One Summer Isn't Enough (Summer, #4)

chapter 22

CONRAD

I'm sitting in the chair next to Jeremiah's bed, trying not to fall asleep in case Jere decides to come to consciousness anytime soon. I want to be there right when his eyes open. But so far, the notion is very much easier said than done.

I made Belly go home, because I know how terrible she feels about all of this no matter how many times I tell her that this isn't her fault. At all. And it really isn't. Even now, as I'm mindlessly fidgeting with the dog tag necklace Belly made for me during our honeymoon, her special words engraved just for me, I miss her and the comfort her presence always brings me.

Even though he's lying here in front of me and I've almost never been as scared as I am now, I can't help but feel really mad at Jere. Why didn't he just tell me? He's always been the golden boy solely because of how open he is with his emotions, especially compared to me. Why couldn't he be that now, when I needed him to be it the most?

As I sit back and watch his chest rising and falling softly, I think back to the day after I proposed to Belly. She had to go back to San Diego early in the morning for a publishing conference that was taking place in LA, and since I had the day off, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I drove up to the sleek, modern apartment complex where Jere lived. After parking and taking the stairs all the way to the fourth floor (great time for the elevator to be out of service), I knocked on his door–which I remembered from when he drunk-dialed me from a party and asked me to pick him up–and waited, holding my breath.

He opened the door, and I immediately took in his pajamas and scruffy hair. His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit as he looked me up and down, right from my plain gray t-shirt and dark blue jeans to my white Asics sneakers.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, somewhat harshly.

I decided to skip the pleasantries. I had shit to do, and playing nice older brother didn't seem to be a tactic that would help right now.

"Can I come in?" I ask, ignoring his question. It was probably better for his neighbors if we took this inside.

A steely look on his face, he stepped back and let me in, and I took in the takeout containers piled on the coffee table. As I made my way to the couch, the still-open laptop on the dining table next to an opened beer and refrigerator with about two-dozen sticky notes on it caught my eye and I had to stop myself from smiling. Same old Jeremiah. Meaning it would literally kill him to maintain an organized space.

Settling into the surprisingly comfortable sofa as Jere stiffly took a seat in an armchair across from me, I look down. "How've you been?"

He chuckled derisively and shook his head. "Con, you and I both know you aren't here to check in on me. So let's do us both a favor and cut to the chase. Why did you come here?"

I sat forward. "Fine. I have some news for you, but I don't want it to upset you. I just thought we owed it to you that you be the first to know."

The mention of the word 'we' got his attention. Slowly, he cracked out, "Is...is Belly..."

I shook my head fervently. "No, no, it's not that." He blew out a breath before I continued, "But...it is about Belly. I, um...asked her to marry me yesterday."

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I swear the whole room stood still for a second. The tension in the air was so strong, it was almost physically suffocating. I mentally counted to ten in my head to calm myself down, and then softly asked, "Jere?"

That was when I saw how white his knuckles were from threading his fingers together so tightly. He stood up and quickly walked over to the glass sliding door, and for a second I thought he was going to punch the glass. I was getting ready to stand up and stop him when he turned around and asked, his blue eyes blazing, "She said yes?"

Clearing my throat, I nodded and said, "Yeah."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Why did I even ask? Of course she did. She's been ready to say yes to you since she was nine."

I stood up and told him angrily, "Jere, you know that's not true. When you two were together, she loved you. She said yes to you. Don't talk about her like she's some desperate puppy."

Multiplying my angry tone by a thousand, he yelled, "Fuck you, Conrad! She didn't just say yes to me. She was going to marry me! The next day! Everything was perfect, and it was all laid out beautifully. But you had to bring in your sorry, depressed ass and profess your undying love to her the night before. Who fucking does that?!" He laughed lightly and then said, "Oh, yeah. I know. My asshole of a brother."

I tried to hold my temper in, but it wasn't working. Stepping closer to him, I say in a barely controlled voice, "Don't you dare blame me for ruining your wedding. You cheated on her. I trusted you to keep her happy, to be loyal to her, to be the man she deserved. Because I couldn't be that for her then. But you went and destroyed it, all because you wanted to get laid. So it wasn't me, Jere," I said, pointing at him, "it was you."
In an even tone, he said, "If you came here to beg for my blessing again, like you did when Mom was sick, then forget about it. I'm not coming to your fucking wedding, and I'm not going to say it's okay by me. Because it's not." Breathing hard, he continued in a wavering voice, "I already told you this, Conrad. You and I, " he said, pointing at us both, "are done. I told Belly, too. That you would end up letting her down. Like you always do."

"Jere, come on," I pleaded. "Please. Don't be like this. Do it for her. Be there for us. Your happiness matters so much to her, and if you leave it like this, she won't ever forgive herself."

Instead of the intended effect I was hoping it would have on him, he chuckled and looked up at the ceiling. "Conrad, you're acting like you both are the victims here and I'm the bad guy. You tossed her aside so many times, and broke her heart time after time, and I was always there for her to pick up the pieces."

He paused to take a breath before continuing, "She was so happy with me. You weren't there. We had so much fun together, all the time. And then you had to come in and steal her away, and she didn't so much as spare a glance at the person she was going to marry the next day." He paused again before saying in a wavering voice, "She tossed me aside. Just like you did to her." With that, he storms out of the room. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of the shower turning on and took that as my cue to leave.

That one line hurt me the most. Because he was right. I did toss Belly aside when things got too hard. I didn't once consider that she was going through the same shit as me, but she was putting on a strong face to help me through it. And even though Belly didn't toss Jere aside like he was saying, I could see how he felt like that was what happened.

Everyone feels abandoned at some point in their lives. But that doesn't give them the excuse to pull stupid shit and do what Jere did to Belly. With that, I closed the door to his apartment behind me and got back into my car, driving away before I did something stupid, like telling him he could have her back.

But now, as I'm sitting on this uncomfortable hospital chair, seeing my little brother–who I promised my dying mother I would take care of–hooked up to an IV because of something I did, it's too much. And I can't take it anymore–I bow my head and just cry. And cry and cry until nothing's left in me. With that, I stand up, kiss Jere on the forehead, and leave.