The Best Mistakes (The Amherst Sinners Series Book 3)

by Elena Monroe

  I sat at the desk, kicking my feet up, as Aspen and Caden reached for some kind of plan as to what they’d do without Maddison’s boss.

  Of course they both looked at me to come up with some kind of plan, like neither of them had a bad bone in their bodies.

  “Just relax. He’s back in 15.”

  Aspen paced the whole time. Caden looked like he was way too thrilled to be there.

  Nostalgia was the opposite of a high; it was coming down and hitting every branch, reminding you of everything you don’t have anymore.

  I was about to break my damn phone as it buzzed in my pocket again. I yanked it out of my pocket this time, pissed off at the annoyance.

  Jade: Told your mom we apparently won’t be back tonight either. She added an emoji of a purple devil for effect.

  Me: Go fuck Hunter. I’m busy.

  I couldn’t ever push my jabs too far—not now. She was the mother of my child and forcing her to be a parent was the only stability in her life.

  An older gentleman opened the door and stood there, confused as to why we were in his office. He looked like an ex-athlete. He was tall and still had relatively more muscle than most middle-aged men. There was no iconic “dad bod” or any clues to connect him to children keeping him up at night.

  We all stayed still when his eyes locked on Aspen’s, a familiar face.

  “Aspen… Well, Jesus, son! What can I do for you?”

  Aspen only said one word: “Maddison.”

  He laughed and put his folders down on the desk, waving me from his chair with a docile hand that I ignored. “Oh, yes… I forgot all about her. Maddison quit this afternoon. I’m sorry, son. I guess she wasn’t cut out for it.”

  I could see red flush his pale skin as he heard him talk. “She quit… because you made sexual advances.”

  My eyes widened, as I stood up from behind the desk and barked, “Don’t be coy, just because the bastard is a family friend. He fucking touched her.” I came around the desk and slapped my hand on his shoulder.

  He nervously laughed, giving us all the confirmation we needed. I kept hearing the sound that a fist makes when it slams against someone else’s skin. It was egging me on, taunting me with memories of hurting Hunter for the same reason.

  I looked at Aspen, leaving the ball in his court. “What are we gonna do about that, Aspen?”

  I watched him wane away, like I was suggesting more than some heavy words. I didn’t plan on hurting this guy, even though I wanted to, and every angry memory involving Layla in the same position flooded my head.

  I wasn’t a saint, but I wasn’t that kind of sinner.

  My hands clutched his suit jacket, and I spoke more clearly than ever. “Okay, then… This is what you’re gonna do… You’re gonna hire Maddison back. She needs this job. She’ll be our little spy. If you touch anyone else, I will come back here and hurt you.”

  I watched him sweat, and his stale breath chapped his lips, as I scared him straight. The adrenaline tapered off and a sense a calm glossed over my whole body. This was exactly what I was after: the adjacent high that was squeezed from dangerous moments.

  I released my grip on him and let my gaze drop to the gray hardwood floor. I took a deep breath and let this feeling soak in.

  He fumbled the words: “She… she asked for it.”

  I looked up, slowly… honestly unsure if he said that out loud or I simply dreamed it up to prolong the feeling. Aspen was seething, but none of it made it to her boss. I watched Aspen’s body become so tense and stiff that I was uncomfortable pondering what he’d do next. Nothing responsible came after this kind of posture.

  I grabbed his dad’s best friend from college by the neck, holding him still for the punishment Aspen was seemingly preparing for. He didn’t move one inch; he was rooted to the floor, shaking with his knuckles now white.

  Our eyes locked, his were scared of himself, while mine were perfectly calm, despite their depth. In this moment, we knew that the mounting tension between us wasn’t actually tension, but our differences clashing.

  Caden’s sympathy spoke for him: “Ollie, relax. We’re just scaring him, not killing him. Damn.”

  I wasn’t afraid to pay retribution, to get my hands dirty, to be the reckless person I always was…

  This was water Aspen wasn’t used to swimming in, no matter how much he wanted to protect Maddison, no matter how much he wasn’t the timid, scared person I remembered him best as.

  I couldn’t let Maddison’s boss see us weak after Aspen chickened out. I let my knee collide with exactly what he was thinking with when he decided to fuck with the likes of us. I heard the guttural ache as he grabbed himself through his trousers, like it would subside the pain.

  I walked away, pulling my hood back over my head and creating distance from the scene. Caden and Aspen trailed behind me.

  It wasn’t until we got to my car in the garage that Aspen’s anger finally exploded.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he barked from behind me. It didn’t sound like a question, so I didn’t bother answering right away. “Seriously. Did you trade getting high for breaking the law?”

  I turned around with my unlit cigarette hanging from my lips. “I’ve always been this person, Aspen. The real question is: When did you start hating me for it?”

  Caden stayed out of it completely. He knew better than to get between a fight we needed to have. Best friends turned enemies didn’t suit us and that wasn’t going to change with docile voices.

  He scoffed, like he couldn’t admit to hating some part of me.

  “I don’t hate you. You lied to all of us about being sober, man. Layla didn’t deserve that, not after Hunter. I didn’t know about Jade.”

  I sat down on the hood of my car, continuing to light my cigarette, and my foot pressed against the bumper. “That’s what addicts do, Aspen: we lie.”

  The silence was heavy as I watched his hands cling to his hips, as his head dropped down. We both knew shit from five years ago didn’t matter, this fight, or even his rooting for Hunter’s happy ending.

  I stood up, burning through my cigarette quickly in the discomfort. “Are you done cheering on the enemy yet?”

  I swung my car door open, sliding in and waiting for them to get in so we could leave. I knew Layla wasn’t waiting for me, but I still planned on finishing where we left off.

  Aspen slid in, and I felt his hand pat my shoulder. “I know it feels like betrayal… I am sorry.”

  He waited before he spoke again, “How are things with Jade?”

  “You mean the person I have to force to be a mom to our son? The person I fuck, just because I don’t want to complicate shit? Well, ‘things’ are just Peachy.”

  I didn’t know how to feel, not properly anyways. Every feeling was new, shiny, demanding, and draining. Feelings were the very thing I avoided feeling… ever. Now every negative feeling stirred inside me, creating a hailstorm of doubt.

  Hunter probably was good for her. I had to decide if I loved her enough to walk away from her possibility of happiness.

  After that, the car only swelled with the sound of music. No one dared to talk.

  T he band was in full swing when Elizabeth leaned over, asking me for the hundredth time about Hunter. Despite his bad boy ways, she always had the smallest crush on him. Every time he swayed into the room, her eyes were glued to him longer than deemed socially acceptable, especially while in a serious relationship.

  “Nothing has changed.”

  My voice was curt, but the repeat curiosity among all my friends made me hostile. They couldn’t will me getting over Oliver if time couldn’t. I never said that directly to any of them. I was perfectly portioned to be understanding, not so direct, not allowing my voice to slice through bullshit.

  “But, Layla, he’s so hot…” she whined, like I was unaware of his classic good features.

  She was the only one who knew how deep our relationship really went in Oliver’s absence—not even Ma
ddison really knew. She only knew we were sleeping together regularly. That didn’t mean I wanted to discuss it every time we were alone.

  I quickly changed the subject to her pending wedding, which was something she could talk about for days straight with limited oxygen and on scarce attention.

  “You gonna hire this band or what?”

  “Avoiding… Deflecting… Projecting…” Her eyebrows were raised, and she was mocking me with psych ramblings. Even though I found myself sharing the wisdom with everyone around me, I could listen intently, give the most sage advice, and yet I could never help myself out of a paper bag.

  I turned to her, finally willing to give her any genuine piece of how I felt if it meant her dropping the topic.

  “I don’t know what I want. I don’t even know how I feel. Feelings have been dormant, but alive for five years, while Hunter is one of my best friends. I don’t have any answers, Liz. He has Jade, and that still doesn’t make choosing any easier, like it should.”

  Her fingers wrapped around my exposed arm, and her expressive eyes revealed only pity. She pitied me, having to choose between two men she felt fondness for—two men she had lusted for in similar ways, in the past.

  I stared an extra minute into her green eyes, searching for more than the flecks of gold. I was searching for any kind of answer; my heart desperate for any kind of clues outside of the muscle memory.

  The lights went down, and the next band was setting up to emerge onto the small stage, which was only a foot off the ground in the dive bar that had people scattered in each direction of the bar.

  We stood in the middle of the room, with our overpriced drinks, pretending we had it all figured out, when that was the furthest from the truth.

  I still felt the same as I did in college; I felt like I was always preparing to be an adult. I was still unsure of what made me an adult even five years later. I was on my own, paying bills, responsible… but I defined an adult as someone who had it figured out. I didn’t.

  Was stumbling through adulthood with someone the key? Marriage? Love? It must have been distracting enough. Everyone around me didn’t seem worried about figuring out anything. They were coasting…

  I turned to Elizabeth, realizing my self-reflections were only pulling me from my job here tonight: maid of honor. She turned to me, still looking for something in my eyes when I asked her about her fiancé instead of the pity party.

  “The wedding is gonna be here in no time. He ready?”

  She looked at me deviously and with a small twinkle in her eye. “He’s been well-trained.”

  I was still worried. If college taught me anything, it was: once a troubled boy, always a troubled man.

  I learned the hard way, and I thought Elizabeth had too.

  I hadn’t spent much time with Leon. I didn’t vet his presence in her life. I didn’t grill him on his intentions, or what the boys did when Leon escorted her to the first group, event post college.

  No one trusted him, and they were all firmly team Oliver—except Elizabeth, apparently.

  I trusted her. She was free of ulterior motives. If Leon proposed and she said yes, then I was supposed to hug her and help plan. So, that’s exactly what I did. No questions, no worries, no judgment.

  I did wonder why she was hellbent on making it all happen so fast, but it wasn’t my place to criticize her flight or fight skills. Mine drove me from one tall, dark, and troubled to another. Mine was clearly broken.

  “This weekend I’m gonna have the girls together over to our place for planning and wine. You’ll be there, right?”

  As soon as I went to answer, I felt small arms wrap around my torso, and I could smell her signature scent of cinnamon and coconut. Maddison was a tropical dream, at all times. We had no use for candles in our apartment.

  “I made it! I was waiting for Aspen, but he wasn’t back yet. He can text me.”

  I had forgotten Oliver led the crusade to avenge Maddison’s honor against her touchy-feely boss. I wondered how that went, even though I knew trouble wasn’t actually just trouble. These boys wore trouble like defiant teenagers; they owned it.

  Maddison was the life of the party, downing cocktails, and she was the only person in the room moving to the music. She was carefree at all times, even after quitting her job, even as she was staring the unknown in the face.

  It made Elizabeth and me quake.

  The conversation was centered around the wedding of her dreams, complete with two flower girls, her nieces, and waiters in suits. Her dream wedding was big and came with a pretty big price tag to match.

  She gushed about Leon’s dad footing the bill so their money could go towards their forever home.

  She landed on her feet, even after Hurricane Oliver and the threat of Flood Hunter.

  All of a sudden, Hayley slammed down in the booth next to me, without any grace at all. Despite our rocky start in college, we were much closer now. Both of us had the least demanding jobs in the group, which left us being the only ones at happy hour too many times. She may have still been tolerating me, but at least now I could see the hatred less clearly.

  “I’m late. I know. Save the dramatics. There was a buyer last minute.”

  Hayley’s art was taking off. She worked in the gallery part-time, in exchange for showcasing her art, free of charge. The art world was cutthroat and just as shady as the entertainment industry.

  Apparently artists are charged fees for the space of wall that their paintings could hang from, and they were also charged a finder’s fee when they sold.

  She never complained out loud. She was lucky to be selling, but when our eyes met, I always knew it was for a lot less than she was worth.

  Elizabeth’s side eye was hair-raising at Hayley’s greeting. I snickered to myself, knowing she wouldn’t apologize, not for anyone.

  There was mood boards, magazines, and alcohol scattered on the table as we all sat in the booth. Liz had heard enough of their music, and now she was all business. She made a point of giving the band’s manager her business card and a price associated with her request on the back. She was convincing, and denying it was only a weakness in the other person. I had no doubt they’d be the band at her wedding.

  The only one missing from the bridal party was the bride’s sister, Addileigh, or “Addi” for short. She was a new breed of wild, young, and unapologetic. The blonde, feisty, younger sister was attending our old stomping ground, Amherst College, as a freshman. I had only met her a handful of times after Liz got engaged and always at various times of stress: finding a venue, picking flowers, and the brunch when she announced it to their combined families.

  She was flaky at best, and from what I knew, she sounded like the kind of trouble Liz loved to invite too close to her.

  Trouble like Hunter and Oliver.

  I watched Liz look towards the door a few times before giving up and diving headfirst into dress ideas.

  I pulled out my phone finding her sister’s contact before texting her: We’re all at the bar. Wedding planning. Do you plan on coming?

  I didn’t expect a text at all, but the three dots continued to blink like a caution sign. There was no preparing for Addi.

  Oh, shit. I’m pulling my panties up. Thank god I’m in Boston already. Send me your location.

  My mouth dropped open, not needing the details she gave. That was Addi though; she gave you all the gritty details just because she could get away with it.

  She went through boyfriends and hook ups like pain, sex, and love wasn’t unanimous. She had an ironclad heart—never getting hurt, always hurting.

  I said in Liz’s direction, “She’s on her way.”

  She squeezed my forearm, knowing who I meant before I poured a hefty amount of wine. Being an adult had its privileges. Wine was cheap fun, and it didn’t come with frat parties or drama.

  Only a few songs later, Addi stumbled in on her long legs, pulling down her skirt that she knew was all jumbled from her latest activity. She slid in nex
t to Maddison, immediately reaching for the wine, even though she wasn’t of age.

  No one wondered how she got in or stopped her from drinking.

  “You’re late,” Liz said harshly.

  Addi smiled, while pushing the glass to her lips. I didn’t understand their relationship. My theory was Liz was the perfect child, while her younger sister gave up living up to her image. That kind of pressure could kill every purity in a person.

  She was a great actress if she wasn’t this person under all her layers.

  Comically, that was her major: theater. Then again, I never knew what to believe and what was simply embellishment.

  “My prof was in town, and I couldn’t pass up a booty call.”

  The dress decision took over again, lifting the heavy tension between the sisters. My overthinking mind raced through professors at Amherst, trying to figure out which one could be her type, besides Oliver. Every prof I had was on a serious dad level, down to the personality and body. None of them even warranted a second glance, except for Oliver… and he was in town.

  I excused myself, heading straight for the bathroom, ready to throw up all the unwanted feelings as I jumped to conclusions. I squatted down in front of the toilet, focusing on the water in the bowl, trying to calm myself as I felt the dampness coat my arms and forehead.

  Nothing came up as I waited patiently for my stomach to relax.

  I splashed water on my face, and when I looked up, Liz was behind me, staring critically at my reflection.

  “And here I thought I was the only one secretly knocked up.”

  Every other distracting thought was pushed out of range, as I swiftly turned to face her. I was awestruck and quiet, waiting for more.

  “You’re the only one besides Leon who knows, not even the Sinners.”

  “Oh my god! Liz! Holy shit…” I blurted out, with a clearly shocked expression. That was all I could formulate before I hugged her.

  “I’m only 9 weeks, so don’t get too excited.”

  I clamped my hand over my mouth, still not grasping this new reality.