Page 95 of Bad at Love

As for her house, well, I need to get by there asap before there’s a real issue with the city. My mother hasn’t been there in months, not since she went into the living facility. I was supposed to go there when I got here to check everything out. Only when I got outside, I chickened out.

I don’t know what my issue is with that house and why I can’t fathom going inside. Maybe because it was like a prison when I was a kid. It always felt like the walls were closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe. Because I learned exactly what disappointment was in that house, over and over and over again. And though we got by and my mother and I didn’t have a horrible relationship, my childhood was not great. Though, compared to Gabe’s, I think he wins the gold medal in that department.

Nothing significant happened in my childhood house to make me afraid of it. For the most part, my mother was loving and did her best with me. So I need to suck it up and just go. Get it over with. In fact, I should do it now.

Pulling out my phone, I order a ride share as I take the stairs two at a time to put on my shoes. I grab a granola bar from the cabinet and wait on the front porch for the car that takes me to my mother’s house, the house I grew up in, which is a twenty-minute drive. He stops on the opposite side of the street, and I get out, giving him a tip on the app as he drives off. Taking a deep breath, I look up, preparing to cross the street and go inside. Only my feet don’t move and my throat feels like it’s closing up.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Gabriel

When I pull up to the address Storm gave me, I find him sitting across the street on the ground, leaning up against an old brick wall, knees pulled up to his chest, head rested back and eyes closed.

I don’t know why I’m here.

Actually, I do know why I’m here. Because he called and asked me to come.

I get out of the car, and the door closing has him opening his eyes and lifting his head. I walk until I’m standing in front of him.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“Here?” I look around us, at the unfamiliar neighborhood, surprised no one has called the cops yet. Then my gaze goes to the dirty ground.

Storm gets up without a word, wiping the pebbles and dirt off his butt.

“In the car?”

I huff out a sigh. “Fine, but turn around.”

Confused, he does as I say, and I do a better job of wiping off his butt. When he turns to face me, he’s smirking.

“You could have just said you wanted to touch my butt.”

“It was dirty,” I argue.

“Uh-huh.”

We cross the street and get into the car.

“Why am I here? Where are we?” I ask.

Storm chews on the corner of his lip, staring forward for a long moment before answering. “This is my mother’s house.”

“Okay,” I say carefully, leaning over to look at it. “Why did you lie about it? You said you wanted to live in my house because it was close to her. This is across the city.”

Storm shakes his head, running a hand down his face.

“She lives at the Green Willow Living Facility.”

Oh… Well, that’s not what I expected to hear.

“Which is—”

“A few blocks away from you. Yeah.”

“I don’t understand why you would hide that. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if she lives in a place like that. Plenty of people do.”

“I’m not ashamed,” he says flatly. “I’m just… Fuck, I don’t even know. I’m a fucking mess, is what I am.”

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