In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

FORTY ONE

JACK'S POV

"This has to be a nightmare, Luke. What the fuck," I hear Morgan's voice muffled behind Luke's bedroom door.

As Morgan and Luke chat, I take a moment to clean up the mess we made with the boys in the kitchen. There are cards scattered everywhere and empty glasses of water, beer, juice, whatever you want.

I screwed up, big time. I know I hurt Morgan bad with my thoughtless actions and careless words. But admitting it? That's the hard part. I've always been better at dodging tough emotions than facing them head-on. And right now, finding the right words to express how truly sorry I am feels like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.

As I pick up another discarded card, my mind drifts back to the moment when Morgan confronted me in the bathroom. Her tear-stained eyes and trembling voice haunt me, a stark reminder of the pain I've caused. For the first time in a long while, I feel a pang of genuine remorse deep within my chest.

But even as I acknowledge my mistakes, I can't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards Morgan. Why did she have to bring up our past in front of everyone? Why did she have to air our dirty laundry for all to see? Deep down, I know these thoughts are just excuses, ways to deflect blame away from myself.

As I continue cleaning, I try to push aside my conflicting emotions and focus on the task at hand. I know I need to find a way to make things right with Morgan, to repair the damage I've done to our relationship. But for now, all I can do is clean up the mess I've made and hope that somehow, we can find a way to move forward together.

As I reflect on the events of the evening, a sinking feeling settles in my gut. Maybe I made a misstep by bringing up Jane so openly. While my intention was merely to convey a message, I hadn't fully considered the potential fallout. I didn't mean for her to overhear, but perhaps on some level, it was a subconscious attempt to make my feelings known.

One moment we were together, sharing a night of intimacy, and the next morning, she was in Braden's arms. It felt like a betrayal, a slap in the face. Who's the real culprit in this situation? It's hard to say, but I can't deny feeling a sense of bitterness and frustration at how things unfolded.

She doesn't get to play the victim, not after everything. From the start, I laid out clear boundaries with Jane: our relationship was purely physical, devoid of any emotional entanglements. Unlike clueless Braden, who's convinced Morgan is his soulmate, I'm not blind to the reality of our situation.

Morgan may appear perfect on the surface, but she's harboring secrets, betraying the trust of those who care for her. It's a harsh reality, one that I've been forced to confront time and time again. 

Midway through my task, the door to Luke's room squeaks open, and he emerges with blankets and a pillow in hand. It's become a routine for us to offer our bed to guests, particularly Morgan.

"You know everyone heard," Luke comments, pausing in front of me before heading to the living room. I follow, still clutching the trash bag.

"Heard what?" I reply, playing dumb, though I'm acutely aware of what he's getting at. It's almost as if I'm trying to distance myself from the gravity of my words, to pretend they didn't have the impact they did.

"About Vegas..." Luke begins, his voice heavy with disappointment as he sits down on the couch, burying his face in his hands before releasing a heavy sigh. "Well, they heard everything, and I told them to leave before you guys exited the bathroom," he explains, his words tinged with frustration as he sprawls out on the sofa.

I can feel a knot forming in my stomach as the weight of his words sinks in. The realization that our private conversation wasn't so private after all hits me like a ton of bricks.