Regret and the Replacement

This is Jace. You two are a solid match. The man I loved for fifteen years smiled, shoving me toward a stranger. He leaned back against the leather sofa, casually swirling his whiskey glass, looking like he had finally disposed of a piece of cheap, old furniture. And Jace was the younger brother of the woman Sinclair spent his whole life pining for.

I looked at my new prospect. I pulled up the corners of my mouth. "Sure. Let's try."

Beside me, Sinclair's finger, idly tapping the glass, stopped dead.

Chapter 1

Sinclair's first love tied the knot. I thought my window had finally opened.

I spent half a month at his place. I watched him drink himself into a stupor, watched him rot on the couch, and watched the alcohol slowly leave his system. In the early morning light, he dragged me under his covers. His limbs tangled with mine, his grip crushing, pulling me against his chest like he was fighting for his life.

I pushed against his chest.

"Don't move, Sutton," he muttered, his voice tight.

Sutton. He hadn't said my name with that soft, lingering weight since Anastasia showed up. That tone was her exclusive property now.

The girl next door never beats the shiny new thing. Every time the thought crossed my mind, my chest seized. My nails bit into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped indents as my lungs forgot how to pull in air.

But she was married now. She was officially out of the picture. We could finally be together. Right.

A few days later, Sinclair took me out to meet a friend. A faint smile played on his lips as he introduced me to the guy. He told me the kid was young, but decent. A solid match.

We sat in a low-lit lounge. The neon signs bled colors across the table. I stared at Sinclair. He turned his head, meeting my gaze with his usual refined, gentle mask.

But beneath the surface, his jaw ticked. A fleeting shadow crossed his eyes.

I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel the burn of anger at being pawned off. My chest was hollow, scraped clean of any emotion.

This was his answer. His rejection. He had rejected me so many times over the years it was basically background noise. Somewhere along the line, the sting faded.

My stomach stopped dropping. I didn't even feel a flicker of bruised ego.

I gave up expecting him to love me a long time ago.

Sitting in that dim booth, staring at the man I spent fifteen years idolizing, it hit me. The love was gone. My pulse stayed perfectly flat.

The boy across the table looked at me. "Hi, Sutton," he said softly. "I'm Jace."

Jace. Anastasia's younger brother.

I kept my mouth shut, letting the silence stretch.

When I didn't say anything back, he blinked. He shifted in his seat, the leather squeaking under his weight.

Then he offered a crooked smile. "I'm the one who begged Sinclair to set this up. Please don't be mad."

Memory clicked into place. Back in my junior year of high school, I tutored him for his SATs. I was terrified of Sinclair and Anastasia getting too close, so I wedged myself into their orbit however I could. I forced Jace to memorize vocabulary flashcards.

When he refused, I recited the words directly into his ear on a loop. I ambushed him on his front porch every morning with a stack of index cards until he couldn't take it anymore. He memorized the entire deck just to make me shut up.

From what I remembered, he ended up getting a full ride to an Ivy League.

I pulled myself out of the past. I mirrored his smile. "So, this whole setup you're trying to hit on me?"

The back of his neck flushed bright red.

Beside me, Sinclair watched us. He lifted his glass and took a slow pull of his drink.

A second later, Jace squared his shoulders. "Can I?"

I caught Sinclair setting his glass down out of the corner of my eye. His index finger tapped a careless rhythm against the crystal.

Jace stared at me, his gaze heavy and heated, practically burning my skin.

I smiled. I scanned my own chest for any lingering bitterness, any desperate need for revenge. Nothing. Just an empty, quiet room.

"Sure," I said, my voice perfectly level. "Let's try."

Chapter 2

The tapping against the crystal stopped.

Jace froze. "Try? Try what?"

The flush crept right back up his neck as the words finally registered. "Right okay."

"I'm fresh out of dating experience," I said. "So let's start as friends."

Sinclair took another sip of his drink, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. "She's right. Zero experience."

A few careless words. That was all it took for him to brush off fifteen years of me practically bleeding to prove myself to him.

Out of the three of us, Jace was the only one who stuck to water. He offered to drive me home.

Sinclair had his private driver pull his car around. He watched me climb into the passenger seat of Jace's rugged Jeep. Standing there with one hand shoved in his pocket, he offered a parting piece of advice, his tone dripping with a twisted kind of charity.

"She has major trust issues. If you're going to be with her, keep your distance from other girls."

I knew his personality down to the bone. He wasn't mocking me. It wasn't until this exact moment that the reality clicked into place. He felt guilty.

My anxiety, the quiet panic attacks, the bone-deep inferiority complex that flared up every time Anastasia entered the roomhe hadn't been entirely blind to it. It was just that the other girl mattered more. The game was rigged before he even had to make a choice. The scales tipped in her favor a long time ago.

The Jeep's engine roared to life. Sinclair took a few steps back. Something crossed his mind, and he lifted his chin, locking eyes with me through the passenger window.

As we drove down the block, I checked the side mirror. His tall frame leaned against his car. He sparked a cigarette, the cherry glowing bright red in the dark.

A week after that night, Jace grabbed my hand. When he dropped me off outside my apartment building, he kissed me.

It was exactly the kind of kiss you'd expect from a guy his agea little clumsy, a little rushed.

He pulled back, his eyes darting away before snapping back to my face, his shoulders tense. "See you tomorrow."

Something tightened in my chest, a sudden, unfamiliar tug throwing my pulse off balance.

If I had fallen for a guy like this back in high school, maybe my entire life would look different right now.

I flipped my hand, lacing my fingers through his warm ones. I studied his face for a long second, a slow smile pulling at my lips. "We're in our twenties. Is this really how we're doing this?"

He blinked, totally lost.

"Come upstairs."

Jace's throat worked as he swallowed hard. I learned later that was his physical tell when he was turned on.

Honestly, in the beginning, I didn't plan on keeping him around for the long haul. He was four years younger than me. He was Anastasia's brother. Maybe he harbored a crush on his old tutor back in his awkward teenage years, but reality rarely matched the fantasy.

A hazy high school crush wasn't enough to make a guy stick around once he saw my actual flaws, the ugly parts of my personality.

But before I could blink, two months vanished.

He started bleeding into every corner of my life. He'd text me in the afternoon asking what I wanted for dinner. He waited outside my office building when I clocked out. We navigated the grocery store aisles together.

I washed the vegetables; he chopped and handled the stove.

One time, purely for convenience, I handed him a spare key without a second thought.

The second the cold metal hit his palm, we both froze.

His voice dropped a full octave, rough and raspy. "Maybe I should just move in."

"No." I shut it down.

"I'm joking," he shot back immediately. He watched my face, treading carefully. "What about the apartment next door?"

Chapter 3

I didn't give him a straight answer. Two days later, he actually hauled his boxes into the vacant apartment next door. At midnight, he knocked on my door covered in dust, asking if he could borrow my shower because his gas wasn't turned on yet.

He stepped out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Drops of water traced the rigid, carved lines of his abs. His dark eyes locked onto mine. He told me he didn't even have a mattress set up yet and asked if he could crash on my couch for the night.

He swore up and down he wouldn't try anything.

I tossed him a throw blanket. He hugged it to his chest and slept through the night. The massive guy curled his long frame into a tight ball on my tiny loveseat, looking pathetic.

I snapped a picture on the sly. The next day at the office, I pulled the photo up and let out a laugh.

My coworker teased me, asking if I was seeing someone because I looked a lot brighter lately.

Did I?

But it was trueI hadn't thought about Sinclair in a while. In the past, just linking his name with Anastasia's was enough to trigger a dull, suffocating ache in my chest. And the craziest part was Jace was her brother. They shared the same bone structure, the same eyes.

Over dinner that night, Jace gave me his best puppy-dog eyes and asked if I could spend his birthday with him the next day.

That was when the realization hit me. Sinclair's mother's death anniversary landed on the exact same day as Jace's birthday.

Every other year, I spent this day with Sinclair. I would call out of work, show up at his apartment door with a bottle of his favorite bourbon, and we'd lock ourselves inside for twenty-four hours. I'd sit through mindless Super Bowl replays with him, organize the chaotic stacks of paperwork in his study, and make him a steaming bowl of mac and cheese. I'd pull a blanket over his shoulders and watch him slowly drift off on the sofa.

Sinclair and I were the only two people who remembered his mother's anniversary. He told Anastasia once, but she brushed it off.

To the outside world, the trauma of his mother's suicide barely left a dent. Back then, rumors flew that she was the one having the affair, nearly abandoning her family to run off to the States with some other guy. So after she died, Sinclair showed up to class like nothing happened. Not a single crack in his armor.

But I saw the grief. It seeped into the way he stood, the way he moved, even the tight pull of his smiles. Women are absolute suckers for a man's broken edges. That was exactly when I realized I was falling for him.

I stared at the red dot on my digital calendar. I hit delete.

Today, I called out of work like usual, but I spent the entire day on the living room rug with Jace and two of his buddies, grinding through Call of Duty. We ordered two massive pizzas for lunch.

By early evening, my phone buzzed. Sinclair's name flashed on the screen.

"Why didn't you come?" he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"Jace wanted me to stay with him," I said.

Dead silence on the other end of the line.

A long beat passed before Sinclair spoke again, his words measured and slow. "Do you know what day it is today?"

"I know. But today is Jace's birthday." Realizing how ice-cold that sounded, I dragged in a breath and softened my tone.

"Are you holding up okay? Get out of the house for a bit. Call a friend to hang out."

Another long stretch of silence. Then, a low "Yeah" scraped through the speaker before the line went dead.

I couldn't be his crutch for the rest of his life. I thought.

Chapter 4

I woke up the next morning to two missed calls from Sinclair. The timestamps flashed midnight and 2:00 AM. My phone had been on Do Not Disturb for hours.

I stared at the glowing screen. Back in the day, whenever Sinclair and I got into it, I'd be the one staring at the ceiling until dawn. My chest used to seize up like a fist, the anxiety eating away at my stomach lining until I finally caved and texted him first.

I never had the guts to actually call him. I'd just draft a dozen different text messages, agonizing over every single syllable to make sure I didn't sound too needy. Even though the desperation bled through anyway.

It became a hardwired routine. It didn't matter who started the fight or why; Sinclair expected me to wave the white flag. He'd offer a tight, forgiving nod, and we'd reset the clock like nothing happened.

But last night, Jace and I stayed up way too late. After I finally kicked him out and locked the door, I barely managed to splash water on my face before passing out face-first on the mattress.

If I hadn't checked my notifications this morning, I wouldn't have even remembered blowing Sinclair off.

I weighed my options. Then I typed out a quick reply: "Fell asleep. Need something?"

I hit send, tossed the phone on the counter, and went to do my makeup. When I checked my screen twenty minutes later, his response was already sitting there. One word: "Nothing."

I ran into Sinclair again at the grand opening of a friend's new lounge. Sinclair and I shared most of our social circle, but the girl throwing the party absolutely hated his guts. The feeling was mutual. She was the one constantly telling me to stop wasting my twenties on a guy who treated me like an afterthought.

So seeing Sinclair leaning against the bar caught me off guard. He looked like he dropped a few pounds. He stood a few feet away, nursing a drink. His jaw parted like he wanted to say something, but he snapped it shut.

My friend shoved a martini glass into my hand. She looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the VIP booths. "Don't even look at him. Anastasia showed up."

She flashed a wicked grin. "I put her on the guest list on purpose."

The puzzle pieces clicked into place.

She nudged my shoulder with hers, tipping her chin toward the crowd. "Look at them. Right back in each other's orbit."

I glanced over my shoulder. Anastasia navigated the crowded room in a silk slip dress, making a beeline straight for him. Sinclair didn't take a single step toward her. He just stood there, his gaze fixed on the floorboards.

The old me would have spiraled on the spot. My stomach would have dropped to the floor, and my hands would be shaking so hard I'd spill my drink.

I spent years treating him like glass, terrified of breaking him. Meanwhile, he bent over backward for her without a second thought. Watching him fold for her used to feel like swallowing a handful of gravel. The tension would lock my jaw until I could taste copper on my tongue.

But tonight? Outside of a phantom twinge, my pulse stayed dead flat.

The dead flatline of my own reaction threw me off.

My friend asked if I wanted to join her husband's poker table in the back room.

I told her yes.

She shot me a weird look. She reached out, wrapping her fingers around my wrist. "Your skin is actually warm," she muttered.

I sat down for a few rounds of Texas Hold'em. I went on a solid streak, only folding once.

My friend leaned over my chair, genuinely impressed. "Look at you. Head entirely in the game."

Halfway through the game, my phone buzzed. It was Jace: "When are you heading home?"

I checked the time. "Soon."

He fired back a smiling emoji. "I'll come get you."

I stared at the screen for a second. "Okay."

Chapter 5

After the game, I went to the restroom. When I walked out, Sinclair stood in the narrow hallway. A hard crease formed between his brows, and heavy shadows pooled in his eyes.

My gaze automatically scanned the crowded room behind him for Anastasia.

"She already left," Sinclair said.

He dragged in a sharp breath. His jaw tickeda rare crack in his usual bulletproof composure. I couldn't tell if he was trying to explain himself to me or trying to convince himself.

"She's married now. It's never going to happen between us."

I kept my mouth shut. My phone vibrated twice against my palm. Figuring Jace had finally pulled up, I went to tap the screen.

Before my thumb could connect, Sinclair's hand clamped around my wrist. He stared me down, the temperature in his voice dropping below freezing. "What the hell is going on with you lately?"

Meeting his intense gaze, I knew exactly what he was really asking.

My phone started ringing. A few people from the poker table poked their heads out of the back room, their eyes locking onto the tension radiating between us.

I kept my voice dead level. "Let me answer this."

His lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. A long second passed before his fingers slowly peeled off my skin.

Jace's voice came through the speaker, bright and easy. "Sutton, I'm here. Pulled up right out front."

"Got it," I said. "Coming out now."

I hung up and shifted my attention back to Sinclair. "Whatever this is, it can wait. My" I paused, hesitating on exactly what label to use. "friend is here to pick me up."

Sinclair's index finger twitched against his thighhis classic physical tell when he was forcing himself to bite his tongue. "Are you free this weekend?"

He held my gaze for a long moment. "We haven't hung out in a while."

I let the silence stretch for a beat. "Sure."

Unlike last time, Sinclair didn't walk away. He stood perfectly still on the curb, his eyes tracking Jace's Jeep until we completely disappeared down the dark street.

Inside the car, the air felt suffocatingly heavy. Jace kept his eyes locked on the road, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel. He was dead quiet. Ten minutes ago, he had flashed Sinclair a massive, cocky smile and opened my passenger door like an overprotective boyfriend claiming his territory.

Now, that explosive energy had bled dry.

I connected the dots pretty quickly. I decided to poke the bear. "Not happy to see me? You're grinding your teeth so hard it's echoing in the car."

Jace shot me a pathetic, wounded look. "Are we actually dating right now?"

The blunt question caught me off guard. I blinked, coming up blank.

A heavy disappointment settled over Jace's features. He didn't say another word for the rest of the drive. When we reached our apartment hallway, he dropped his chin to his chest, dug his keys out of his pocket, and shuffled toward his own front door like a kicked puppy.

An urge to call his name hit the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. I pushed my key into the lock.

The second my door swung open, a large hand wrapped firmly around my wrist.

Frustration bled through Jace's face. He practically ground his teeth together. "You're really going to let me walk away without saying a single word? You know I'm not going to sleep at all tonight