Jake and I had spent our entire childhood making bets—who could run faster, climb higher, or take the biggest risk. It was never about winning or losing. It was about the thrill, the push, the unspoken bond we had. But years later, when I won our final bet, there was no victory—only heartbreak, the kind I never saw coming.
Our friendship started before we could even walk. Our moms loved to tell the story: two toddlers in diapers, fighting over a toy truck at daycare. They thought it was funny how we were always competing, even back then.
We grew up side by side, our houses just a few doors apart. If I wasn’t home, my parents knew exactly where to find me—at Jake’s, and vice versa. We did everything together. But the thing that really defined our friendship? The bets.
“Bet you can’t make it to the end of the block before me,” Jake would challenge, grinning.
“Bet you I can,” I’d shoot back, already sprinting.
We bet on everything—who could eat more pizza, who could hold their breath the longest, who would get the best grades. It wasn’t about the winnings. It was about proving something to each other, pushing each other to be better, braver, stronger.
No one understood our friendship the way we did. It wasn’t just about competition—it was about trust. If Jake dared me to do something crazy, I knew he’d do it too. If I jumped, he jumped. That was just how it worked.
Then, one night, everything changed.
We were sixteen, lying on the roof of my house, staring up at the stars. It was one of those nights where the air felt thick with something unspoken, the kind of night where you felt like you could talk about anything.
“Paul,” Jake said, his voice softer than usual, “we should make the ultimate bet.”
I turned my head to look at him. “Yeah? What kind of bet?”
“Who lives longer.”
I let out a short laugh. “That’s a dumb bet. How would we even know who won?”
Jake smirked. “Easy. Whoever goes first owes the other a beer.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Fine. But you better not lose.”
Jake grinned. “I never lose.”
For the first time, I wished he had been right.
Falling for Laura wasn’t something I planned. It just happened.
She was different—smart, funny, kind. She made me feel like I mattered. We’d been friends for a while, but somewhere along the way, I realized I wanted more.
The problem was Jake. I wasn’t sure how he’d take it. We never let anything come between us before, but this felt… different.
One day, Jake caught me staring at Laura in the hallway.
“You like her, don’t you?” he asked, smirking.
I hesitated. “Yeah. I do.”
His grin widened. “Then let’s make it interesting. First one to take her out wins.”
I blinked. “What?”
“A bet,” he said. “You and me. Whoever asks her out first, gets her.”
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the rush of competition. I didn’t want to win. I just wanted her.
“She’s not a game, Jake,” I said quietly. “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.”
He laughed. “You’re acting like you’re in love with her or something.”
I clenched my fists. “Maybe I am.”
His smile vanished. “Oh.”
I shook my head and turned to leave. “I’m done with this, Jake.”
I didn’t see Laura standing nearby. I didn’t know she had heard everything.
“Paul,” she called out, catching up to me.
I stopped, my heart pounding. “Laura.”
She smiled. “You really meant that?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
She reached for my hand, lacing her fingers with mine. “Then let’s make it official.”
Jake was furious. He told everyone I had stabbed him in the back, that I had always been jealous of him. I tried to fix things, but he wouldn’t listen.
By the time graduation came, Jake was gone. He left town without a word.
Life moved on. Laura and I got married, bought a house, built a life. Our daughter, Emily, was born a few years later. I was happy. But some nights, I’d sit outside and let my mind drift back to the past. To Jake.
I wondered where he ended up. If he ever thought about me. If he ever regretted the way things ended.
Then, one day, I got a letter.
Paul,
I’m back in town. It’s been too long. Meet me at O’Malley’s tomorrow at seven. Let’s talk.
—Jake
That was it. No explanation, no apology. Just an invitation.
The next evening, I arrived early, scanning the room for Jake. But he wasn’t there.
A waitress approached. “You Paul?”
I nodded.
She handed me a folded note and set a pint of beer down in front of me. “He asked me to give you this.”
My stomach dropped. “Where is he?”
She hesitated. “Just read it.” Then she walked away.
My hands shook as I unfolded the letter.
Paul,
If you’re reading this, I didn’t make it. My last wish was to come home.
I got sick right after graduation. Skin cancer. I fought for years, but it came back worse. The doctors said I was out of options.
I didn’t write to make you feel bad. I wrote because I didn’t want to 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.
And as for that last bet… well, looks like you won, my friend. The beer’s on me.
—Jake
I clutched the letter, my chest tightening. I had come expecting a second chance. Instead, I got a goodbye I never wanted.
A week later, I stood at Jake’s grave, a pint of beer in my hand. I knelt down, brushing my fingers over the stone.
“Hey, Jake.” My voice cracked. “Guess you really went through with it, huh?”
I pulled off the cap, setting the beer down. “You still owe me a rematch,” I muttered. “But I guess this’ll have to do.”
I smiled through the tears. “I forgive you, Jake. I forgave you a long time ago.”
As we walked away, I glanced back one last time. The pain was still there. It probably always would be. But 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.
