We’ve Been Here Before

WE'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE

Sage

F irst and foremost, I'd like to reinforce that I am not bitching that I'm single. I'm elated that I'm not in a relationship roughly ninety-five percent of the time and today is no different. Except when Liam left right after Hannah, Gen left with Jackson, Gabe left with Kara, Wes left with Savannah, and I left for the hotel with my rosebud in the front pocket of my duffel bag, I'll admit…I was feeling a little jaded.

For a hotel this nice, you would think they would have taken the time to scrape the old popcorn texture off the ceiling.

As I notice I've been lying down, staring up at the oddly unsettling texture for over half an hour, I realize just how pathetic I'm being.

I'm single by choice, damn it. I like answering to no one besides myself. That, and no guy has ever really caught my attention for more than a night or two. Well, one, but that's beside the point.

When everyone paired off to leave for the hotel where Jackson and Gen's wedding would be held tomorrow, I knew instantly that what was in store for me was a night full of jack shit. Apparently, once paired up, you become a stick-in-the-mud who can't be bothered to take a detour to the hotel bar for a couple of hours before going to bed at a nice geriatric time of 10:30 PM.

When did my friends become so boring?

My phone dings on the bedside table, a welcome reprieve from my methodical counting of the plastered bumps taunting me from above. I lay my head back against the pillow as I open my text messages.

Gabe

still wanna grab that drink?

Gabe and I don't hang out alone often. Actually, I'm pretty sure the last time we were alone together was the last time he and Kara broke up. Well, maybe not last —maybe the second-to-last time?

It's never been a secret that I'm attracted to him, but I'm no homewrecker. Then again, it's hard to wreck a home that's been stripped down to studs from years of fighting and breaking up every other week.

It doesn't matter, though—shitty human or not, Kara is Gabe's girlfriend. An on-and-off girlfriend he's horrible with and no one supports, but a girlfriend, nonetheless.

Sage

you and kara?

Gabe

nah, just me.

That's…ominous.

Sage

she get tired of walking on stilts to reach your shoulders?

Gabe

something like that.

Gnawing at my inner cheek, I find myself questioning if going down to the hotel bar is a horrible idea. I'm sure he and Kara broke up again. If he needed comfort, he'd text Liam. But I suppose there are a multitude of ways someone may seek comfort; I'm just not sure with their track record of getting back together if approaching that is the best idea…for either of us.

Sage

did she leave?

Gabe

yeah, i'm almost to the hotel, i dropped her at home before leaving the city.

Sage

??

I don't miss the way he ignores my questioning. He seldom wants to talk about what drives them to break up. Liam has shared with me bits and pieces about their relationship over the years and none of it has been good. How does someone stay with someone that their best friend hates so passionately—and for so long?

Gabe

so, drinks?

This could quite possibly be the worst idea I've ever had and I very well might hate myself tomorrow, but at this moment, I can't will myself to care.

Sage

yeah, drinks.

Shooting up from the bed, I gaze around the room, unsure if I should change out of the dress I wore to the rehearsal dinner or just leave it be. Leggings sound far more comfortable, but I'm not going to pretend I don't look hot. Whether this is a booty call or not, it feels like a waste to not give this dress a few more hours of justice.

Once in a standing position, I look at myself in the mirror, reminded that the rich orange hue of the satin does wonders for my medium brown complexion.

I let out a groan as I walk toward the dresser, grabbing a hairpin from my makeup bag in an attempt to salvage the damage laying down did to the previously perfect updo my curls were pulled into for the rehearsal.

I wonder if it's about time to change my hair again despite having my highlights recently touched up. The caramel is cute, but it's the longest I've kept a single hair color since I started dying it at eighteen. Maybe I'll go back to my natural black, but the concept of putting purple in my hair has always sounded like fun.

Sliding my feet one by one into my slinky gold heels, I all but force myself out of my room, the anxiety of what awaits me downstairs at the hotel bar leaving my stomach tumbling.

It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with Gabe—quite the contrary, in fact. However, being the one he calls whenever Kara dumps him has started to feel cheap. That, and, given the circumstances, the thought of telling any of our friends that we've hooked up three times is embarrassing beyond measure. I'd look pathetic.

So, I do what any average woman in her twenties would do…I do it anyway and I don't tell anyone about it.

My heels clack against the marble flooring of the hotel bar as I approach, my eyes instantly falling on the all-too-familiar man sitting at the end, leaning against the lacquered bar top.

Even leaning, he looms at least a head above the rest of the men in the establishment. That's part of what drew me to him that first day out on the golf course. Standing out on the green with my brother and their friends, my eyes instantly locked on the larger-than-life man with fiery red hair and a smile that could melt the panties off even the most reserved woman.

However, I learned that day that there was one very big obstacle.

"Ya'll broke up again, huh?" I say as I approach, attempting to erect my typical nonchalant attitude when it comes to men. Well… most men. It's actually quite enraging the way it's never stayed in place when it comes to Gabe.

He sighs as he lifts his hand to scratch the back of his neck, his telltale sign that he's uncomfortable with the topic of discussion. "Yeah, it just wasn't working. It hasn't been for a while."

"No shit," I respond with a sarcastic bite to my tone. I expect him to shrug off my harsh response, but when his eyes meet mine, I am met with the defeated version of the man I've grown to admire.

Unfortunately, that is my least favorite form of Gabe.

"Are you okay?" My voice softens.

He pauses for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. It had to happen."

That should be what I want to hear, that they're really done, but I've been here before. "Are you two done for good?"

Gabe doesn't say anything, just nods. It hardly instills confidence, yet I take his response at face value because it's what I want to hear.

Pathetic, I know.

"And you're sure you're okay?" I ask, genuinely concerned. This isn't the first time I've seen him this defeated, and I hate it. He doesn't deserve this; he never has. I don't understand the hold she has on him, but it can't be good for him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He sighs as he lifts a pint glass to his lips and downs half his beer in three slow gulps.

Fine, I'm sure.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head. I swivel back and forth on my heels, trying to think of how to proceed, but everything I can think of would result in me just sounding pathetic. So, I put up my typical facade.

"Well, as fun as this has been, you seem content by yourself, so I'm going to go…"

Without any hesitation, Gabe reaches out and delicately takes hold of my wrist with one hand. His touch is both gentle and strong, easily keeping me from moving. His hand, with its fair complexion and roughness from hard work, encircles my wrist effortlessly.

"Please don't go," he whispers so softly that I almost miss it, but the sincerity in his plea causes me to abandon my plan of leaving the bar.

Our gazes lock and I swallow hard, seeing the man I've come to care for over the years looking back at me with a brokenness that exceeds his towering frame. "All right."

An hour and a half passes, along with four glasses of Bordeaux, and I'm feeling a bit tipsy. Gabe, on the other hand, is still sulking.

I playfully nudge his cheek with my finger, prompting a small, dimpled smile to form on his lips. "C'mon. Buck up, Buttercup!" I say in an effort to cheer him up.

His attempts at hiding his grin are futile as he laughs. "I hate when you call me that."

"It's a common phrase."

"It's corny."

"It's the south—it's supposed to be a little corny."

The bartender places the checks in front of us, silently indicating that they closed twenty minutes ago. It is a not-so-subtle hint for us to finish up and leave, and without missing a beat, Gabe grabs both receipts and sets his card on top of them.

Gabe shifts in his seat once the bartender retrieves his card and positions his body to face me, his hand gently resting on my knee. "Thank you for coming down tonight. It means a lot."

"Of course. Who better to distract you, right?"

He pauses as his gaze locks on mine, a serious expression plaguing his brow. "It's not like that."

A lump forms in my throat. "Then what is it like?"

"I like spending time with you, distraction or not."

"Then why do you only call or text when you and Kara break up?"

As I ask the question, a wave of tension spreads across his broad shoulders, visible even through the crisp fabric of his shirt. The bartender returns with his card, receipt, and a pen, and he waits for her to leave before letting out a deep sigh. As he signs the merchant's copy, his hand seems to tremble slightly. "I'm sorry that I've been doing that. I never meant to, it's just…" He trails off, his eyes downcast as if lost in thought.

"Kara didn't trust me."

Gabe hesitates with the pen hovering over the scrap of receipt paper. "It was never about trusting you ."

My brows nearly hit my hairline at the implication. "So she just didn't trust you…with me?"

He silently nods.

"Why?" I ask, knowing why but wanting him to say it. This song and dance we do, this falling together whenever he's sure they're over. It's exhausting, but more than anything I want him to acknowledge it. I'm not crazy—I know there is something here, so why does it always get avoided when I want him to verbalize it?

"She…could tell, I guess?" His shoulders hunch forward as he scrunches his eyebrows in frustration.

"Tell what?"

He doesn't mince his words, doesn't resist the urge to blurt them out, but rather speaks matter-of-factly. "That I'm into you."

"You are?!" I gasp, feigning shock at his admission.

He grins and teasingly pinches my side before standing up and leading us toward the exit of the bar and into the hotel lobby.

And that's when the unspoken question becomes unavoidable. Even if he doesn't say it, given our history, it's implied. Yet, as he rocks back and forth on the soles of his loafers, the pit in my stomach is telling me that he isn't going to ask me to join him. Maybe this is what we are truly meant to be. Friends, comrades, confidants, never anything more, even if he's the only person I've ever wished for more with.

"I should get to bed. I haven't even been up to my room yet." He steps toward me without awaiting a response. Tilting his head down, Gabe presses his lips gently to the top of my head. Stepping back, he sighs with a soft smile. "Good night, Sage."

"Good night, Gabe." I try to hide my disappointment, but it's obvious in my voice. Despite this, I swivel on the heel of my shoes and begin to walk in the opposite direction toward the elevator.

"Hey, Sage?" The man who is typically eerily confident with me sounds far more defeated than I've ever heard him, making me think that maybe, just maybe, he and Kara are really over this time.

"Hm?" I ask, turning my head to face him.

"I'm sorry…for always doing this. I promise we're over, if that means anything. It's been over for a long time, I just refused to face it."

"It's okay. I'm not going to be the person to start claiming I have the healthiest of coping mechanisms either. Gotta handle it how you handle it, ya know?"

He nods in understanding before turning back around to walk away.

"Wait." My voice echoes through the lobby, and I'm surprised at how quickly it leaves my lips.

I know this isn't a good idea. I've been in this situation too many times before, despite his assurance that things are over between him and Kara.

But when his puzzled gaze meets mine, I can't help but smile. I motion toward the elevator, silently urging him to join me.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

I nod with a smile. "I'm sure."

We've Been Here Before is the prologue from One Room Vacancy , the third and final book in the Just Peachy series. One Room Vacancy will be available in March of 2025 and is currently available for pre-order.