The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(50)

“What?” Six asks with a smirk. “It wasn’t an insult. I like preschool teachers just fine.”

Josh remains behind my chair. “Get up,” he tells Six.

“Josh,” his mother says gently. “Just take a seat, honey. He’s had too much to drink and—”

Six’s chair scrapes the cement as he pushes backward. “I’m going out,” he announces, looking at me. “You coming?” It’s more a statement than a question. He assumes I’m coming, and he’s set this up so no one can win. If I leave with him, Beth will be upset. If I stay, she’ll worry that we’re fighting. I can’t believe he’s doing this to me or her.

“It’s our last night here,” I reply, remaining in my seat. “I think we should stay.”

His mouth presses flat. “Fine. Have fun.” And then he’s gone. Beth’s eyes close and her shoulders sag.

Josh exhales. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She waves him off. “I just wish the two of you got along. The day will come when you only have each other.”

She chokes on those last words and Jim takes her hand. “It’s been a stressful few days,” he says. “Let’s just head to the room.”

“No,” Beth argues, swallowing, “Drew was right. It’s our last night.”

But she looks sad and exhausted and it’s clear she’s pushed herself too hard. “We have a very long day of travel together tomorrow,” I tell her. “Don’t stay on my account. I doubt I’ll be up that long myself.”

Beth allows herself to be led upstairs, and then it’s only me and Josh. He once said I was the glue holding them together, but it hardly feels that way. If I’d just left when Sloane did, maybe the four of them would be sitting at this table still. Josh sinks into the seat across from mine and kicks my foot.

“None of this is your fault,” he says quietly.

“It feels like it is.”

“I think you’ve just gotten very used to being blamed,” he says. “My brother started this by being a callous, spoiled little shit, and the only problem is that he continued to be one.”

“But your mom—”

“Wants the world for her boys. Every mother probably does. It’s not your fault she can’t give it to them.” He gives me a small smile. “We basically started this trip together alone. Might as well end it this way too.”

I smile against my will. “You want to hear something unsettling?” I ask, desperate to lighten the mood. “Your parents are the only ones on this trip who had sex.”

“That,” he replies “was so unnecessary.” And then he laughs, and as badly as this night has gone, I’m glad it’s turned out this way too.

We order drinks and food and it’s easy and hard at the same time. Being near him is like seeing exactly how happy you could be if you’d been born into someone else’s life. “Are you over there thinking deep thoughts?” he asks.

I smile. “I’m not smart enough for deep thoughts, only shallow ones.”

He shakes his head as he refills my wine glass. “That’s not true. And I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who hides as much as you do either.”

“Hides?” I ask. I pick up the wine glass and hold it to my chest. “I’m an open book.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “Then how’d you get that scar on your nose?”

“Taking down Bin Laden,” I reply, pushing my hair back. “I was a Navy SEAL before I went into music.”

He smiles. “That’s impressive. Especially since you’d have been, like, twelve.”

I shrug. “As you should know by now, I’m incredibly fit.”

He laughs and lets it go, thank God. Maybe I’m not an open book, but that’s how it is when you know every answer will only lead to more questions.

He excuses himself and walks up to the stage, to the guy playing guitar there. It seems bizarrely outgoing for Josh. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him willingly speak to anyone aside from his family.

I raise a brow when he returns. “What was that about?”

“He wanted to know where you got the scar on your nose,” he replies. “I told him you were in a fight club and couldn’t discuss it.”

I grin. “The first rule of fight club…”

“Is don’t talk about fight club,” he concludes.

The guy on the stage taps on the microphone to get everyone’s attention. I turn toward him and he’s looking straight at me. “I understand we have a guitar player in the house,” he says into the mic. “Lina, come on up here.”

I blink, looking at the smattering of people still sitting here, before I turn to stare at Josh.

“Dude, what the fuck?” I whisper.

“You were able to astonish everyone last night playing an instrument you’d never actually played before. And you sing in front of thousands of people. How could this be a big deal?”

I swallow. “That’s different.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” he says, rising to his feet and reaching out a hand to me. “Maybe it’s time you tried doing something that does. Play your new song. Play the old songs you wrote. Just promise me you won’t play Naked.”