Twisted Hate (Twisted, 3)

The brief camaraderie Jules and I experienced at the clinic fizzled less than twenty-four hours later, when I arrived at the airport’s private jet terminal to find her looking bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and all too smug about beating me to the airport.

“You’re late.” Jules sipped her coffee. No doubt it was a caramel mocha with extra crunch and oat milk because she was lactose intolerant and hated the taste of almond milk.

So predictable.

“We haven’t boarded yet, which means I’m not late.” I dropped into the seat opposite hers and frowned at her outfit. Yoga pants and boots, topped with a fuzzy purple jacket and giant sunglasses she’d propped on top of her head. “Where the hell did you get your jacket? Barneys R Us?”

“I wouldn’t expect someone who showed up to the airport in sweatpants to understand fashion.” Jules’s eyes flicked toward the sweatpants in question, and my irritation melted into smug satisfaction when she lingered a second too long on a certain area.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer,” I drawled.

Her eyes snapped up to mine. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m just thinking about how easy it would be to cut your prized possession off.” She smiled. “Sleep tight this weekend, Joshy. You never know what goes bump in the night.”

I didn’t bother responding to her ridiculous threat, but my eyebrows popped up when she picked up the small white paper bag next to her and tossed it at me without warning.

I caught it easily, my reflexes honed from years of sports.

I opened the bag, and my eyebrows rose higher when I saw the blueberry muffin sitting at the bottom.

“In return for the cupcake.” Maybe the lighting was playing tricks on me, but I thought I spotted the faintest pink tint on Jules’s cheeks. “I don’t like owing people.”

“It was a cupcake, JR, not a loan.” I shook the bag. “Did you poison this?” I asked, mirroring her question from yesterday. “Ava will be upset if her beloved brother drops dead during her birthday trip, which means Alex will be upset, which means you’ll be dead.”

Her sigh contained the weariness of a thousand ages. “Josh, eat the damn muffin.”

I debated for all of two seconds before I shrugged.

What the hell. There were worse ways to go than death by blueberry.

“Thank you,” I said grudgingly.

I ripped off a piece of the pastry and popped it in my mouth while my eyes roved the terminal. “Where’s the happy couple?”

“Probably whispering sweet nothings to each other over breakfast.” Jules tilted her head toward the fancy-looking restaurant further down the terminal.

I snorted at the thought of Alex whispering sweet anythings to anyone, even my sister. “You didn’t join them?”

“Didn’t feel like third wheeling.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Instead of responding, she eyed me over the rim of her cup, a small notch forming between her brows. “Is it weird for you?” she asked. “Going on a trip with Alex.”

I paused, my jaw tensing for a second before I resumed chewing. “It is what it is. Ava asked, so I’m here. The end,” I said after I finished eating.

A taut silence stretched between us, ripe with unspoken words.

Jules lowered her drink before raising it to her mouth again, like she wanted to shield herself from what she was about to say next. “You’re a good brother.”

No snark, only sincerity, but the words hit me somewhere south of my gut.

“Your sister’s in the hospital…”

“Almost drowned…”

“I’m sorry son, but your mom…she overdosed…”

“He lied to us.” Tears streaked Ava’s cheeks. “He lied to both of us.”

“Join us for the holidays.” I clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Spending Christmas alone is just wrong.”

“I’d feel better if I had someone I trusted looking after her, ya know?”

“You’re the only person I trust, period, outside of my family. And you know how worried I am about Ava…”

Disjointed memories crowded my brain.

Was I a good brother?

I hadn’t been there when Ava almost died, twice. I’d been too blind to see the truth about our father all those years. I’d looked up to the man, did everything I could to make him proud. And I’d all but pushed Ava into Alex’s arms because, once again, I’d trusted someone who ended up betraying me.

In the end, Alex and Ava’s relationship worked out, but I would never forget the months when she walked around like a shell of herself. Quiet, withdrawn, and devoid of the spark that made her her. Every day, I woke up fearing I would find her the way I’d found our mom—with too many pills in her stomach and not enough will to live.

All because I was too goddamned stupid and placed my trust in people I shouldn’t have.

I knew it technically wasn’t my fault that Michael tried to kill Ava, or that my mom committed suicide, or that Ava fell in love with Alex. But that was the thing about guilt. It didn’t give a damn about facts or reason. It sprouted from the tiniest seeds of doubt, slipped through the cracks of your psyche, and by the time you realized what the ugly darkness oozing through your veins was, it’d already burrowed itself so deep you couldn’t dig it out without losing a part of yourself.

“Josh.” Jules’s voice sounded muffled and far away. “Josh!”

It was louder and clearer this time, enough so it yanked me out of my thoughts and back into the sun-drenched terminal.

I blinked, my heart slamming against my ribcage with such force it rattled my bones. “Yeah.”

The notch between her brows deepened, and something akin to concern passed through her eyes. “I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes. Are you…okay?”

“Yeah,” I repeated. I raked a hand through my hair and forced myself to take deep breaths until my heartbeat slowed to a normal rate. “Just thinking about some things.”

It was the lamest reply I could’ve given, but Jules didn’t call me out on it. Instead, she stared at me for a minute longer before she flicked her eyes over my shoulder and said, “Alex and Ava are here.”

I twisted my head in time to see the couple in question come into view.

“Hey!” Ava broke away from Alex and hugged me. “You’re on time.”

“Why does everyone think I’m not punctual? I am,” I grumbled.

I swear, you’re late to one party and suddenly everyone thinks you make a habit out of it.

“Sure.” My sister patted me on the arm before she addressed the group at large. “You guys ready to board?”

“Yep.” Jules stood and tossed her empty drink into a nearby trash can. “Let’s do this.”

She and Ava fell into step ahead of me and left me with Alex, who I greeted with a stiff nod. “Alex.”

“Josh.” His face was blank, per usual, but the tense set of his shoulders suggested I wasn’t the only one who had qualms about this weekend.

I could only hope we all made it out intact.

By the time we landed in Vermont an hour and a half later, I’d drowned my anxieties about the weekend with two mimosas, hold the orange juice, courtesy of the private jet service.

A black Range Rover waited for us outside the airport, which was only a thirty-minute ride to the resort, and Ava spent most of the drive detailing the resort’s luxury amenities: a world-class spa, two gourmet restaurants, the famed triple black diamond, and a bunch of other things I tuned out.

All I cared about was the ski trail. My first triple black diamond. It was going to be epic.

I was itching to drop off my luggage and hit the slopes, but unfortunately, we hit our first snag before we even checked in.

“What do you mean, the lodge is occupied?” Icicles dripped from each word as Alex glared at the poor front desk assistant. Henry, according to his name tag.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Volkov, but it appears there was a mix-up in the system, and we double-booked this weekend.” Henry gulped. “The other guests arrived last night and checked in.”

“I see.” Alex’s voice dropped another ten degrees. “So where, exactly, are we supposed to stay, considering I already shelled out a considerable sum of money for the Presidential Lodge?”

Henry gulped again and tapped furiously on his computer.

Ava tugged on Alex’s hand and whispered something in his ear that caused his shoulders to relax, though he kept his glare pinned to Henry.

I leaned against the counter, not dumb enough to open my mouth while Alex was on the warpath. Even Jules was silent, though that might be because she was too busy eye fucking some guy across the lobby.

I gave the guy a quick once-over. Blond hair, unnaturally white smile, the same pale blue shirt and khakis as the rest of the resort staff. I’d bet my last dollar he was a ski instructor. He just had that annoying, eager look.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, JR. You’re drooling.”

“I don’t drool.” Jules smiled at Ski Bro, who smiled back.

Irritation curled in my stomach. It was the resort’s grand opening weekend, and he was loitering in the lobby, flirting with guests. Didn’t he have a job to do?

“There’s one VIP lodge left,” Henry said. “The Eagle Lodge isn’t as big as the Presidential Lodge, but it has the best view and the same amenities. Of course, we’re happy to refund you for the difference in pricing as well as include a complimentary meal and spa gift card to make up for the inconvenience.”

If Ava weren’t here, I was sure Alex would’ve ripped the guy a new one, but all he said was, “How much smaller is the Eagle Lodge?”

“It has two bedrooms instead of four. But the couch in the living room can be converted into a bed,” Henry hastened to add when Alex’s brows lowered.

“It’s fine.” Ava placed a hand on Alex’s forearm. “It’s just for the weekend.”

Alex’s nostrils flared before he acquiesced with a short nod. “The Eagle Lodge is fine.”

“Great.” Henry’s relief was palpable. “Here are the key cards…”

I shifted my attention back to Jules while he gave instructions on how to get to the lodge.

“You done having sex in the lobby?”

Jules was still silently flirting with Ski Bro, but she tore her eyes away from him at my comment. “If you think I’m having sex right now, it’s no wonder women leave your room unsatisfied.”

Touché.

A small smile played on my lips. If adventure sports were my physical release, sparring with Jules was my mental one. Nothing else gave me quite the same rush.

“Women leave my room feeling all sorts of things, but I guarantee unsatisfied isn’t one of them.”

“That’s what men always think,” she scoffed. “I regret to inform you they’re probably faking it.”

“I can tell the difference between a fake orgasm and a real one, JR.”

“So you’re saying women have faked orgasms with you.” Her voice was all sugar and arsenic.

“My first few times.” I wasn’t embarrassed by the fact. Everyone started at zero. “But practice makes perfect. Maybe you’ll find out for yourself one day, if you’re lucky.”

Jules gagged as we followed Alex and Ava out of the lobby to our lodge. “Don’t make me throw up. We just got here, and I despise vomit.”

A laugh rumbled in my throat. She was so fucking easy to rile up.

But when we arrived at the lodge, my laugh died in the face of hiccup number two: the pullout couch was not, in fact, a pullout. It was just a damn couch, which meant there were only two rooms for the four of us, and every possible pairing sounded worse than the last.

“I can room with Jules.” Ava slanted an apologetic glance in Alex’s direction. “You and Josh can share.”

“No.” I would rather swim naked in the icy river bordering the resort than room with Alex.

“What’s the alternative?” she argued. “I don’t want to spend all day debating room assignments.”

There were only two other options. I could room with Ava or Jules. If I roomed with Ava, Alex and Jules would have to be roommates, and that was fucking weird.

“I’ll share with JR.” I jerked my head in Jules’s direction. “You and Alex take the master. The guest bedroom has two beds, so we’ll make it work.”

It wasn’t ideal, but it was the least terrible choice.

Jules echoed my sentiment with as much enthusiasm as a mouse entering a snake’s cage.

“You sure?” Ava was fully aware of the animosity between us, and she was probably picturing us murdering each other in our sleep.

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“Yep. Let’s just get this over with so we can hit the slopes.” We wouldn’t be in our rooms much, anyway. I could just turn in for the night and pretend Jules wasn’t there.

Unfortunately, the universe and its fucked up sense of humor had different plans.

When we opened the door to the guest bedroom, we were greeted with hiccup number three, AKA the worst thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.

“No fucking way,” Jules said at the same time I growled, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Because sitting smack dab in the middle of an otherwise beautiful room, piled high with fluffy pillows and a luxurious navy comforter, was a four-poster bed.

Bed. Singular. As in, there was only one.

And I had to share it with Jules Ambrose.

Kill me now.