Chapter 38 Taryn
Taryn
I’m in my room working on the marketing plan when the next text comes in.
And this one is worse than any of the others.
You stupid, stupid little girl, it reads.
You actually think you can hide from me, hide from your stepfather, with something that belongs to me?
You think I’m not going to come after you and take it back?
Or do you just think you have more right to it than I do?
You’re wrong, Taryn. You know you are. You know there’s nowhere for you to run, nowhere for you to hide that I can’t find you.
I own you. I always have. And when I get there, you’ll pay for making me work so hard.
And Gunner and Gabe will pay if they try to stop me.
I drop the phone, my hand shaking too badly to hold it, and clasp my hands together, pressing on the scars in my palm and trying to focus on the pain.
That right there. That burn and ache. That’s something I can count on.
Something I can understand and stop. The moment I stop pressing my hands together, the ache goes away.
And when I stop cutting, the burn fades.
I can control those actions, control the sensation that comes with them.
But nothing will stop the pain my mother creates.
Nothing.
I get up and start pacing, unable to sit still any longer, and try to go through what she’s said so far.
She believes I’ve taken something that belongs to her, and it’s easy to figure that part out.
She thinks I belong to her, body and soul.
She always has. Even when I was little, she didn’t have patience for me being anything but beholden to her.
It was always her way or the highway, so much so that my father and I had a joke that we were going to escape her one day.
Take our things and our laughter and get away from the woman who was constantly trying to keep us down.
We never got that chance, as he was killed before we escaped, but even when I was a kid, I think a part of me knew that he would never run. He was too bonded to her, too attached to her brand of toxicity. He hated it, but I don’t think he would have run away.
Even for me.
And now that I’ve flown the coop and found my own freedom, she’s furious. Here’s where we come to the other part of the text. The more important part.
I get to the end of the room, turn, and walk back the other way, letting my brain tear through the words my mother sent.
She thinks I have something that belongs to her, and it’s not just my body.
It’s what this body is set to inherit. The secrets that my father left to me, written into a will I don’t think my mother ever saw.
He left me something she wants, and as long as I was in New York, she thought she could get it from me after I inherited it.
But now I’m out of her grasp and she’s starting to panic.
She’s going to come after it, and she’s bringing her lunatic gangster husband with her. And I don’t think she’ll stop at anything. Sure, the snow is going to slow her down a little, but it’s melting now and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be safe up here. I know I won’t be safe once she arrives.
The truth is, I’ll probably be more useful to her dead than alive. And I bet Johnny Massimo agrees with her about that.
Still, I already knew all that. This is a problem I saw coming. I’ve just been putting off dealing with it.
The thing I didn’t see coming? Her threatening Gunner and Gabe.
And as it turns out, that right there is the one thing I don’t have a plan for. It’s also the one thing I won’t accept.
I wonder if she actually knows I’m up here or if she’s just taking shots in the dark, trying to get me to admit to something. She’s crazy if she thinks I’ll answer her, but she’s so used to pushing me around that I doubt she’s realized I’m capable of standing up for myself.
Not giving in to her demands.
So she has another thing coming. Because I’m not going to tell her anything, and I’m already executing a plan that will outsmart her. As long as my attorney hurries those papers through and I get them signed and registered before she finds me...
Does she even know I’m up here? Probably not.
But it’s just a matter of time until she finds out.
And then I’ll be battling her in person, and Gunner and Gabe will be at risk.
It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I love them both too much for that, and I will never—never—put them at risk for my own safety.
So it’s time to come up with another plan. A better one.
One that protects the men I love.
* * *
I burst out of my room, unwilling to stay penned in there any longer, and run right into an enormous, immovable object in the hallway.
I bounce off and hit the wall before the set of hands attached to said object reach out and snatch at me, and when I look up, ready to shout at someone, I see Gabe nearly crying with laughter.
“What are you doing, trying to start a war?”
It takes me a moment to pull myself out of my panic about my mother and back into the Hawke household, but once I do, my annoyance transfers right to the mountain of a man who was standing in my way when I tried to get out of my room.
“Yes, Gabe, I’m trying to start a war by running you over.”
He tries to get serious and straighten his lips, but it doesn’t work. He’s definitely about to start laughing again, and I can see the moisture building up in his eyes from holding it in.
“I’m glad you find me attacking you so amusing,” I say.
But my lips want to smile and I can feel the laughter bubbling up in my throat, too.
And it feels so good to have the option of laughing right now—such a relief after my mother’s text—that I let it loose.
Gabe starts to laugh as well, and soon we’re howling with laughter in the hallway, propping each other up and wiping at the tears on our cheeks.
I don’t know why he’s laughing so hard at something that’s really not that funny, but I have a feeling that as usual, he’s just like me.
He needs the laughter so he can hide from something he doesn’t want to look at.
And though I’m pretty sure I know what he doesn’t want to look at, I pretend I don’t, and keep right on laughing.
When we’re done and both flushed and breathless, I look at him suspiciously. He’s dressed like he’s on his way outside, with a coat and boots and hat, and that doesn’t match the fact that he’s in the house and right outside my door.
“What were you doing right outside my door, anyhow?” I ask. “Spying on me? Is this—” I gesture up and down his body. “—Your designated spy gear? Because I don’t think those boots are built for sneaking.”
He suddenly grows aloof and cocky. “Of course this is my spy gear. It drowns out all the sound.”
That’s so ridiculous that I start laughing again. Those boots have soles an inch thick. There’s no way they drown out any sound.
“Luckily for you, they also serve a separate purpose,” he says finally. “They provide warmth when you’re outside.”
“Gabe, speak English,” I say, annoyed. “What?”
He grabs my hand, turns me toward the stairs, and starts pushing me along. “I’m wearing extra jackets so I can give some to you when we get up to the ridge. Because I know you, and I know you never put on enough clothes.”
Especially when he’s shoving me down the stairs and out the door without giving me a chance to grab a jacket, I think. He’s making fun of me for the exact thing he’s currently forcing me to do.
But he’s also promising a trip to the ridge, and that means a sunset in the peace and quiet of the forest. Away from phone coverage and the threat of more texts, with my best friend. So I don’t argue with him.
Besides, he already said he’s got an extra jacket for me.
Just like he always does.
* * *
When we get to the ridge we find several new trees down, courtesy of the storm, and Gabe spends a moment walking around them, his face thoughtful as he measures and plans for them.
My fingers twitch for my camera and several times, I almost bring out my phone to shoot pictures of him planning.
This is exactly the sort of content I want for the campaign I’m putting together for them, and the light is perfect.
The last rays from the sun are brushing the tops of the trees and landing on Gabe, all gold and pink, and he looks like an angel come down to walk the earth and look at the trees.
His hair is blonder in the light and he almost looks like the boy I used to know.
Except for the height. And the muscles. And the raw sexual tension he carries with him like a shield these days.
When he turns to me, though, he’s wearing the face of my best friend and stepbrother, and I walk with him toward the tree where everyone seems to sit up here.
We sink down, our faces to the setting sun and Gabe’s arm around me, and I let him pull me against his body.
He gave me one of his jackets the moment we walked out the door, and I pull it around me to keep me warm and spend several seconds doing nothing but appreciating the fact that I have this man to lean on.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I bite my lip. Gunner knows some of what’s going on but I haven’t said anything to Gabe, and honestly I’m not sure if I want to.
Gabe is more mercurial than Gunner, his emotions so close to the surface, and something inside me doesn’t want to give him bad news.
I don’t want to tell him about my mother or Johnny or the things they’ve done and said to me.
And I really don’t want to tell him that I think they might be on their way up here.
I know he’ll jump right into hero mode, and I’d rather have him here, holding me, than off fighting dragons on my behalf.
“No,” I say softly. “But I will be.”
His arm gets tighter around me and I feel his lips drop to the top of my head. “You will be. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. We’ll find a way. And I’ll keep you safe, no matter what. All in, right?”
My heart rises up out of my chest into my throat, and for a long moment I can’t find my voice, much less breathe. Because in a world where I’ve been passed over again and again, and constantly told that I’m not enough, Gabe’s casual statement is the balm to my soul.
And for just a second, I let myself feel like it will be okay, and like I might finally be safe.
“All in,” I finally whisper, meaning it with every ounce of my soul.