Page 6 of Searching for Hope

Dominic raises his glass. “You don’t need to say any more.” He laughs again as I put the phone back into the holster. “I’m honored to be the person you chose to practice your escapism with.”

Over the next couple of hours, I drink more than I’ve ever drank before. Dominic and I laugh and screech as we relay stories to each other. We turn up the music and dance, our moves sloppy and unrehearsed. We even go swimming in nothing but our underwear. We’re both laughing as we stumble back inside, Dominic promising to get us something to eat. A woman looks up, startled when we enter the kitchen. She’s wearing a bathrobe and as soon as her eyes lock with mine she ducks her head and turns away.

“Dommie, you didn’t tell me we had company.” Her voice is small and weak and when she reaches out to grab her glass of wine her hand trembles.

Dominic walks over and hugs her from behind. “Sorry, Mother. But it’s only Berkley. I told you about her, remember?”

She moves away from her son but she keeps her back to me. “Go away.” She waves her hand in dismissal. “You’re all wet.”

For the briefest of moments, she glances over her shoulder and I catch a glimpse of the scars on her face. They are deep and ragged.

“Nice meeting you, Berkley.” She nods, the hair hanging over her face rippling with the movement, and walks out of the room, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and her glass in the other.

Dominic watches her as she leaves and there’s heartbreak in his eyes. He sighs as he turns back to me. “Sorry, she doesn’t like it when I have people over.”

Without thinking, I lift my hand to my cheek as though I can feel her scars on my own skin.

“Car accident. Drunk driver,” Dominic says.

“I’m so sorry.” I’m unsure what else to say.

“Don’t be.” A hardness passes over his face. “She was the drunk one.” He stands in the middle of the kitchen just staring at the place his mother was standing moments before. Gone is any of our drunken joviality and in its place is a sort of awkward heaviness.

“I should go,” I say.

Dominic’s eyes snap to mine. “Don’t.” He takes a step forward. “Please don’t. It’s nice to have someone else in the house. It gets a little too much living here at times.”

I place my hand on his arm. “Why don’t you get your own apartment?”

He smiles but it’s a sad smile. “I can’t leave her. I’m all she’s got.”

“What about your father?”

“Why do you think she got behind the wheel of a car drunk in the first place?” He looks back over to where his mother was and then takes a deep breath. “Come on, I think it’s time we turned the music back up, don’t you?” He walks over to the stereo and turns up the volume before extending his hand to me. “Want to dance?”

Taking his hand, I spin into his arms and we dance until we can barely breathe and flop onto the sofa. Not long after, Dominic falls asleep, clutching an empty bottle of wine. As he snores, I’m left alone with my thoughts. Thoughts that tell me, even in my intoxicated state, I should feel stupid for running away. Thoughts that center on a certain man so viciously, the need to see him hurts.

Stumbling through the house, I make my way outside and start walking down the road. But I don’t know where I am and I don’t know where I’m going. After a few blocks of disorientation, I give up, pulling out my phone and powering it back on to call Jericho.

He answers on the first ring. “Berkley?” I expect his voice to be laced with concern and worry. It’s not. My name is barked out in annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” I say, stumbling over my words. “I shouldn’t have—”

He doesn’t ask where I am or if I’m okay. He merely says, “Barrett is on his way,” and then he hangs up.

And sure enough, a few minutes later the car appears around the corner, Barrett at the wheel. He gets out and pops the boot, holding out a jacket for me to shrug into. It smells like Jericho.

“How did you find me?” I ask, trying to hide the fact that I’m inhaling the scent of the jacket.

His eyes narrow when I hiccup but he doesn’t say anything about my drunken state. “Your phone.”

“Oh,” is all I say. I’m not surprised. Part of me doesn’t even blame him. He told me time and time again to be careful and I ran as soon as I got the chance. Stupid girl.

Barrett holds the door open. “Come on, he’s waiting.”

chapter three

BERKLEY

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