Page 97 of Bean

I was going to drive myself to the brink of madness if I didn’t stop with all these hypotheticals. Christ, I was a mess.

“Earth to Jarek,” Ivy said, snapping her fingers in my face.

I blinked, downed my drink, and set it down with a hard thud. “I’m going home.”

“I don’t think you should be driving,” Andrei said.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled my keys out of my pocket. “I’m sober. I wish I wasn’t, but here we are.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said pointedly. “You’re?—”

“If you say emotionally compromised, I’m going to ghost your ass too,” I snapped.

He held his hands up in surrender, then looked at Ivy. “He’s my ride.”

“I’ve got you, babe,” she said, moving a little closer.

Fuck me, I had to get out of there. As over-the-moon happy I’d be if my best friend and brother got together, I couldn’t sit there and watch someone’s love story blossom while I felt like I was bleeding out inside.

“Have fun.” It didn’t sound like I meant it, so I turned on my heel and hurried out of the bar before I made a bigger ass of myself.

We were close to the water and the evening fog was heavy, dragging a briny breeze across my skin. I pulled my jacket tighter as I began the two-block trek down the hill to where I was parked. It was a quiet neighborhood, away from the hustle and bustle of areas like Divisadero or Union Square, which were full of both tourists and locals with too much time on their hands and too much happiness on their faces.

I liked it when the city felt quiet. The lights were dim, the leaves rustling in the trees nestled in the pavement, and if I strained my ears enough, I could make out water lapping along the rocky shore.

My phone buzzed again and I ignored it as I reached my car, doing an internal check to make sure I really was okay to drive, and then I turned the engine on and took off. It took me until I pulled onto 19thto realize I wasn’t going to the rental.

I was heading home. To the place that was very nearly mine.

Something about it felt right, and I pulled up to the curb, putting my car in Park before staring up at the dark windows. It wasn’t ready yet. There was still a massive dumpster out front full of refuse from Andrei’s work, but there were only a few weeks left before I would be setting foot in there and seeing what it was always meant to look like.

I stepped out of the car, but instead of going up the stoop, I darted across the street and hit the stone steps that led down to the beach. The last time I’d done this, I’d run into Bean. He’d been there looking as beautiful as ever, basking in the sun while Heath taught his surfing lessons.

That had been a good day. No, it had been one of the best days. Bean had walked away with a silver bear pendant to keep around his neck, and I’d walked away with more promises than just, I’ll see you when I see you. That had been the first real moment I’d realized how hard I was falling.

I’d still been fighting it. Still trying to convince myself it was too soon, but I think I’d always known it was a losing battle.

Now, here I was, the actual loser, digging my toes in the sand after leaving my shoes behind at the base of the stairs.

The tide was high, so I couldn’t go far, but there was a spot near the rocks where someone had been camped earlier. They’d left a few shells and a bucket halfway buried in the sand. I settled down, the chill seeping into my bones as I watched the waves crest up, not quite reaching me, but close.

I wish I’d had a night like this with Bean. A soft, quiet, nothing sort of evening where he wasn’t trying to save me from myself in the kitchen, and I wasn’t trying to ease him through his fear of the sin of touching and being touched. I felt robbed.

And I was really fucking sad.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, rattling against my key fob, and I pulled it out. I had no intention of talking to Bean—notnow, at least—but I thought maybe seeing his name might make me feel better.

Except it wasn’t him at all.

It was Nash.

I didn’t know what made me do it, but I found myself tapping the screen to answer. “Uh. Hey.”

“Oh. I thought I would get your voicemail again,” he said.

My stomach twisted. “Is something wrong? How many times have you called?”

He snorted a laugh. “I’m guessing that means you’re not checking your phone right now?”