Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NICO
I woke up slowly. I was in the dark, not in my own bed, and someone was in bed with me. The body beside me moved and a scent filled my nostrils, warm and welcoming. Gabe. I was in bed with Gabe.
And then the rest of the night came crashing down on me. I’d made an idiot of myself. I couldn’t help the groan of embarrassment that rose from my chest. I shifted my weight, moving slowly in an effort not to wake Gabe.
I hadn’t gotten far when a strong arm wrapped around my waist. “Nope,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. “No running away. I refuse to pretend last night didn’t happen.”
I sighed and let him pull me close. “What if I don’t want to remember being a complete loser?”
He propped himself up on one elbow. “Hey. I don’t like the way you’re talking about my friend.”
I looked at him in confusion for a second before I got what he was saying. “Yeah. Okay. Cody would tell me to stop being mean to myself.”
“Four-year-olds can be very wise at times,” he said.
“And noisy,” I added with a grin.
“Definitely,” Gabe agreed. He ran his fingers through my hair. “I feel like I have to take some of the responsibility for how last night ended.” He raised his hand when I opened my mouth to object. “Let me finish.” He waited until I nodded in agreement. “You’re not the first person I’ve been with who’s had a similar past experience. I know better. I should have put on the brakes, but I wanted you so badly, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
I snorted. “Have you ever thought straight?”
He chuckled. “Not since I saw Billy Simmons wearing his baseball uniform.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“Sixth grade.”
I shook my head. “Damn, that’s young. I was a sophomore in high school before I figured out it wasn’t just girls I was looking at.”
“But getting back to last night,” Gabe began. “I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just not ready.”
“But I want to be,” I groaned in exasperation.
“I know,” Gabe replied, holding my gaze steadily.
I huffed a sigh. “Which means I need to go to therapy.”
“I think it will help.”
I sat up so I could look at him fully. “Would it bother you if I went to the same therapist as you? I trust your judgment. I don’t want another disaster.”
A pleased smile curved his lips. “I’m honored you trust me. And no, I don’t mind. Teresa is amazing. I’ll give you her contact information after we get breakfast.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I looked around for my phone. “I don’t remember what I did with my phone.”
“It’s probably still in your jacket pocket,” Gabe said.
“Ugh. Which means it’s probably dead.”
“No worries,” he said. He got out of bed and went to his overnight bag. “I brought a couple of power bricks for the cell phones and two lightning cables. You’ll be charged up in no time.”
“And you called me a Boy Scout,” I snarked.
He came to stand by my side of the bed. “I like messing with you.” He kissed me on the forehead. “It’s fun.” He set the batteries on the nightstand and held out his hand. “Let’s shower and get dressed. I’m starving.”
“Together?” I think my voice rose an octave.
Gabe snickered. “Not today. Another time.”
I let out a quiet sigh of relief. As much as I wanted to see Gabe naked, I absolutely did not want to make a fool of myself again. I did, however, watch his very fine ass, covered in only a pair of red boxer briefs, as he walked into the bathroom.
I got my phone out of my jacket pocket. It was at three percent. Luckily, I hadn’t missed any important calls or text messages. I checked the time. Almost nine-thirty. At least I’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. I plugged the phone into the battery and got out my overnight bag.
Gabe was fully dressed when he came out of the bathroom, much to my disappointment. I tried not to take too long in the shower. I was hungry too. By the time we got downstairs to the restaurant, it was after ten.
The restaurant was set up like a garden, with plants and small trees lending an air of privacy and seclusion. After we gave the server our order, Gabe pulled out his phone and went into his contacts. He slid his phone across the table to me. “That’s her phone number and the address of her office. She’s in Neptune, so it’s not far. You might want to ask her about EMDR therapy.”
“What’s that?” I asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I never explain it right. It uses eye movement to process trauma memories. But it’s more complicated than that.” He picked up his phone again. “There’s a website that explains what it is and what it does better than I can. I’ll text it to you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I looked over at him. “Is that what you use in therapy?”
He nodded. “Well, one of the things. It really depends on what I’m dealing with when I go to see her.”
I still got a sick feeling in my stomach when I thought about going to therapy, but if I wanted to get past what happened in prison, I had to deal with it head-on. I heard the text come through. I’d look at the website on the drive home.
The food arrived, and of course, it was delicious. Conversation between us was easy. It had been from the beginning. I couldn’t remember having this kind of relationship with anyone else in my life. It was just one more thing to motivate me to fix myself.
Gabe had paid for a late checkout because, of course, he had, so we didn’t have to rush after we finished breakfast. I hadn’t been in many hotels in my life and I’d never been in one where they did everything for you. The valet brought the car to the front of the hotel. The porter took our two little bags and put them in the trunk for us. Gabe took it all in stride. I just kept my mouth shut. All of that was nice, but the best part was when Gabe took my hand like it was no big deal and walked out to the car with me.
The drive home was amazingly traffic-free. Being New Year’s Day, the roads were mostly clear, so it didn’t take long to get out of the City. Once we got on the New Jersey Turnpike, I opened the link Gabe sent me and started reading about EMDR therapy. That led me down a rabbit hole of articles about trauma and PTSD until I finally had to put my phone down because I was overwhelmed.
Gabe glanced over at me. “You okay?”
I nodded. “It’s a lot of information. Trauma and PTSD. It’s not like I didn’t know about it. It’s just hard to accept that I might have it.”
“It is,” he agreed. “It took me a while to accept that I had PTSD.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes. “I’m gonna have to do something about it if I want to live my life and be a good father to my son.” I opened my eyes and turned to look at Gabe. “If I want to have something with you.”
His grin was radiant. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.”
He lifted his hand and rested it on top of mine. “You know,” he began. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tattoos.”
“What about them?”
“You didn’t have any before you went to prison, so I assume you got them while you were in prison. I was just wondering how that worked. I didn’t think prisons let tattoo artists come in to give the inmates ink.”
“I snorted. “Hardly. There’s a lot that goes into it, but basically, the tattoo artist makes his own tattoo gun out of stuff you can get in the canteen. The ink is made from soot, alcohol, and water. The needle can be a spring from a ballpoint pen. They use a motor out of a hair trimmer to power the gun and put the whole contraption together with rubber bands and melted plastic. It’s pretty amazing.”
“Wow. That’s ingenious. Do you have to pay for it somehow?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “There’s lots of different ways you can pay for a tattoo. Sometimes it’s canteen credit. Sometimes it’s other stuff.” I rolled my shoulders. “I got lucky.”
“How so?”
“I heard Jace, the guy who did ink in our block, talking about how the motor in his gun stopped working. I got up the courage to talk to him. I told him I was an electrician and asked if I could take a look at it.” I blew out a breath, feeling the anxiety even now. “I was taking a big risk because if I’d fucked up, I would have been in big trouble.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t fuck up,” Gabe said.
“No. I was able to fix the motor and got it to work more smoothly. He thanked me by giving me free ink.” I smiled. “Then he and I worked together to make a better tattoo gun. So, I ended up getting all the ink I wanted for free. Jace and I were pretty tight by the time I got out.”
“Is he still in?” Gabe asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. He killed a man. I didn’t ask how or why.”
“Safer that way, I guess.”
“It depends,” I replied. “Some guys loved to talk about what they did and how they did it. Some guys never said a word. Paul was like that. He would talk about it with me because he trusted me. But overall, he wasn’t much for chit-chat.”
Gabe huffed a short laugh. “Sounds like a SEAL.”
“Definitely,” I said with a wry smile.
The rest of the trip was filled with stories from our teenage years and arguments over what music to play. We made it home a little bit after noon.
I put my bag in my room and went to my laptop to order some of the books that were recommended on the different sites I found to learn about trauma and PTSD. Damian had given me a Kindle for Christmas and a subscription to Kindle Unlimited, so I was able to get several of them right away.
I was determined to get my shit together, not just for myself but also for Cody and for a possible future with Gabe.