Page 25 of Lovers Like Us
“Thank you,” he says, grabbing his jeans from thefloor.
“No problem.” Oscar flashes a wince at me. “Boyfriend’s parents are already pissed at you, Redford. I don’t envy yourposition.”
I’d sayparents love me, but I’m not a liar or a kiss ass. And I’m painfully certain that I’ve fallen onto Loren Hale’s permanent shitlist.
5
MAXIMOFF HALE
Whatever I planned to say,whatever I thought I’d feel—it all just disappears when I see my dad. He paces from the living room fireplace to the window. Pauses. His hand balls in a fist. He glances towards thekitchen.
Looking. Andlongingforsomething.
Notsomeone.
I’ve seen that craving before. A look that screams,just one drink.For as long as I’ve been alive, he’s never fed that demon. Never sippedalcohol.
Never brokesobriety.
But he’s lookingagain.
I stand on the second floor balcony that oversees the living room with vaulted ceilings and skyscraping windows. Sunlight pierces leather furniture and wooden floors, and outside, snow dumps hard in the coldmorning.
I can’t help but think abouteverythingI unloaded on him at the Charity Camp-Away. When he didn’t believe me about the rumor, I yelled at him in a way that I never do. I showed my disappointment. I iced himout.
Wounds are still open. Freshly cut. And what if I pushed him? What if I caused him hurt so deep that he’d want to numb it withwhiskey?
My chest is onfire.
I death-grip my phone, and I loosen my clutch at the sight of a rugged and brooding Ryke Meadows. My dad’s half-brother who’s one yearolder.
Any anger I had at Ryke’s reaction towards my boyfriend—it takes a backburner right now. I’m glad my uncle is here in case my dad needshim.
Connor Cobalt saunters confidently past the leather couch to reach my dad and Ryke. I didn’t think my uncles would join my parents at the lake house, but as they place a hand on my dad’s shoulder and speak toughly but calmly—I realize they’re here forhim.
They’re his support. And my dad isn’tokay.
“Moffy,” Connor says and angles his body towards the balcony. All their eyes meetmine.
Spotted.
My dad rubs the back of his neck. His cheekbones as sharp as ice, and brows pinched in a multitude of tangled emotions. “Can we talk?” heasks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
We all agree to take a short hike to the hot tub. Apparently the blizzard is moving east, so we just have to deal with five inches of snow andcounting.
After putting on winter gear, the four of us trek up a snowy ridge. Weaving through skeletal maple trees. Ryke and I gain a good amount of distance on my dad and Connor. Both out ofearshot.
So I ask him, “Did he relapse?” I should’ve kept my phone on. I should’ve talked to my dad. I should’ve called him and not acted like a fuckingpunk—
“No,” Ryke says, our gazes attached for a painfulsecond.
“He almost did,” I infer, my breath smoking the air. Guilt crushes myribs.
“It’s not your fucking fault,” he tells me. “Your dad would neverput this on you.” I feel his narrowed gaze, but I just stare straightahead.
I lick my chapped lips. “I keep thinking about what happens if I accidentally break my dad down. I keep thinking of how it’ll tear apart my mom, my sisters—God,Xander…”
