Jake and I spent our childhood in a constant rivalry—who could run the fastest, climb the highest, take the biggest risks. But when I ultimately won our last wager, there was no exhilaration in victory, only an unexpected ache.
We had been best friends since before we could walk. Our mothers loved to recount the tale of two toddlers in diapers, both stubbornly clutching the same toy truck at daycare, neither willing to let go. From that moment on, we were inseparable.
We grew up just a few houses apart. If Jake wasn’t at home, his mom would check my place, and vice versa. We were brothers in every sense except blood. But what truly defined our bond? The bets.
“Bet you can’t reach the end of the block before me,” Jake would challenge, already taking off.
“Bet I can,” I’d retort, my legs pumping.
We wagered on everything—who could hold their breath the longest, who could devour the most slices of pizza, who could score the highest on a test. The outcomes didn’t matter; what counted was the challenge, the drive, the proof that we were always pushing each other to be better and bolder.
And most importantly, that we had each other’s backs.
Then, one night, everything changed.
At sixteen, we lay on the roof of my house, gazing up at an infinite sky. It was one of those nights where silence felt comfortable and safe.
“Paul,” Jake said, his voice unusually soft. “We should make the ultimate bet.”
I turned to him. “Yeah? What kind of bet?”
He smirked. “Who lives longer.”
I let out a short laugh. “That’s ridiculous. How would we even know who won?”
“Simple,” Jake replied. “Whoever goes first owes the other a beer.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Fine. But you better not lose.”
His grin widened. “I never lose.”
For years, I believed that.
Then Laura entered the picture.
I hadn’t intended to fall for her; it just happened.
She was different from the other girls at school—there was something genuine about her. She was kind, witty, and when she laughed, it felt like the world lit up. I tried to ignore my feelings, to pretend they didn’t exist. But one day, Jake caught me staring at her in the hallway.
“You like her, don’t you?” he asked, smirking.
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
His smirk transformed into a grin. “Let’s make it interesting. First one to ask her out wins.”
I blinked. “What?”
“A bet,” he reiterated. “Whoever takes her out first gets her.”
For the first time, I didn’t want to compete.
“She’s not a game, Jake,” I said firmly. “She’s a person.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Paul. We’ve bet on everything. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is that this actually matters.”
His expression shifted, the laughter in his eyes fading. “You’re acting like you’re in love with her or something.”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe I am.”
That was the moment everything between us began to fracture.
I didn’t know Laura had overheard. I didn’t know she would approach me after school, smile, and take my hand as if she had already made her choice.
Jake was furious.
At first, he tried to play it off, making jokes about how I’d “cheated.” But then the rumors started. He told people I had betrayed him, that I had always been envious of him, that I had chosen a girl over my best friend.
I tried to mend things. “Jake, this isn’t about you and me. It’s about her.”
“She was supposed to be a bet,” he snapped. “Not the reason you turned against me.”
“I never turned against you,” I replied. “You made this into a conflict, not me.”
But he wouldn’t listen.
By the time graduation rolled around, Jake was gone. He packed up and left town without a word.
Just like that, my best friend—the person I trusted more than anyone—became a stranger.
Life went on.
Laura and I built a life together, filled with love and laughter. We got married, bought a house not far from where we grew up, and eventually welcomed our daughter, Emily. She had Laura’s eyes and my stubbornness. Every time she giggled, the world felt right.
Yet, on some quiet nights, my mind would drift.
I wondered where Jake was. If he ever thought of me. If he regretted how things ended.
Then, one afternoon, I received a letter in the mail. The handwriting on the envelope made my heart race.
Jake.
It was brief.
“I’m back in town. It’s been too long. Meet me at O’Malley’s tomorrow at seven. Let’s talk.”
No explanation. No apology. Just an invitation.
Laura noticed the look on my face. “Are you going?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
The next evening, I arrived at O’Malley’s early, expecting to see Jake in a corner booth, grinning as if nothing had changed.
But he wasn’t there.
Instead, a waitress approached me, holding a folded piece of paper. “He asked me to give this to you.”
Confused, I opened it.
“Paul, if you’re reading this, I didn’t make it. My last wish was to be buried in my hometown.”
My stomach twisted. I forced myself to keep reading.
“I got sick after graduation. Skin cancer. Thought I had beaten it, but it returned worse. I didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t want you to see me like that. But I couldn’t leave without fixing what I broke.”
“I was a damn fool, Paul. I let my pride ruin our friendship. You were my brother, and I threw it away over a stupid bet. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just hope you know I never stopped missing you.”
“And as for that last bet… well, looks like you won, my friend. The beer’s on me.”
Tears blurred my vision. I stared at the pint in front of me. I lifted it, my voice barely a whisper.
“You idiot.”
The beer tasted bitter. Or maybe it was just the grief.
A week later, I stood at his grave.
“Guess you really went through with it, huh?” My voice cracked. “You still owe me a rematch.”
I placed a pint of beer next to his headstone.
“I forgive you, Jake. I forgave you a long time ago.”
As I walked away, Laura squeezed my hand. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I had lost my best friend.
I felt like I had finally said goodbye.