Chapter 3: Jake Crosses the Line

Jake fixed me with a lazy, lopsided grin, mischief in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he loved being the center of attention.

“Jealous?”

“Em, he’s jealous!”

“He gets jealous so easy. Doesn’t he know we even used to take baths and catch crawdads together as kids?”

The words stung more than I expected, especially the casual way he tossed them out. I felt a fresh wave of embarrassment at the thought of the whole family hearing about their muddy, bare-footed adventures—like I’d never be part of the joke.

“Enough, that’s enough, you’ve had too much,” Emily snapped, pulling away from him and glaring.

She yanked herself free, face flushing red with anger, but Jake just grinned drunkenly, spread his arms, and sprawled across our wedding bed.

He looked like a dog rolling on a fresh patch of grass—comfortable, defiant, and totally out of line. I wanted to drag him up and toss him out, but the eyes on us kept my hands at my sides.

“I’m not drunk, Em. You’re my best friend. As your childhood buddy, I have to help you test the bed!”

My fingers curled so tight I could feel my wedding band dig into my skin. If not for the crowd, I might’ve lost it right then.

Emily hurried over to calm me down.

She whispered so only I could hear, her hand finding mine. "Honey, he just acts nuts when he’s drunk. Don’t stoop to his level."

Her touch helped, but only a little. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“Who says I’m drunk? I keep saying I’m not, but no one believes me.”

Jake propped himself up, gaze landing on the bedside lamp.

He squinted at the lamp, then at me, as if daring me to care about something so small in the middle of all this.

“Hey, this thing’s too bright.”

He reached out and turned it off.

The click was almost deafening. My mom, who’d stayed in the hallway, gasped softly. In my family, leaving the lamp on all night was a wedding tradition—something about keeping the new couple’s luck burning bright.

I saw red. Maybe it was superstition, but at that moment, it felt like a deliberate slap in the face—like he wanted to sabotage our happiness just because he could.

In my family, the wedding night lamp is a symbol of good luck—it’s supposed to stay on all night. Even the bulb is special, so it won’t go out—for good fortune.

The tension in the air turned brittle. I could feel everyone’s eyes darting between us, waiting for the explosion.

I rushed over and grabbed him by the collar.

Marcus leapt from the crowd, raising his fist.

Emily’s friends glared at Marcus, ready to jump in.

The energy in the room shifted—suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. Voices rose, hands flew up to block the way. My heart hammered in my chest, adrenaline surging.

“What are you doing?!”

“Try me! I dare you!”

A fight was about to break out. Emily quickly turned the lamp back on and ran to me.

She flipped the switch, flooding the room in warm yellow light again, and rushed over to put herself between me and Jake, her voice frantic.

“Honey, don’t be mad. I’ll get him out right now!”

She dragged Jake up, giving him a hard shove toward the door.

Jake yelped, stumbling as Emily pushed him out, finally letting her frustration show. The crowd parted for him, murmuring.

“Get out!”

He paused, then flashed a sarcastic grin and gave a half-hearted salute, winking like a sitcom villain.

“Sorry, brother Ryan, looks like I really am drunk tonight. Wishing you two a love that lasts forever, ha!”

The door swung shut behind him, leaving behind the echo of his words and a room full of awkward silence.