The Worst Bad Thing is only the second book I’ve read by J.E. Birk and I loved it. Please use the “look inside” option on Amazon to read the “Author’s Note” for trigger warnings. The story has darkness to it but the MCs get an HEA.

Something horrible happened that Tate feels responsible for. It changed his life and not in a good way. He embarks on a journey to honor the person who died and he meets Gabriel. They really hit it off but Tate is certain that he doesn’t deserve to have any happiness ever again. He finally opens up to Gabriel and they become closer.

I don’t know how to describe how this book made me feel. Yes, it was dark in places but it also was engaging and interesting – especially when the places that Tate visited were described so beautifully. The story flashes back and forth between present day and before. I’m not usually a fan of stories where the timeline goes back and forth but it totally worked for this one. I think part of the reason might be that the before scenes were brief, giving just enough information to keep me wondering and wanting to continue reading so that I would eventually get the whole picture.

I really do think that this was a beautifully written story but I also realize that it might not be for everyone. If after reading the “Author’s Note” you don’t find anything that would be a trigger for you, I highly recommend this book.

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“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

“Sure. I told you. I’m just fine. I can’t even imagine what I was thinking when I had them call you.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Maybe that you had a panic attack in the middle of an exhibit about particles?”

“Sure, maybe. Hey, look, a rugby game.”

“Tate, stop.” Gabriel grabs my sleeve lightly and spins me around to look him in the eye. “What’s going on? The museum officials said you were down for several minutes trying to get air back in your lungs. This attack was obviously serious. And people just don’t have panic attacks for no reason. What’s going on with you? Can I help with anything?”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Shit, Gabriel. I just met you yesterday. I don’t even know your last name yet, for fuck’s sake. And if we’re being honest, you don’t know my first name. This isn’t any of your damn business. I’m sorry I had them call you. I should have just left you alone to meet with Thom Yorke or whoever.” I jerk my arm away from him and take off in the direction of the rugby game.

“James,” he calls after me.

I stop.

“James Tate O’Reilly.”

I turn around.

“I saw your passport yesterday at customs,” he says apologetically.

And you didn’t run away screaming. Which means you must not watch a lot of news.

“It’s an unusual middle name. Family name?”

I nod.

“I’m Gabriel Michael Carrillo. And I wasn’t meeting with Thom Yorke this morning. That would have been a hell of a lot more fun than what I was doing. But I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Oh.” That’s all I can seem to say.

“Yeah. Listen. You don’t have to bare your soul to me or anything. We did just meet, and who knows if we’ll ever see each other again after this trip. But I really do like you, Tate. You have me worried. You going to collapse if we walk by a pigeon who looks at you funny?”

I glare at him. “Nice. Kick a guy after a panic attack.”

He moves closer to me until I’m standing directly in front of him. “You’re kind of cute when you’re pissed off. Actually you’re kind of cute all the time.”

“You’re not all that ugly yourself.”

And so we stand there for several long minutes, staring at each other while a British rugby team looks on. And possibly some pigeons.

Then we move away from each other and go back to our walk. Almost as though we never stopped in the first place.