Page 47 of Third Time Lucky

ASHER

Fucking, Aaron. Despite Lucy’s reassurances that we were just in discussion, yesterday felt like our first real fight.

All because of Aaron and his fuckboy ways.

I hated it, feeling like I’d somehow let her down.

I would never hurt Lucy, and now I’ve got to make sure Aaron doesn’t via Madi?

It’s so fucking complicated. I already warned him about this, yet his mind is on himself as usual, and now he’s fucking up my life too. She’s not wrong about that.

She and Madi spent last night together, probably burning Aaron’s voodoo doll in a trash can somewhere; who knows?

He didn’t call me last night either, so I’m totally in the dark here because I tried contacting Lucy, but she hasn’t answered my calls, which is understandable considering she’s been busy.

When she finally did respond to my text messages, her responses were short.

My emotions are in turmoil – I’ve fallen hard for this girl, and now I’m a complete mess.

I don’t want to lose her already. A part of me hopes she needs time to process her thoughts and recognize my innocence.

She had her heart broken recently. I get that, and I’m willing to prove whatever she needs and go as slow as necessary to reassure her that I’m on her side. She deserves that.

Yet, I just spent an entire night with my mind swirling, while doubt and uncertainty took hold of me, and now I’m questioning whether I have unknowingly contributed to this predicament without realizing it.

I tell Aaron to shut up when he’s crude.

But it doesn’t stop. Maybe I need to be a better brother and dig a little deeper.

And I’ve got the perfect opportunity to do just that because he and I are at the restaurant officially moving in, putting the final touches on everything.

Our soft opening is in two weeks. I wanted to test the waters before I put the word ‘grand’ on anything – that’s scheduled six months out.

I meticulously place my prized collection of knives on the magnetic strip next to my station, each blade gleaming and reflecting the warm glow of the kitchen lights as I wait for him to arrive.

‘Moving day!’ Aaron calls as he walks in the front door.

‘Moving day,’ I repeat, forcing a smile at his enthusiasm, trying to push aside the tension that lingers between us – tension he probably doesn’t even feel because, for him, blocking a number solves all his problems.

We both get to work setting up the kitchen.

I steal glances at him occasionally, wondering if he even realizes the impact of his actions on my budding relationship.

Occasionally, I catch his eyes flicker toward me, a glimmer of guilt dancing in them before he quickly averts his gaze. So, we’re not talking. Got it.

‘What’d you do last night?’ he finally asks, his words slicing through the silence like a razor-sharp knife.

‘Stared at my ceiling,’ I mutter.

He raises an eyebrow in confusion. ‘Sounds like a blast.’

‘What about you?’

‘I went to a club and almost became the lord of the dance,’ he boasts with a smirk.

‘You’re definitely the lord of something,’ I mutter under my breath, mentally adding ‘idiots’ to the end of the sentence.

‘What was that?’ he asks, giving me a stern look.

‘I said?—’

I choke on my words, feeling like a piece of gristly meat is stuck in my throat as I try to address the situation. God, I hate this. Fighting with people who I love. But I need to call him out for his womanizing ways.

Pause, Ash. Find the right approach. I notice all the knives on the butcher block before him and watch as he runs a cloth over them one by one until they shine. It gives me an idea.

‘Would you rather be dismembered or mutilated?’ I blurt out impulsively.

Playing ‘Would You Rather’ was our go-to game for killing time as kids. As adults we often play just for fun. I’ve heard all kinds of shit and thought of things I otherwise probably wouldn’t have.

He rears his head back, looking at me with concern.

‘Do I live if I’m mutilated?’

‘You’re horrifically maimed. Your face, once recognizable and “pretty” is now a grotesque jigsaw puzzle of scars and disfigurement,’ I say. ‘No one would ever recognize you.’

‘Just dismember me then,’ he says. ‘My face is half of my personality, so if it’s gone, butcher me like an animal and be done with it.’

‘I suppose your precious manhood is the other half?’

He bristles at my words, wounded pride apparent in his eyes.

‘Damn, bro, what’s up with you?’

I shake my head as if nothing is up. But everything is. This man is fucking up my world and his.

‘Would you rather murder or be murdered?’

He scrunches his face. ‘You’re morbid as hell today,’ he spits out. ‘I’d rather murder if I could get away with it.’

‘You wouldn’t. I’d turn you in without a doubt.’

He gasps. ‘We are brothers. Your answer is supposed to be, “how deep should we bury them?”’

I shake my head.

‘Would you rather be intelligent but hideous or stunningly beautiful but utterly dumb?’

He scoffs at my question. ‘I’m already both,’ he boasts arrogantly. ‘Next question.’

‘Are you, though?’ I challenge him, knowing full well that his ego could use a good deflating.

‘You’re being a douche,’ he snaps back at me.

I nod, smirking triumphantly. ‘Would you rather have someone call you out on your stupidity or remain willfully ignorant?’

Finally, he stops what he’s doing and turns to face me directly. His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes me.

‘Do you have something to say, Wright?’ he demands, sensing there’s more behind my questions than idle curiosity.

‘I do, actually.’

‘Then fucking say it.’

I meet his gaze head-on and take a deep breath, ready to finally address the elephant in the room.

‘Your toxic, fuckboy ways are creating possibly irreparable damage to my brand-new relationship,’ I seethe.

‘How’s that?’ he retorts.

I roll my eyes in exasperation. ‘Let’s see, you fucked her maid of honor the moment you met her.

Now you’re attempting to ghost the same woman after weeks of sleeping at her place five outta seven days, and the other two nights, she’s at yours!

You’re basically living with her, and now, in true Aaron style, you’re going to fake your own death and hope someone else might be dumb enough to fall for your playboy ways again ? ’

‘I only faked my death once, for a good reason; that girl was nuts,’ he says as if it’s normal, hopping up onto the counter of his workspace.

‘Stop manipulating, Madi. I’m tired of making excuses for you.’

‘You don’t make excuses for me,’ he says.

‘Yeah, I do; you just don’t hear them because your mind is constantly in “get laid” mode.

Women are not just objects for your pleasure to be tossed aside when you’re done.

Your constant display of horniness in front of any female is not only embarrassing but also downright disrespectful and I can’t wait for the day when one of these girls gives you a “Brandon” moment. ’

‘Jeez, asshole, tell me how you really feel, would ya?’

‘Great. I was hoping you’d say that ’cause I’ve still got some shit to say.’

His eyebrows shoot up his head with surprise.

‘You have no regard for anyone else’s feelings but your own selfish desires, making you a narcissistic, heartless man.’

He gasps. ‘I am not selfish.’

Not selfish, but he doesn’t argue the narcissism or heartlessness? My jaw drops.

‘You hunted me down while I was on a date to get my advice on something absolutely stupid because I didn’t answer my phone. That’s not selfish?’

He shrugs.

‘Silence is golden, I like that. Listen closely. Your insatiable hunger for validation through manipulating women is disgusting and degrading. And, to top it off, you have a loyal girl who puts up with all of your bullshit, and yet you have the audacity to ignore her like she means nothing because you’re scared of how you feel about her.

Now, Lucy is questioning whether I condone this behavior – which I don’t – and I’m pretty sure she’s worrying that I’m like you. ’

Aaron’s face twists into a mask of fury as he listens to my tirade, finally understanding the depth of my anger. He looks like he’s been slapped hard. ‘You think I’m a terrible person, don’t you?’

‘No. But, I do think you might need a girl like Madi. She’s smart, independent and likes your dumb ass. After all, brothers grow up and get their own lives. And one day?—’

‘You won’t be around to keep me alive?’

I sigh. ‘I’ll always be around, but yeah.

Eventually, we all gotta grow up. We’ve gone from sous chefs to this.

’ I motion around the restaurant. ‘If you don’t want to be with Madi, tell her.

Use your big-boy words. If you actually like the woman like you’ve insinuated you do, worship her.

She might be the only woman to see past your pretty exterior. ’

‘Fuck.’ he groans. ‘Why must you believe in love? And why did I get the looks and you get the emotional and mental stability?’

I roll my eyes. ‘I even love you, toolbag.’

A hard edge replaces Aaron’s usual easygoing demeanor. He seems on the verge of saying something for a moment, but then he clamps his jaw shut and turns back to his work. I watch as he cleans a knife with a furious intensity, each stroke more forceful than the last. And great, now I feel bad.

‘I’m not saying you’re a bad person, Aaron…

just misguided,’ I speak softly, trying to reason with him.

‘It’s fixable. We’re men now, real adults.

We can’t ignore our problems or run from them because they’ll always follow.

We have to own up and fix ourselves because nobody’s saving us.

You need to confront whatever made you like this. ’