms. Not one conversation about our future together.

Yes, I betrayed my best friend. Yes, I crossed a line that should have been sacred. Yes, I’ve caused pain that can never be undone.

But Charlotte is worth it.

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and our baby represents a future I never thought I’d have. A chance at the family I’ve always wanted, with the woman I love more than my own life.

I would choose Charlotte a thousand times over, even knowing it would lead to this moment.

Even knowing it would cost me everything else.

“You were my brother.” Jason’s voice breaks on the word, pain slicing through his rage.

His fists drop slightly. His breathing is ragged. His eyes fill with tears and for a moment he looks like he might collapse under the weight of his grief. The anger is still there, burning hot, but underneath it is something more devastating.

Heartbreak.

“How could you do this to me?”

The words come out nearly as a sob, raw and broken in a way that cuts deeper than any of his punches.

“I’m sorry,” I manage through swollen lips and know the words are completely inadequate for an unforgivable sin.

Jason’s face twists. The tears spill over and run down his cheeks, mixing with the flush of rage.

He spits his next words like poison. “You think sorry fixes this? You think sorry gives me back?—”

His voice breaks completely. He can’t finish the sentence.

Between us, Charlotte sobs. “Daddy, please stop. Please.”

But Jason doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay locked on me, and in them I see everything we’ve lost. Every beer shared, every job completed, every moment of brotherhood. All of it burning to ash.

His next punch catches me in the stomach and doubles me over.

Air whooshes from my lungs. The pain is immediate and total, stealing my breath. My vision tunnels, narrowing to pinpricks of light in growing darkness. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. The world reduces to nothing but pain and the need for oxygen.