Too Wrong: Chapter 3

Thirty-seven minutes.

I’ve only been here thirty-seven minutes.

What the hell am I doing here, anyway?

I’d much rather be at home watching Netflix and stuffing myself with ice cream instead of scrutinizing my every move in a room full of people who, to put it mildly, aren’t my biggest fans.

But I’m here.

I’m here because I’m a good friend. That’s why.

If not for Thalia being the only Hayes not to treat me like a disease, I would’ve bailed on the party, but we’re friends. Great friends. She might be the only person in my life who truly has my back, and we’ve grown close since we first met two years ago. Sometimes I think it’s not Kaya who’s my best friend anymore. It’s Thalia. 

She tries to keep me entertained while the seven Hayes brothers act like I’m thin air. Very foul, smelly air at that. They weren’t thrilled with me after the Theo and Logan fuck-fest fiasco, but they were civil.

Not anymore.

Now, I’m a pigeon’s crap on their designer clothes. A tangled earphone cord. A stubbed toe. That one customer who waits in line for twenty minutes but doesn’t know what to order once he reaches the till. A mosquito buzzing overhead at three in the morning.

Yeah, that’s me. The nuisance.

Fraternizing with public enemy number one puts me in the same bag as the girl who drove a knife through Nico’s heart.

Although that might be an exaggeration. 

I was a first-hand witness to Nico’s relationship with Kaya. Truth be told, other than fascination and a sense of higher purpose, he had no feelings for her. No meaningful feelings, at least. More often than not, he forced himself to spend time with her. He forced himself to touch and kiss her. From a bystander’s point of view, he looked like someone trying to settle down against better judgment. 

And poor judgment is what got him in that mess. 

Kaya’s a nice friend—caring, helpful, and used to be mostly available when I needed her, but she’s no girlfriend or wife material. She’s flirtatious and kind of a slut. I’m not judgmental on any level. A girl can sleep around just as much as a guy, but maybe not while she’s married… 

How can Kaya’s husband be so blind? Most of Newport knows she’s cheating on Jared almost every weekend. Either the rumors bypass his ears, or he chooses to ignore them. 

I didn’t expect a thank you from Logan after I, in a way, saved his younger brother from a toxic relationship. I also didn’t expect the silent treatment that followed or the hateful stares from his brothers whenever we bump into each other.

“This is nice, but I need a night out,” Thalia says, stopping beside me. The short black dress she wears struggles to contain her huge boobs. “Do you have time next week? We could invite Mary-Jane and Amy and head over to Q.”

It’s like being stuck between a hammer and a hard place trying to juggle my friendship with Thalia and Kaya. They hate each other on principle, which means planning girls’ nights is problematic, at the least.

I always choose between one or the other, but I’d rather split myself in two than ask them to step into one room. I’m sure Kaya would end up in the ER with claw marks across her beautiful face, courtesy of Thalia. She’s as fierce as they come and protects her family like a lioness. No one can say one bad word about the Hayes and walk away without tasting her wrath.

“I’ll check with them, but I like the idea,” I say. “It’s been too long. You’re too preoccupied with your man.”

She smirks, then all-out beams when Theo approaches with a glass of wine. He snakes his free hand around her middle, pressing his lips against her temple, the kiss soft, sweet, and affectionate.

They’re adorable together. Two years hasn’t diminished how he handles her, as if she’s the only woman he sees. I’d never admit it out loud, but Theo and Thalia’s relationship is one I’m envious of most. She’s his dream come true. Everything he does is with Thalia in mind, and she’s the same: in love and being loved. Unconditionally.

Why can’t I find what they have? I’m twenty-five, and I’ve never been in a long-term relationship.

What is wrong with me?

Why can’t I have a man to love me for me? A man to come home to. A man to watch TV with and fall asleep next to…

“Time for cake, omorfiá^[1],” Theo says before he looks at me, nothing more than a polite nod of his chin to acknowledge my existence.

It’s more than either of his brothers greeted me with today, but I know he only tolerates my presence because of Thalia.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells me before hurrying away, her hand in Theo’s.

I glance around the room, searching for a familiar face to talk to for a while before I fake a headache, apologize to the birthday girl, and make a swift exit in precisely forty minutes. An hour and a half is enough time among people who despise me. In the crowd of faces celebrating Thalia’s twenty-sixth birthday, I spot Logan Hayes. 

My body’s instantly ablaze as my heart speeds up, hurtling from a steady thumping to a hurried gallop. How long before these foolish feelings run their course? 

Three years have passed, but I can’t shake him no matter how hard I try. We rarely bump into each other these days, but when we do, it’s at the least convenient moment. At the very last second. Just when I think I’m over him, he materializes in front of me as if to say Nah-ah, princess, I won’t let you forget about me that easily.

The feelings flare, throwing me back to my knees.

Back to the state of mind where I obsess over my mistake and wish to find a lamp and summon a Genie to grant my wish: turn back time; let me start over. 

I inhale a deep breath through my nose and push it past my lips, forcing the tense muscles in my shoulders and neck to relax. 

Here he is… closer than I’ve had him since Nico caught Kaya in the act a year and a half ago. 

Here he is like I knew he would be.

Deep down, I’m honest enough to admit he’s the main reason why I showed my face here tonight. Thalia would understand if I asked her to meet me at Tortugo for a celebratory drink one evening instead of joining the party, but I couldn’t, for the love of that’s holy, pass on the chance to see Logan. 

All six-foot-one of him, built like the swimmer he used to be in college. Irreverent sense of style, handsome, boyish face despite his thirty years, and eyes I could drown in.

Lord, he’s fucking perfect.

The kind of man you swoon over. The kind you stare at for hours and never grow tired of admiring his immaculate hair, high cheekbones, clever eyes, and full lips.

He rushes around the room with Josh resting on his forearm. The little boy laughs, mouth open, hands outstretched, and Logan smiles. And that smile… the glint in his eyes, the curve of his mouth… it does something to me. It brings back an avalanche of unwanted feelings, burying me beneath a thick blanket of intense emotions.

Everyone makes mistakes.

We get drunk at a party and throw up, missing the toilet by an inch. Or don’t get to the toilet at all and puke in the living room. We hit the club with friends and make out with the boy our bestie has been crushing on just because she was a bitch earlier and had to learn a lesson. Or worse—we hook up with said guy and consequently ruin the friendship. We spill secrets even though we were told not to utter a word to a living soul.

Mistakes. Whether big or small, they’re a part of life, a part of growing up, and part of learning how to function in the world and navigate the jungle. 

Some we brush off with time. Others live in our heads rent-free for longer… forever. Some teach us a lesson. Others become a bitter-sweet memory of our youth.

Most people make two or three big mistakes. Those we obsess over every now and then regardless of how much time has passed. Those that keep us up at night. 

Not many of us make mistakes that destroy our chance at a real, meaningful relationship. 

I did.

A mistake that should’ve never happened to someone like me—a scholar student, a well-behaved, obedient foster daughter, a charity volunteer.

That mistake was none other than Theo Hayes.

It was my first day in Newport. I moved in with my friend, Luke, after we graduated college. We were set to work at the Country Club throughout the summer to save enough money to open a photography studio. To celebrate the start of our newfound independence, we headed to town for a few drinks.

Theo was there. Handsome, courtly, funny. One minute I stood by the bar, laughing at a joke he told me, and the next minute I was in his apartment, coming on his dick. 

Other than his first name, I knew nothing about him. Not that he was the mayor’s son or that he had six brothers. Not even that they were considered Newport’s heartbreakers. That last part should’ve occurred to me when a line of women scowled in my direction while Theo entertained me at the bar.

What I did know was that he didn’t want more than sex. Fine by me. I didn’t want more, either. Just one night. A spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, my very first one-night-stand. It was fun and satisfying, and the careless joker I met a few hours earlier was still there once we were done. I was sure we wouldn’t see each other again after he ordered me a cab.

I should’ve known better.

A few days later, I spotted him playing golf with three other guys. That’s when I met Logan, Nico, and Shawn, but I paid the last two no attention. In hindsight, it might be why—despite their kinship—I didn’t realize they were brothers.

One innocent glance at Logan was enough to send endorphins roaring through my bloodstream. The attraction grew throughout the day, unmistakable and more potent than what I’ve felt thus far. He was polite, charming, and to-die-for handsome. When they finished golfing, he asked for my number and called with a drink invitation two hours later.

I stood in front of the wardrobe for the longest time, trying to decide what to wear, giddy like a teenager that the handsome boy had asked me out. After that, we hung out every evening, and by the weekend, we ended up on a real-life date at one of the most popular restaurants in town. Sparks were flying, the sexual tension hard to ignore. 

I caved.

No, I initiated, stealing a kiss when the cab driver pulled up outside my studio flat.

Just a week earlier, I was sure no man could top Theo’s performance in bed, but it paled as soon as Logan took to the stage. I couldn’t get enough of him or close enough to him. I was his, possessed and worshiped at the same time.

His whispers in my ear, the strong but tender touch, his hungry eyes… a fantasy come true.

His undeniable skills were just a cherry on top. 

I woke up the following day blissfully infatuated, entangled in his muscular arms, and convinced it was just the beginning. The very start of more.

The spell broke a few hours later when he sent me a text.

Logan: Congratulations. Two down, five to go. Sorry to burst your bubble but Shawn’s gay, Nico won’t touch you with a six-foot pole, and the triplets are underaged. Your collection of Hayes brothers stops here.

Never in my life have I felt as humiliated or worthless as that morning when I realized I slept with two brothers just a week apart. Logan ignored my calls and the messages I sent to explain that I didn’t know they were brothers. That I didn’t know him when Theo approached me at the bar.

He didn’t reply.

From then on, he ignored my existence every Sunday while he golfed with his brothers.

I should’ve forced him to listen, but I was embarrassed and hurt. I cowered, avoiding confrontation. As time passed, Logan toned down with the theatrical head-turning and hands-across-chest-folding, but other than hey or Bud Light, please, we didn’t speak. That’s until I decided to stop turning a blind eye to my best friend cheating on Nico.

Now, our eyes lock across the room.

My palms turn cold and clammy, nerves rush to the surface, and my heart beats like a stereo. I’m waiting for a smug smirk, teeth grinding, or an ostentatious head turn or eyeroll, but nothing happens. He just stares, his eyes taking in the length of my body in a slow, heated once-over.

I’m held captive under the intensity of his burning gaze for a few long, tense seconds. He turns away, visibly startled by Nico, who stops beside him in all his unapproachable glory.

The Hayes brothers are tall, toned, and warm in complexion with brown or black hair and a few shades of brown eyes. Their unsettling aura makes you wary from afar, but they aren’t as intimidating as they seem once you get closer.

At least not six of them.

Shawn’s a big, soft teddy. He might be a cop and carry a gun, but he’s the gentlest of the Hayes. Theo’s the joker, always cheerful, ready to help and relieve the tension. Logan’s short-tempered, edgy, and vicious if he wants to be, but he’s got a heart of gold and a lighthearted attitude toward life.

I’ve not spent much time with the triplets, but Cody, Colt, and Conor seem to be upgraded versions of their older brothers, just more reckless. I guess they’re still finding themselves growing as men and human beings.

And then there’s Nico. In a way, he’s a different breed from the other six. Similar looks but tallest with a broad, muscular chest and a tight web of tattoos marking his hands, arms, and neck. Square jaw, jet-black hair, and coal-black eyes. He’s the most ominous man I’ve ever met, and it doesn’t change when you get closer. If anything, the unease grows.

I avert my gaze before he catches me staring.

I scan the room again, searching for someone to talk to, but Thalia and Mary-Jane are busy with their other halves. Instead of standing alone by the wall like orphan Annie, I head outside for fresh air while everyone enjoys the cake. 

Normally, I would too, but as it contains hazelnuts, I’d need a shot of epinephrine if I tried a piece. 

The garden is empty for the moment, but it’s decorated for the party with balloons, garlands, and a picture-taking area equipped with an array of props and a colorful backdrop. It’s just a matter of time before the party moves outside.

I stop by the pool, where a blow-up flamingo sways with the wind. I’m thankful for a moment of peace. A moment to clear my head that ends too quickly. Mary-Jane joins me with her boyfriend of two weeks, Timothy, and three part-time waiters working with Thalia at Nico’s restaurant—The Olive Tree.

“Hey, what are you doing here alone?” MJ asks while the three guys strip off their clothes.

Three splashes push me to step back from the edge. “I needed air. It’s too hot inside.”

“Come on, Mary-Jane!” One of the guys yells. “Get in. The water is great.”

She glances at Timothy as if checking what he thinks, and seeing no disapproval, she turns her back to me, flipping her hair to the front. “Unzip me, please.”

The bottle-green dress slides down her skinny, tanned legs to reveal black panties and a push-up bra. She’s not a shy girl by any definition but considering the guests at the party range in age from nineteen-year-old triplets to their grandparents in their late seventies or maybe even early eighties, I’m surprised she’s going along with the swim.

I mean, the freaking mayor is in the house.

The guys in the pool howl while Timothy chuckles under his breath, watching MJ sway her hips left and right, blowing him a kiss before she jumps in head-first.

“Come on, Cass! Your turn!”

I stumble back two more steps. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

One of them, Jax, I think, rests his hands on the tiles, raking his hand through his longish, light hair. The muscles on his arms bulge as he hoists himself out, a gleam in his stormy-blue eyes.

“Loosen up, babe. There’s nothing underneath that dress we haven’t seen before. Get in the pool.”

I wonder if this is what all parties at Theo and Thalia’s are like or if the three young boys in the pool mistook the gathering for a frat party. They’re in college, after all, working evening shifts at the restaurant to earn money for booze.

For every step Jax takes forward, I step back.

I hold out my hand to keep him at a distance. “I said no.” My back hits the patio furniture, my pulse roaring the closer he gets.

“Alright, alright. Chill out, girl,” he chuckles, raising his hand in defeat. “Suit yourself.” He turns around, taking small steps back toward his friends.

I breathe a sigh of relief… all too soon.

Jax spins again, lunging forward to cuff my wrist, and Timothy jumps in to help. Too bad he’s helping Jax, not me. The pool party cheers, laughing as the two of them drag me toward the edge despite me trying to free myself from their grasp.

“No!” I yelp, panic rushing through my head and voice. My mind races, and I can’t… fuck, my head… I can’t breathe already. “I’m not joking! Let me go! I can’t swim! Please, I—”

The sentence runs short when they throw me into the water, fully dressed and still holding the glass of wine, its contents spilled all over the tiles.

There’s no time for a deep breath. Whatever air was stored in my lungs is ejected when my chest connects with the sheet of water. Fear kicks in the second I go under.

My wet dress drags me down despite my frantic attempts to swim to the surface. Or maybe the uncoordinated hand waving and leg kicking drown me faster.

There’s no leverage. Nothing to brace my legs against and nothing to grab. I don’t know; I can’t see where is up and where is down. My lungs burn, screaming for air, a jab of intense pain coursing through me like a stark-white bolt of lightning, and my ribs feel as if they’re being crushed by metal chains. 

Oxygen drains from every cell in my body in pure agony. No longer thinking clearly, gasping for air, overcome by the primal need to breathe, I let my lips fall open. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s a reflex I can’t fight.

Water fills my lungs.

A sharp, stabbing pain pierces through my nervous system like thousands of needles, and pain synchs around my heart.

In a daze of terror, my eyes open, and I see the shimmer of sunlight reflecting off the water above as if to mock how vulnerable… how helpless I am, silently drowning.