Especially because my parents were already breaking up with me. Which sounded a bit incestuous when I thought about it, but the feeling hit the same. I sucked in a sharp breath and walked into the bar.
The TVs blared with a basketball game in the background, and one of the usual bartenders stood behind the bar. I knew most folks in town, either from growing up here or because they’d gotten tattooed at the shop, and Hal, I’d tattooed. He had a mini reaper on his ankle.
The little dopamine hit surged again, the one that always did when I realized people were walking around and living their lives with little bits of my art on their skin.
“Auggie, we’re over here,” Mom called, snagging my attention. Her and Dad sat at the tables on the left, beside the window. My heart twisted, a combination of relief and sadness. I hadn’t finished grappling with the bombshell they’d dropped. Just distracted myself.
Though, damn, what a distraction Drake had been.
I headed over to greet my folks and gave my mom a hug first, then my dad. The relief was clear in their eyes, and guilt bubbled up that I wasn’t able to be more lax about their whole uproot and move down to Florida.
“Thanks for coming out to lunch,” Dad said, his blond hair the same thickness as mine, just shorter and threaded with gray. His eyes crinkled at the edges. “You were right that we should’ve mentioned it to you when we started thinking about the idea.”
I swallowed hard. Appreciation flared inside me. “I mean, it would’ve helped, so I wasn’t blindsided.”
“You could always come with us,” Mom said, a burst of hope in her eyes. My stomach churned.
“Finding a tattoo job isn’t easy.” Plus, I’d been here my entire life. The idea of uprooting unsettled me as much as the idea of my parents moving.
“About that,” Dad said. “We called around in Sarasota, and there’s a shop currently looking for an established artist.”
I wrinkled my nose. Established was variable. I couldn’t bring my book with me, so I’d be starting from scratch with clientele. I did at least have the necessary experience. I hated that my brain even started entertaining this, but the sad puppy faces my parents were giving me made me want to agree on the spot, even if I was conflicted.
Guaranteed I’d get sad puppy faces from the crew at Alchemy Ink too.
Whatever I chose, someone would be upset, and I hated situations like this with my whole being.
“Don’t know,” I said. “My dating prospects wouldn’t be great in Sarasota. Who would I date? Someone your age?”
Dad shook his head. “Please, no. We’re old. But we looked into that too. Sarasota’s got a huge gay scene.”
“I’m bi, Dad,” I responded.
“We’re just saying if you want to keep your options open,” Mom offered. “Plus, I thought bisexuals liked gay bars too.”
I rolled my eyes, even though amusement filtered through me. “We’re fans of all types of bars.”
“We ordered your favorite burger, if that’s okay,” Mom said, tilting her head in the direction of the waitress who approached carrying a laden tray. “We even asked for extra pickles.”
“Yeah, of course,” I responded, even though I didn’t think I’d be able to eat much right now. Not with the way my gut churned. “Thanks.”
The waitress placed the plates in front of us. A BLT for Mom, a turkey sandwich for Dad, and the burger for me. All our usuals at a place we’d gone to for years, and yet the dynamic felt completely different.
“Do you mind if I take some time to think on things?” I asked, needing to cut the tension between us. Mom’s constant glances and Dad’s quiet were indicative that they were both waiting too.
“Of course, of course,” Mom said, waving a hand back and forth. “We put the house on sale, so who knows how long it’ll take to move.”
The news socked me in the stomach. This was all rushing in faster than I could prepare for.
That urge to get up and bolt thrummed inside me again, but I couldn’t abandon them in the middle of the restaurant.
I ate some fries instead.
I chewed intently on each fry, focusing on the salt distribution and not the fact that my parents wanted me to uproot my life and come with them. Or the fact that beyond my job, I didn’t have many prospects here. Rory wasn’t going to renew our lease—he’d be moving in with Wyatt when the time came—and I kept striking out left and right with boyfriends and girlfriends.
The door to Fun-Guy opened, and in strolled the man I hadn’t seen or heard from over the past few days.
Drake Castillo.
