Page 24 of PS: I Hate You

The moment disappears as quick as sugar on my tongue, with Dom prying us apart, his unyielding hands on my shoulders to hold me at bay.

“Maddie,” he rasps. “We can’t.”

But that’s a lie.

We can. Easily.

He’s divorced. I’m single. And my brother—who may or may not have lodged a protest against his best friend hooking up with his sister—is gone.

We can.

Dom should’ve been honest and said the words he actually meant.

Maddie. I don’t want you. I never did.

Silly me forgot. The alcohol eased my protective shields, but a sober wave brought on by rejection helps them slam back into place.

“Obviously. We’re not going to do anything.” I swat Dom’s hands away, realizing he pulled me to my feet during the lip lock.

Good. That’ll make it easier to get away. I dodge around him and power walk toward my room—I can read the number clearly now.

“Maddie, wait.” His heavy footsteps follow me, but I don’t look back.

Instead, I focus on properly swiping my key card as my mouth goes on defense. “Did you think that meant something?” I force a laugh that comes out too sharp. “No. See, I just realized I’ve never tossed anyone’s salad before. Wanted to know what it was like to kiss an asshole.” The door pops open, and I tilt my head over my shoulder, managing a smirk as I meet his dark eyes. “Learned my lesson. It’s shit.”

Then I slam the door in Dom’s face. Lock it. Throw the dead bolt.

I ignore the knocking and him calling my name as I rush to the bathroom. My knees hit the tiles hard, and I barely manage to get the seat cover raised before I throw up every trace of the night.

All the gin I downed. The swallow of IPA in a toast to my brother. My one measly piece of candy. The drop of seawater I brought to my lips. The little butterflies that tried to struggle to life when Dom smiled at me.

All of it comes spilling out my throat in a sickly yellow bile revealing the truth of today.

Nothing about these last few hours was beautiful or life-changing.

This was just a new version of the same old disappointment.

Chapter

Seven

I leave the motel at three a.m., when I’m sober and Dom is asleep, making sure that by the time he wakes up I’ll be long gone. I’m back in Pennsylvania before the sun rises, and that’s the least amount of distance I need from him after last night.

I manage to pack up my things, drive my rental to the airport, and board a plane to Washington without further fucking up my life, and I think that’s something to be proud of.

Back in Seattle, I vow not to think about Dominic Perry until our next ash-spreading excursion. Unfortunately, there’s a picture of us on my phone that my fingers insist upon opening multiple times a day.

Maybe Josh is haunting my hands, and he’s bored, and he’s decided to torture me. Like right now, two days after the funeral and beach disaster, I could be on an animal shelter website contemplating how many abandoned cats I need to adopt to fill the hole my brother left in my heart. Instead, I’m lying on the floor of my apartment, staring at the awkward photo of Dom and me in Delaware.

My smile is terrible. All toothy and strained and fake. More of a grimace than anything.

Dom isn’t even trying to fake it. He’s not even looking at the camera. No, the man is staring at me, probably wondering why I’m going through the trouble of getting a picture taken.

I should delete it. I don’t need it.

When we’re done, I tell myself.When all the trips are over, I’ll scroll through the pictures, then I’ll get rid of them. Another way to say goodbye.

A pounding on my condo’s front door interrupts my melancholy musings.