“Beck, you don’t want to do this.” Claudia pressed in on his other side, her arm sliding around him. I watched as his body instinctively moved into hers. “Drinking isn’t going to help.”

“Isn’t it?” He shook his head and that ache in my chest hurt harder than before at the pain in his voice. “I was a shitty son. I wasn’t there for him. I should’ve been there for him.”

“Beck,” Jake said, “he wasn’t exactly father of the year. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Seriously?” Beck swung around to glare at him. “He’s f**king dead, man.”

This was getting us nowhere.

I gently nudged Jake out of my way. “Beck.” I took hold of his glass and forcefully tugged it out of his grasp, scotch spilling over the sides. “I get it,” I told him quietly. “It doesn’t matter what anyone says, or the reasons why you didn’t see your dad a lot. The facts are you didn’t. The facts are he died and you never got a chance to fix everything between you.” His eyes clung to mine, dazed and desperate. “I get it. The guilt. The blame. Believe me, I get it. You don’t like yourself so much right now. You wonder if you ever will. Well, you don’t know the answer to that, but I do know you’re not going to find it in a glass.” I leaned into him, clutching hold of his hand. “I can’t promise you anything and I’m not going to give you platitudes—you’ve got to work out all those feelings yourself. But I can tell you that you’ve got three friends here who will do anything they can to help you get through this. Anything but watch you drink yourself under a table.”

Our eyes seemed to hold for a long time, a deep understanding passing between us.

Finally, Beck nodded and made to stand up.

I felt Jake and Claudia relax a little. Claudia tucked herself into Beck’s side so he could hold on to her. Jake paid Beck’s tab, and we walked back to the apartment, shrouded in Beck’s grief.

The mug of coffee felt soothingly warm between my hands. I curled my legs underneath me and stared out our balcony window, wishing I wasn’t feeling the hush of grief fill every space in the apartment. It didn’t seem so long ago I was suffocating under that feeling.

“He’s sleeping,” Jake said as he walked into the living room. I followed him with my eyes, somehow unable to look away after weeks of being deprived of him. “Claudia’s staying with him.”

I nodded, unsure what to say. An angry tension radiated off Jake and I knew I was partly to blame for that.

Jake yawned and collapsed into the nearest armchair.

The silence between us grew steadily harder to deal with.

“Listen—”

“His dad was from San Francisco,” Jake cut me off, his voice brittle. “His favorite place was Baker Beach.” He looked at me directly for the first time. “He wants the four of us to take his dad’s ashes out there. A road trip.”

I felt sick with nerves at the thought of going on a road trip with Jake.

As if he sensed my instant dislike of this plan, he smirked unhappily. “You were the one who promised him we’d do anything.”

Did he think I’d break that promise just because I didn’t want to be subjected to Jake’s anger and my own longing? “I’ll do this for him.”

“So will I.”

I looked away. A road trip with Jake.

Beautiful… just beautiful.

“What you said to him,” Jake said, his tone a little softer, “is that what you’re going through right now?”

I didn’t know what was worse, his anger or the concern in his voice. More than anything I wanted to confide in Jake, and only Jake. Funny, how he was actually the last person that I could confide in.

“I’m hungry. I’ll order pizza.” I got up and walked past him, my face perfectly blank. “Pepperoni, right?”

Chapter Twelve

Our hotel was in the center of Barcelona on Plaça de Catalunya. As promised, Claudia’s mother had hooked us up with first-class plane tickets and the hotel was cool and modern with French windows that offered amazing views over the plaza and the city. I shared a room with Claudia while the guys shared a room next door.

We were all excited and ready to explore the city that night. Before we’d gotten on the plane, Claudia had asked me to sit with her so she didn’t have to sit with Beck. I couldn’t understand why she wanted him there if she planned to avoid him, but I was going with it for her sake. Beck wasn’t going with it. He’d insisted on sitting with her and when I’d glanced across the aisle, I saw he was listening quietly to her as she talked about her parents. She was a wreck about meeting her real dad and no matter what her head was telling her, I knew her heart was telling her she needed Beck.

I guessed when it counted, he was there for her, which made it difficult to be mad at him for being a part-time ass.

Jake and I sat together, discussing all the places we wanted to visit—Le Sagrada Família, Park Güell, Mount Tibidabo, Barcelona Cathedral, Casa Calvet, Gaudí House Museum…

There was so much to see, we knew we couldn’t cram it all in. But we’d certainly try.

“Tomorrow’s the big day.” I smiled reassuringly at Claudia as I shimmied into my best skinny jeans for dinner that evening. The next day we were going to be taking Claudia to meet Dustin at his apartment. From the few emails they’d exchanged, Claud had discovered Dustin lived in an area of the city called El Raval. Apparently it was popular with artists and musicians and creative types. He’d given us his address, warning us that his “quirky” apartment building didn’t have an elevator and he lived on the top floor.

Claudia seemed to ignore my comment as she zipped her dress.

“Claud?”

She smiled at me. “You and Jake are so good together. It’s amazing to see you this happy. Has your dad spoken to you yet about possibly giving in?”

I frowned at the subject change. “We’re in Barcelona… for you. I’d really rather talk about that.”

“And I really rather wouldn’t. I feel like I’m going to upchuck. I spent the whole time on the plane talking to Beck about meeting Dustin and now I just want to try to forget about tomorrow’s life-changing moment and enjoy this beautiful city tonight with my good friends.” Her chin jutted stubbornly, almost daring me to defy her.