Chapter 8 You Done? #2
It got worse when Gabe said, “And it’s far from unattractive in a woman or anybody that you’re financially responsible. Nor that you’ve got an abundance of hustle and go after what you want. Just so you know, I’m the same. With both.”
Gah!
Right, so I hadn’t planned for this to go so poorly so quickly.
But all wasn’t lost.
Because I wasn’t done.
“I think you missed the part where I shared I allowed Kevin to get me in a financial bind. That’s on Kevin, but it’s also on me. It was a poor decision, and one I need to process. However, it’s left me with trust issues.”
“I can see that,” he retorted. “But what you need to see is, normally, in a healthy, functioning relationship, partners look after each other. That ass was not healthy or functioning. That isn’t on you.
But you know as well as I do that shit happens, and if one side of a partnership isn’t willing to kick in and cover if the other has taken a hit, it isn’t a partnership.
What you did is what you’re supposed to do when her man takes a hit.
So what you did was the absolute right thing to do. He just took advantage of it.”
Annnnnnd…
This hadn’t gone good from the start, but it was still managing to go downhill fast.
“Just to say, that is not unattractive either,” Gabe concluded. Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, he added, “Far fuckin’ from it.”
Lord, deliver me!
As far as I could tell, the only thing that was going well with this was how much I’d prepared for it.
So I kept at it.
“Okay,” I said. “You know about Kev, obviously, and Trev. And my dad. And I know you think you’ve figured me out, but even if I’ll grant what you said last night makes sense about my choices in men…”
He smirked.
It was sexy as all hell, and just as infuriating.
Grr.
I powered through it. “That does not negate the fact that I’m still processing all those things, and I shouldn’t be processing that while entering into a relationship.”
“Bullshit.”
I blinked.
Even if it was.
Totally.
It was bullshit.
Dreamer was right about that.
It had been months since Kev disappeared, and Kevin and I were over for months before that. I knew he was a mistake. I knew how he was a mistake. And I was so over him, it wasn’t funny.
I don’t think so, Logic butted in.
And Logic was wrong.
Well, thanks so much, Logic griped.
“You can’t forget I was there when you took that last hit,” Gabe continued. “And I didn’t miss you’re a fighter, not a survivor. In the midst of that fiasco, you extorted a marker from a United States Congressman after he kidnapped you, for chrissakes.”
I did do that.
Ugh!
Why was I so awesome?!
“I was pissed as shit after our first kiss that you were letting that asshole fuck with your head. That wasn’t you.
I knew it wasn’t, and I said some things I wish I didn’t,” he admitted.
“But you didn’t let him break you. You licked your wounds, but even while you were doing that, you got on with it. ”
I did that too.
GAH!
“Oh yeah, I really fuckin’ get you’d hesitate and overthink jumping into it again with another guy,” he stated.
“But that just makes you a woman who’s got a brain in her head who’s capable of thinking things through, which means you’re capable of maturity and growth.
And clue in, Willow, that is far from unattractive too. ”
I was totally going to have to start underachieving, and soon.
He leveled his gaze on me. “It’s if you let him cow you. If you let him change you. If you let him define the course of the rest your life, well, obviously, baby, that’s when I’m gonna have a problem.”
I opened my mouth, though I had no clue what I’d say, because I had every intention of letting Kevin do that, but now that Gabe laid it out like that, I wasn’t so sure.
But he wasn’t done, and he’d saved the zinger for last.
“And just guessin’, never met the woman, but even with the little I know, I’d say your mom would have a problem with it too. She took her hits and still found her happy. Though, giving up is not the daughter she raised, of that I’m certain.”
Oh my God!
He pulled The Mom Card!
Dammit, if I hadn’t worked so hard for all my stuff, no matter where it came from, or how cheap it was, I’d throw something at him.
I was not a competitive person.
But it sure sucked to be around someone who was always right when you were fighting a corner that you’d been pretty sure about, but it seemed you were wrong.
Instead of throwing something at him, I changed my mind and thanked my lucky stars I was an overachiever, because I had more.
“Right then, let’s talk about how dangerous your job is,” I said.
He took his arms from the couch to rest his hands in his lap and retorted, “Yeah, and let’s talk about you getting kidnapped because you’re a member of a girl gang of vigilantes with a mysterious benefactor and a headquarters in a storage unit that’s cooler than the Batcave.”
Whoops!
Perhaps that wasn’t an effective maneuver.
“Yeah,” he said softly like he read my thoughts.
Then he stated, “But this has to be out there, might as well put it out there now. We’re contractually bound to offer confidentiality to our clients.
It’ll be rare I can talk in any depth about my work.
Like it’s rare it’s dangerous. But rare is not never, and you gotta know, shit happens.
You also gotta know, when that shit happens, it doesn’t come as a surprise. We don’t get blindsided. Ever.”
Not ever?
Interesting.
“So something like that comes up,” he carried on, “Mace and Moses put their heads together, and they plan for every eventuality they can think of. Which means we got plan A, plan B, plan C, and so on. And the team is tight. There are decades of experience working in it. So I’m not gonna try to convince you what I do is like having a desk job.
In fact, me and all the men avoid going into the office because paperwork sucks, and the Shirleen/Marjorie feud is ramping up and we want nothing to do with it. ”
And ooooooo…
Interesting.
“But you can rest assured I’m good at what I do, the men working with me are. That’s what I got to give to you, and it isn’t thin. We’re all that good,” he finished.
I already knew that. I’d seen it with my own eyes.
And I’d seen with my own eyes the Shirleen/Marjorie Feud.
Shirleen was the Operations Manager for all three branches of NI&S, stationed at the Phoenix branch.
Marjorie was the Phoenix branch manager and Mace’s PA.
They had very different work styles.
And the Angels found it hilarious because those men were scared of nothing, but they avoided that shit like the plague.
“That it?” he taunted.
Taunted!
I had one more avenue to go down, I knew it was weak, and a last resort, but just because I was feeling stubborn—really, really stubborn—and because he was taunting me—taunting me!—I took it.
“You have a college degree with two majors and a minor—”
“Forgot to mention, I got my master’s in criminal justice when I was on patrol.”
Finally!
An opening!
I jumped on that, crying, “Precisely!”
He again fought a grin.
I kept at him.
“I have a high school diploma and I’ve taken a nine-week baking and pastry course.”
I knew his good mood vanished when his brows slammed together.
Still, I concluded, “Inequality like that in a partnership can cause problems.”
“Yeah, maybe in 1792,” he shot back, now not amused at all, instead looking mega grumpy.
“But I’m not a fledgling duke, and you’re a scullery maid, and we’ll be outcasts if we fly in the face of society’s norms and give our relationship a shot, so I’ll eventually blame you for me losing my place in a society where I have to wear an uncomfortable collar, drink port and be served gross shit molded in Jell-O for dinner. ”
That was both funny and a fascinating selection for him to choose as his example.
I had no time to consider how fascinating it was.
He sat forward, putting his elbows to his knees but tilted his glorious head back to keep his likewise glorious eyes on me.
“We’re not there yet, fuckin’ obviously, since we’re having this conversation.
But I’ll tell you straight out, I do not want that woman who tried to stiff you on her kid’s birthday cake.
Taking that further, I have zero interest in a trad wife.
Less than zero. You want to stay at home and raise the kids, if we get that far, we’ll discuss it.
But I’ll be clear, I have no interest in a woman whose life revolves around designer shit and cocktails with her girls and having the perfect makeup when she sucks my cock.
I’m also not interested in a woman whose sole focus is her family. Both would bore the fuck out of me.”
Mm-hmm.
Totally.
This was not going at all to plan.
Gabe wasn’t done.
“I’m thirty-three years old. I’m not a virgin. I’ve played the field. I’ve had shit dates and shit relationships. I’ve had great dates and great relationships.”
Hmm.
“But in the end,” he went on, “none of them was the one. But each of them brought me closer to knowing who is the one.”
Uh-oh.
My lungs ceased working.
Because he said “is.”
Not “would be.”
On that, he stood, and I realized this was not only not going to plan, but also, I was in trouble.
“The one is going to have to have the grit to fight and scratch and hold on with all she has to keep what she’s got and get what she wants, even if life kicks her in the teeth, which it’s gonna do. Repeatedly.”
Oh boy.
“And she’s gonna know that because she’s gonna have experienced it, fought through it and got to the other side.”
Oh boy!
“She’s gonna need to be sharp and smart and have a passion and a hard work ethic, because that’ll mean she’ll bring that passion into her relationship, and she’ll work hard at keeping it strong.”
Oh boy!
“But she’ll be soft with me, like, I don’t know, surprising me with cupcakes she makes specially for me, ones she knows I’ll like.
Or, say, noticing I like beer, and making sure there’s a good stock of it in the fridge.
And she’ll be kind, like holding her friend’s hand when emotion is overwhelming her. ”
That cupcake was totally a mistake. I knew it as I made it.
Ditto with the beer.
But I’d never regret holding a friend’s hand.
“And she’ll get the world she lives in and be passionate about that too, her place in it, how it should be, and have the guts to work at making it better, again, I don’t know, maybe like becoming a vigilante with all her best buds.”
Eek!
“And it doesn’t hurt that her cute dresses turn me on, the curve of her legs makes my dick get hard, and if I concentrate on it too long, the swell of her ass makes me bead.”
I sucked in my lips, because at his words, I was the female version of beading standing right there.
Then suddenly, everything in my universe changed, because the look on Gabe’s face changed.
And his voice was soft and deadly when he said, “Five months ago, when Harlow shouted my name, and I hoofed it to the rear of The Surf Club only for you and her to be in the back of a car racing out of the parking lot, a car where the assholes in it were shooting at me and Tex, I knew. If we got you back from those motherfuckers, and I managed not to hunt them down and put the hurt on them to the point I got incarcerated, I knew I had to give you time. But after I gave you that time, I was going to be right here. Right here, Willow. I’ve been waiting five months to be right here.
Because five months ago, I knew I’d found her.
And since then, not one thing has changed. ”
With this last speech, so much was going on in my head (and I couldn’t deny, my heart), I didn’t move or speak.
Gabe did.
“Do you understand me?”
Oh, I understood him.
I loved every word out of his mouth.
Loved it with every fiber of my being.
And it terrified me.
But with his words, his tone, the look on his face, all I had in me was to nod.
He whispered, “Good.”
Thankfully, after that, he stopped talking.
I didn’t start.
So, he asked, “You done?”
I was. Totally depleted.
I had no more.
He sensed it, and being all Gabe could be, which we all could see was a lot, he didn’t make me admit it.
He asked, “Wanna go to bed or watch more TV?”
“I had an active day, and I have a briefing with the Angels at eleven tomorrow about how we’re going to help Mr. Shithead, so probably should hit the sack.”
He looked to the ceiling like a cloud was going to form, swirl open and God Himself was going to peer down and urge, “Patience, my son.”
Now you’re understanding how I feel, Dreamer said.
I’m not liking where this is going, Logic said.
Gabe looked at me.
“Okay, let’s go to bed,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied.
I mean…
What else could I do?
Gabe rounded the coffee table and held his hand out to me.
Without a second’s hesitation, I walked to him and took it.
The instant I did, he sighed, and it wasn’t with relief, but harassed.
Even if I was vexing him with my stubborn and possibly irrational protective streak (Feeling protective isn’t irrational! Logic screeched), that I consistently contradicted my words with my actions, he also didn’t hesitate.
Hand in hand, we walked down the hall in my apartment to get ready for bed.