CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Jude

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jude

How I went from having my girlfriend on my arm to walking my sister down the red carpet over the course of a couple of weeks is beyond me.

But that's exactly what I'm doing right now.

"Smile. Turn. Smile," Dylan murmurs from our side.

"She does realize I've done this a hundred times, right?" Cait says from out the side of her mouth, her smile never waning.

I laugh. "She's trying to be helpful."

"Well, please tell your publicist I don't want her help. Just like I don't want to be here."

"Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?"

"No, but please feel free to go into great, specific details about what an amazing sister I am. Then buy my baby everything they'll ever want in their life. Maybe even pay for their college too."

I shake my head, placing my arm around her shoulder, hugging her close and loving how she fusses at me for almost messing up her hair.

Cait scowls up at me, pressing the one little hair that moved back down, then steps away and onto the next marked spot where we need to stop.

After Jasper showed up at my place to pull me out of my funk, I slowly started getting my life together.

First, I called Dylan and apologized not only for bailing on her in London but also for skipping out on the rest of the premiere tour. I even let her chew me out for a solid thirty minutes without a single interjection.

She felt better afterward, and I felt worse.

All was right with us again.

Besides, despite me not showing up for all our scheduled press events, the movie still managed to break all box office records in the last five years, which I'm sure has something to do with her forgiving me so easily, but I'm not about to point that out. Especially when I know that a lot of this success has to do with the press Olive and I received and are still receiving.

And because Dylan is Dylan, I had to promise to attend this premiere for some new period piece I have no interest in, but it is worth it to have her talking to me again.

I'm not sure I would ever tell her this, but I kind of missed her bugging me.

Which is probably why I'm not complaining about it too much right now as she presses us on to the next area—the interviews.

"Remember what we practiced: short, vague answers. Smile. Flip the script to them."

I nod. "Got it."

She locks her hazel eyes onto me, narrowing them slightly. "You better. Love and Arson is doing great. You've had no fewer than ten scripts offered to you in the last week. You're getting everything you wanted. Don't mess this up now."

Her words hit me square in the chest, and the smile I've had plastered on my face falters.

The movie is doing better than I ever imagined. There have already been talks of turning it into a four-film franchise. And I'm being offered more scripts and roles than I could have anticipated.

But everything I ever wanted? She's wrong about that.

I'm not getting everything I ever wanted.

Because it turns out, Olive is what I wanted all along. She gave me everything I was always missing. She gave me something real.

And without her, all I have is this, and it's not enough anymore. I love acting. I always have and always will. But none of that excitement and sense of achievement I get from it means anything if I can't share it with the one person who makes me feel more alive than I ever have.

So yeah, the film might be a total success, and it might seem like I have it all right now, but I don't.

And until I have her back, I won't.

"Go, go." Dylan shoos us forward.

Cait and I step up to the interviewer—Becky from Entertainment Access.

Becky beams over at us, her smile genuine and not at all forced.

"Oh my gosh. I cannot believe I have the Caitlin Rafferty right now." Becky bounces back and forth on her heels, letting out a little squeal. "How are you? How amazing is this? Are you having fun?"

Becky points the microphone at my sister, and bless her soul, she takes it all in stride.

Cait breezes through the interview, answering all the questions with a smile. She even plugs her bakery a few times. It's flawless, and before I know it, we're herded along to the next stop.

That's how most of the evening goes.

It turns out Dylan was right. Having Cait here was a clever idea. She's the elusive Rafferty, so almost nobody is worried about me and Olive.

Almost.

"So, Jude," Gigi from Just Hollywood says, "how are things with you and Olive O'Brien? We haven't seen anything in about two weeks—not since the diary leak?"

I swallow, then try to remember what I practiced with Dylan.

"We're working through things."

"You're still together, though, right?" Gigi presses, and I have to fight the urge to rip the giant microphone from her hands and snap it in two.

Not just because of the question, but because of the giant hole that's still in my chest. The hole I know only Olive can fill.

The truth is, I still haven't spoken with her.

I've tried, so many times. I pick up my phone to call or text her at least once an hour, but I freeze at the last second.

I love her, but what if she doesn't love me back? What if she pushed me away because she realized she couldn't do this, not because it was hard, but because I wasn't worth it?

The questions are on a never-ending loop in my head.

"Oh my gosh, Gigi! I know where I know you from! Our parents were friends growing up!" Cait says with false enthusiasm.

And I know it's fake. There's no way she didn't remember Gigi right away, seeing as Gigi had a massive crush on Jasper until he told her that her name reminded him of a dog.

Let's just say it didn't go over well, and Jasper still gets queasy at the mention of hot dogs since Gigi filled his locker with them at the private school we all attended between acting gigs.

It was one of the few times I've ever seen Jasper embarrassed, all those sad, floppy links falling out of his locker without any explanation. He tried to play it off, but the poor guy smelled like hot dogs for the next week, the stench clinging to everything.

Cait—who I now owe tremendously—effectively takes the heat off me, turning the conversation to her and reminiscing about our childhood days.

Meanwhile, I pray the rest of the evening doesn't take this same turn, getting bombarded with questions about Olive.

They hurt too much.

"Thanks for your time," I hear Gigi say; then Dylan's hand lands on my arm, tugging me along.

Cait follows closely, and just as we step up to the next reporter, there is no mistaking that someone new has entered the event.

"Jasper! Over here!"

"Jasper! Have you talked to Olive?"

"Can we get a photo of the whole Rafferty clan?"

"Are you and Keely dating?"

"Keely, look here!"

The chaos pulls everyone's attention, all eyes on the good-looking couple as they strut down the red carpet, dressed to the nines—Jasper in an all-black suit and Keely in a bright-pink dress that clings to every inch of her.

They look picture perfect together, like a prom king and queen.

As if he can feel our eyes on him, Jasper looks our way.

His mouth drops open, and he points; then, in total Jasper fashion, he sprints down the carpet right to us, ignoring the lines of shouting photographers.

He scoops Cait up in a hug, laughing when she smacks at him, then wraps his arm around me too.

"Gosh, I can't believe you're both here." He winks because he can believe it. We literally just talked to him this morning. He's playing it up for the cameras. "The Three Rafferty-teers, back together again."

He squeezes us in tight, and I fight the urge to punch him in the stomach just because I can.

"Jasper, that's where you ran off to," Keely says, strutting up to us with a smile fixed on her face but fire in her eyes.

She is not impressed by Jasper's antics, which kind of makes me love them a little.

Keely tries to push herself into the group by nudging Cait out of the way, but my sister, the little rebel, doesn't budge, forcing Keely to find a spot at the end.

"Jude, so great to see you again," she says to me.

I nod at her.

"I didn't think you'd be here after the whole leaked-diary thing. Kind of weird your girlfriend has a thing for your brother, isn't it? Especially when he's clearly taken."

She tosses her head back on a laugh, and the reporter laughs along uncomfortably, but she's the only one.

Cait is too busy glaring at her, Jasper's too busy looking everywhere else, and I'm too damn busy being pissed.

In what world does she think that's an okay thing to say? She's been in this industry as long as we have. She knows better than to bait the press like that.

"Jude ..." Dylan says from behind me, and I turn to find her with a tight smile plastered across her face. "Let's move on, shall we?"

I've never wanted to hug Dylan so badly before.

"Tell Olive I said hi!" Keely shoots my way, laughing loudly again.

Maybe I'm wrong but ... is that bitterness I hear in her voice?

Is Keely mad at me for our fake date? Because I didn't kiss her?

No. That felt like a whole lifetime ago. Besides, none of it was real, and she knew that going in. She's not mad about that. She couldn't be.

I'm sure I'm imagining it.

"Hmm," is all I can muster as a response before I move on with Cait.

We make two more stops, and I'm asked several questions, but I can't recall a single one—nor the answers I give.

All I can think about is the tightness in Keely's eyes and the animosity in her tone.

It's still sitting in the forefront of my mind when we're ushered inside the theater.

Dylan and Cait head for the bathroom while I hurry for the bar.

I could really use a drink right about now.

I order a whiskey on the rocks, then rest my elbows on the counter, tucking my head low between my shoulders in hopes nobody stops to chat, because I am so not feeling it right now.

I want to get through this night, then go home and sleep for twelve hours so I can forget all about the questions about Olive I keep getting.

All it does is dredge up memories I'm not sure I'll ever be able to shake.

"I'm telling you, he's totally clueless, Whit."

My ears perk up. I'd know that grating voice anywhere.

Keely.

"Are you sure he doesn't know?"

"No way," Keely says, sounding closer and closer by the minute. "He's so dumb. Pretty, but dumb. He's basically a frat boy, and it's comical. He was clueless when I got into his phone and took those screenshots, sent them to myself, then deleted the whole text thread."

Wait a second. Does she mean ...

The other woman, Whit, cackles. "God, you're so bad, Keely. That was mean to leak someone's diary. I'd be mortified."

No. No, no, no. NO!

It was Keely? Keely leaked Olive's diary? But why?

"Well, she deserved it."

"You're really still mad Jude didn't kiss you?"

"Um, yes! Talk about mortifying. Ev-ery-one saw him reject me. And for what? A few headlines that ultimately went nowhere?" Keely huffs. "Clearly, going after his older, dumb brother was what I should have done from the beginning."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me."

I lift my head at the new voice, turning to find my brother seething.

He's staring—no, he's glaring—right at Keely, whose jaw is sagging, her eyes wide.

The people gathered around the bar are now fully invested in whatever's happening, all their conversations coming to a screeching halt, their eyes trained on Jasper and Keely.

"J-Jasper! Where did you come from?" She looks around, panicked, as she steps toward him, placing her hand on his chest. "Let's go talk, huh?"

"Fuck no!" my brother says loudly, pulling away from her, his lips curled up in disgust. "I don't want to go anywhere with you. How could you do that to Olive? To Jude? To me?"

Keely lifts her nose in the air. "I'm not discussing this with you when you're being like this."

My body shakes with pent-up anger, and I'm lucky I have this bar to hold me steady right now. Is that really where she's going with this? Like this is all his fault and not hers?

"You're a real fucking piece of work, you know that?"

"Jasper!" She stomps her foot, crossing her arms over her chest. It's cute when Olive does it, but Keely? She looks like a petulant child right now. Like she can't believe that he's upset.

Jasper is right. She is a real piece of work.

I push off the bar, drawing my brother's attention.

"Jude, I swear, I didn't—"

I hold my hand up, stopping him. "I know, big brother. I know." I turn to Keely. "You should probably leave."

"E-Excuse me?" She looks around in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm really not."

"Have you forgotten who I am?"

I sneer down at her. "You do know who I am, don't you?"

"I ... I ..." She sputters out a choked laugh, looking around like she's waiting for someone to jump to her rescue, but it's not happening.

Nobody steps up. Not a single soul.

She scoffs, turning her nose back up. "Fine. Whatever. We're leaving. Come on, Whit."

"A-Actually, my date is over there ..." Her friend points behind her, slowly backing away.

"Fine," Keely snaps, lifting the hem of her dress and stomping away, but not before sending one last sneer over her shoulder, directed right at me and Jasper. "Fucking Raffertys."

The crowd goes back to their chatter now that the drama is done, and Jasper and I exchange a look ... then burst into laughter at the same time.

And that's what we do for the next few minutes—laugh. Long and loud. I don't know why. Maybe the absurdity of it all. Maybe because that's all we can do to stop us from ordering an entire bottle of whiskey. Or maybe it's because if I don't laugh, I'll do something else, like run from the building and straight to Olive.

Jasper claps his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tight as we begin to sober up. It's one of those We're going to be okay kind of squeezes. The kind that says, You're my brother, and I'll always have your back.

Cait emerges from the crowd. Her eyes bounce between me and Jasper, both of us still grinning like fools.

"Hey, guys. What'd I miss?"

And we fall into a fit of laughter all over again.

For the first time in two weeks, I get the feeling that everything is going to be okay.