Page 112 of Bad at Love

“A way to get your mind off your life? Yeah, I know all about that. Mikah did it to me. Nearly killed me, I think.”

Dom picks up his drink. “So tell me what’s going on, so I can spare you and your boyfriend the pain.”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Maybe not, but he will be.”

I shake my head, flagging down the waiter when I see him walk by.

“Can we get two shots of whiskey, please?”

“And another round of beers,” Dominic adds.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I’ll be right back with that.”

After staring at me for too long, Dom says, “Well?”

“I need alcohol if I’m going to talk about this.”

He holds his hands up. “Fine.”

I’ve just taken my third shot when I get the balls to speak about all this.

“Where do you want me to start?” I ask, holding Dominic’s gaze.

“Your mother,” he says.

With a heavy sigh, I get into it. I tell him why I moved to Seattle. The stroke. Her house. Life support. All of it.

“Fucking hell, Storm,” he says, jerking his hand up for the waiter. “Better make these beers some whiskeys.”

“Tequila shots!” I call out when he takes off.

“Damn, you’re really trying to get fucked up tonight, aren’t you?” he says around a laugh. Once we have our new drinks, he gives me a look and I know the joking is gone again. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad you’re here, and you’re always welcometo spend time with me and Mikah. I’m sorry you’re going through this. Losing a parent isn’t easy…”

Dominic lost his mother when he was a teenager, so he gets it. I’ve known that about him for a while now. It’s not something he hides.

“No, it’s not.” I sip my whiskey, hoping like hell this mix of alcohol doesn’t make me sick.

“But I know this isn’t really why you’re here. This,” he gestures around us, “has nothing to do with your mother, Storm.”

I nod in agreement. He’s right.

“Yeah…”

“So, spill.”

Where do I begin…

Chapter Forty-Five

Gabriel

Defeated and utterly disappointed, I drop my backpack just inside the front door and drop onto the couch. Three days on Kauai and I couldn’t find him. Which means he wasn’t there. I just missed him, I guess. If only I’d thought to look there sooner, maybe I’d have run into him.

I checked with the front desk and they told me they didn’t remember seeing anyone like Storm and they didn’t recall the name. Of course they couldn’t go digging through their files. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. I asked them to though; I didn’t care. I’m ready to do anything to just talk to him one more time. To tell him how I feel, lay it all out. I need to get this off my chest, and he needs to know the truth—even if it’s not what he wants to hear.

I want to let him know that I’ll be patient with him the way he was for me. That I understand he’s struggling with being attached to things, and that’s okay. We don’t have to rush into anything. I need to explain every little thing to him so he understands and knows where I’m coming from and how I feel. And if he still chooses to not be with me, well, I guess all I can say is I tried my best. At least I tried.

---