Page 42 of Broken Hearts

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “And thanks for the drink. I really need it tonight.”

We chat mindlessly, with Eddie sharing stories all about my dad and tons of pictures he has, including one of my dad drinking in his bar with nothing but a surfboard covering him. He was obviously much younger in the picture and it’s not hard to see why my mom was drawn to him all those years ago. People on the island love him.

Eddie never stops the Mai Tai serving, bringing me one every time my glass is nearly empty, and within a couple of hours, I’m completely drunk.

“Bring me another Mai Tai!” I call out, slamming my hands down on the well-worn wooden bar.

Eddie laughs but shakes his head. “You’re done for the night, Sage. I’ve called you a ride.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet of you,” I croon, pushing out my bottom lip. “I don’t need a ride. I’ll walk home. It’s only…”

And that’s when Nate walks through the door. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. Eddie called Nate. I thought we were friends and now he’s got this jerk coming to get me. I’m drunk, not stupid.

“Oh my god, you called him,” I wail, covering my face with my hands. “He hates me.” I let out a low moan, letting my head fall to the bar, my arms going over it.

“He hates everyone,” Eddie mutters back to me, patting the back of my head.

“Let’s go, Mai Tai Queen,” Nate says, holding out a hand, and I push it away, hauling myself out of the barstool.

But in typical drunk girl fashion, I stumble wildly, nearly falling on my face. Not that this stops me from trying to walk out of the bar on my own.

Putting one foot in front of the other like I’m desperately trying to pass a field sobriety test, I make my way over to the door. Newsflash, I wouldn’t pass a sobriety test even if the police officer were blind.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’ll get her home,” Nate says, and I hate how I love the way his voice sounds, the low timbre sending a shudder up my spine, making me want to forgive him for being a dick.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’ll get her home,” I mock, my voice high-pitched and annoying as Nate tries to slip an arm around my waist. “I’m fine!” I screech, pushing him away again.

“Good luck!” I hear Eddie call out as I shove the door open and stumble out into the parking lot.

“You wanna eat gravel tonight?” Nate asks, and that’s the last thing I remember.

As soon as I wake up, I know everything is very wrong. I’m still wearing the dress I had on last night, and when I swallow, my mouth tastes of old booze. My teeth feel like they’re going to rot out of my head with the sweetness that still lingers on my tongue.

I try to sit up, but my body feels like it got hit by a truck: every muscle, every nerve, every inch of my body aches. I slowly open my eyes, immediately regretting that decision as the sun streams in from this damn island paradise.

“Isn’t it ever cloudy here?” I mutter, pushing my palms against my eyes as they begin to feel like my retinas are being seared by the blinding sun.

Building up the courage, I swing my legs off the side of the bed, but my eyes remain closed. But when I open them, I wish like hell I hadn’t.

There’s Nate, asleep on the couch across from me, looking stupidly gorgeous, even in his sleep. I’m certain I look like a sewer rat on the hunt for garbage. At least that’s what I feel like.

What the hell is he doing here?

“It’s never cloudy here,” Nate responds back, cracking one eye open as he looks over at where I’m currently sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What the hell happened last night?” I don’t know why I ask it. It’s more of a rhetorical question. I don’t really need an answer from him.

“You got a little drunk last night and Eddie gave me a call to come get?—”

He doesn’t have a chance to finish his thought before I’m sprinting from the bed and into the bathroom. Falling to the floor, I retch over the toilet, my stomach emptying nearly everything I drank last night.

My head is resting on the toilet seat, not caring in the least but needing the cold porcelain to ease my throbbing head. It does nothing, and all I can think about is Nate sitting out in the living room, probably loving that I’ve put myself in this position.

That’s when I feel a cold rag against the back of my neck. He hands another to me, and I wipe my mouth. Falling back against the wall, I close my eyes, but nothing seems to help.

“Mai Tai,” I mutter, my stomach churning at the word.

“Gets the tourists every time,” Nate replies, a kindness to his words that weren’t there last night when we had that stupid argument.

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