Page 83 of Breaking Hollywood

Ava

After feeling sorry for myself for a few minutes, I got mad with the big jerk and decided to do what he’d said to do. So, I took the day off.

Gucci and I went to a dog park and had fun. A lot of people were interested in her, so I got to chatting with a few of them, which was nice, and it took my mind off of Gabe the asshole.

After I dropped Gucci back at the apartment and fed her a lunch of hay and carrots, I went shopping alone.

Solo shopping always helps to perk me up.

I bought some new pajamas and sunglasses. And a pair of Choos that I couldn’t afford. Also, I bought Gucci a new coat and a water bowl.

When I was done, I stopped and had sushi.

I didn’t really feel that hungry, but I thought I’d better eat.

When I finally came back to the apartment, I was expecting to encounter Gabe. But there was just Gucci waiting for me.

So, I let her out onto the terrace, cleaned up after her, and then made her dinner. Then, I got started on dinner for Gabe and me. Even though I wasn’t hungry, I figured he would be.

Turned out, I was wrong because he didn’t come home for dinner.

I broke down and texted him at nine to check if he was okay. But he never replied.

And, now, it’s ten thirty, and he’s not back. He’s been out all day.

Even though I’m still mad at him, I am getting kind of worried.

I know he’s a grown man, but he’s also on crutches, and getting around for him isn’t the easiest.

I’m not really sure what to do.

I’m sitting on the sofa with Gucci when there’s a commotion of voices and laughter in the hallway.

Picking up Gucci, I get to my feet just as Gabe comes hobbling into the living room, minus his crutches, with about ten people accompanying him. And one of those people is beautiful and tall and blonde, and he has his arm around her.

Just like he had it around me last night.

Pain and jealousy shoot up my spine.

“Speedy.” His voice slurs a little, and there’s a smirk on his face, but nothing’s cheery about the way he’s looking at me.

His eyes are cold and empty. Like he’s telling me with his stare that he doesn’t care about me or what happened between us last night.

And it really fucking hurts.

“Is that a goat?” the woman propping him up says.

I ignore her.

“Where are your crutches?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I lost them.”

“You lost them? How the hell do you lose a pair of crutches?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I just did.”

The blonde laughs. Gabe slips out from under her arm and walks—well, staggers closer to me. He reeks of liquor and cigarettes.