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A drunk driver killed Ellie’s dad about a year after my incident. Believe me, I understand why she thinks it’s unfathomable. But then, she didn’t know my dad.
I twist my mouth into a scowl. “Yeah, well…my dad’s a bastard, El. Even my mom figured that out.”
“She’s still in London, then?”
The server takes our order and promises to be right back with out drinks.
“Still in London, yes. After…” I shift in my chair. Ellie is one of the few people who know I tried to kill myself but I still don’t like discussing it. “After the incident,” I glance at Ellie and see her nod, urging me to continue. “She brought Hawke and me to London where I met you and the guys. Mom never came back to the U.S. and hasn’t been here since.”
Ellie’s mouth falls open. “Not once? Not even to visit you?”
I shrug, pretending it doesn’t hurt that my own mother won’t make an effort to see her only child. “I go there a lot with the band. You know that. So I guess she figures that’s enough.”
Ellie gives me a sad look. At that exact moment, our drinks arrive. I’ve never been more grateful for something alcoholic. I order another one before I even take my first sip.
Ellie gives me the mommy glare that makes you feel as if you deserve a time out.
“What? I’m having a bad day,” I huff, justifying my actions. Lifting the glass, I down about half of the fruity rum cocktail.
“You didn’t drive, did you?” she scolds. Ellie is like a pit bull when it comes to drinking and driving.
I laugh. “Heck no! I have my babysitter with me.” I use the glass to point towards Marcus, who is sitting on a nearby barstool, scanning the patio for potential dangers.
“Oh, I forgot about all that.” Ellie winces. “I’m so sorry, Gav.”
I shrug it off. “I know you did, El. It’s okay.”
“It’s bloody well not okay!” She straightens up, leaning over the table. “It’s not okay to threaten you and frighten you and make you afraid to live your life!”
Other patrons are tilting their heads in our direction as Ellie rants. I catch my name being whispered. Now I’ve been spotted and after ‘coming out’ last night, what a joke, I’m sure I’ve been the talk of the town. Especially here in Huntington Beach, which has a thriving gay community.
“Shhhhh, El. People are staring.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she scowls. “I bloody hate this part. The whole lack of privacy.” She waves her hands around in frustration.
“Me too,” I agree, although I’ve lived in the spotlight for nearly a decade with the band. Ellie and Adam only reunited a year ago so this is all fairly new to her.
Our food arrives and we manage to move on to lighter topics, the new album, Ellie and Adam’s daughter, Sadie, who at nearly one is the love of Adam’s life, and Hawke’s latest adventures.
We finish up and pay the bill. As
the server leaves, I notice Marcus getting up and stalking over, his face a mask of determination.
“El,” I caution, grabbing her wrist to keep her in her seat. “Wait.”
She follows my line of sight. Marcus is hustling to intercept a young man who is headed for our table. Marcus reaches out to stop him right as he arrives in front of me.
“Sir, I need you to step back,” he commands in a low, menacing voice.
“I just want to thank Gavin,” the kid says, his voice filled with nerves.
“Not today.” Marcus wedges himself between the kid and our table.
The boy’s eyes find mine and I get it. I see something familiar in his expression. I see me ten years ago.
I stand up. “Let him through, Marcus.”
“I strongly caution you—”
