Page 88 of The Best Kind of Bad

“Yes, to meet the man himself.” Dusty says, grinning.

“You better have bigger plans for my little girl’s birthday than to visit an old drunk.”

I wince. “Dad.”

Dad smiles at me, touching my hand before glancing at Dusty. “She doesn’t like it went I put myself down.”

I glower at him. “No. I do not.”

Dusty nods. “She doesn’t like it when I do that, either.”

“But it’s only putting yourself down if it’s not fair.” His expression is calm. Placid. “And it would be fair to say that this is entirely my fault.”

“You have a chronic disorder.” I say, sitting taller. “Not a behavior problem.”

Dad smiles gently at me. “Oh, I had a behavior problem, alright. I should have tried harder.” He looks at Dusty. “You don’t have a drinking problem. Do you, son?”

“No, sir.” Dusty says. “I like to have a drink now and then, but I like to think I know when enough’s enough. My dad had problems, though. It’s what took his life. He was drinking and driving and got into a car wreck.”

I turn to look at Dusty, surprised. I knew his dad was in a car accident, courtesy of the well-intentioned Andy Reed, but I didn’t know he had been drinking. It shouldn’t make a difference, but it does. Just in the sense that both of our fathers had battles with alcohol abuse. Empathy can only take you so far in these sorts of situations. You really have to have been touched by this kind of pain to understand.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dad says, studying Dusty. “And I’m sorry if I’m coming across as a bit pushy.” He waves a finger in a circle. “Limited time, here.”

Dusty smiles. “I’m a fan of cutting right to the chase.”

We chat for a while longer and I can feel my dad warming up to Dusty. I cut the visit off before dad can do something even more embarrassing. Like asking Dusty to look after me.

When we finally step out of the care center, I take a deep breath.

The sun is on its way down. It’s going to be a beautiful summer night. The kind where you can sit outside and eat and drink.

Leaving that place always makes me feel starved for life.

For vibrancy and feeling.

I need to shake it off and remember that I am whole and healthy.

Thoughts lurk in the shadows, the way they always do, grim reminders that one day soon, I will be absolutely alone in this world.

But I think that’s why these friendships seem more important than ever.

I glance up at Dusty. He’s walking alongside me with a pensive look on those handsome features. I wish I could hold on to him, make him promise never to leave.

But he’s young. He doesn’t know what he wants yet. In all likelihood, he will eventually get bored with me.

There are no guarantees in life. You don’t know how much time you’re going to get or what the next year might bring. For better or worse, that’s the way it goes.

Right now, this charming, kind, and incredibly sexy man is mine.

And that is not a gift I’m going to throw away.

58.

Dusty

We drive to a tapas restaurant south of town.

What the fuck are tapas?

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