9. Gabriel #2
“Help me bring her up to the spare bedroom?” Noah asks as he stands from the couch with Ronnie in his arms.
I nod, and he turns toward the stairs, taking them one at a time slowly as I watch to make sure he doesn’t trip. We get to the spare room, and I open the door for him, then go to the bed and pull back the covers as he gently lays her down.
I replace the blanket over her and brush a few strands of hair out of her face.
She doesn’t budge at my touch, but a small corner smile appears before her features go back to relaxed.
My heart wants to burst at the little gesture she unconsciously made.
I lower and kiss her cheek, then pull back.
Noah does the same, then turns for the door as I follow him.
Once outside the room, I shut the door silently behind me and find Noah standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me.
“I like her, Noh,” is what I find myself saying, needing to make it clear where I stand.
“I know.”
“No, I more than like her. I can’t explain it, but she’s not like the rest of them. She’s not a phase I’ll grow out of or get bored with. I want her, and not just in the fuck and leave way.”
He studies me for a while, not saying anything. Not moving. Finally, he nods, understanding how genuine my words are. “I do, too.”
I should have realized this could happen. We do seem to be interested in the same women most of the time. It’s why we’ve always shared them. That was originally the plan with Vixen as well, until I realized she meant more to me than just a quick lay.
“So, what do we do?”
“We always agreed to both have her, I’m still fine with that. I don’t want to share her with anyone else. But with you, I can accept that,” he says quietly.
I nod. “And what if she only wants one of us?” I swallow around the tightness in my throat, at the thought that she could pick just one of us. That it could be Noah and not me.
His jaw ticks. “Then we man up and wish the other luck.” He clearly doesn’t like that thought just as much as I don’t.
I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to deal with watching Ronnie and Noah happy together while I’m removed from the equation. But he’s also my best friend, and all I want is for him to be happy. I wouldn’t want to lose him over a girl, even if it’s my Vixen.
I reach my hand out for him to shake on our agreement. “May the best man win,” I say once he grabs mine.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he whispers before leaving for the stairs.
Yeah, let’s hope.
~ The Next Morning ~
Ronnie did end up staying the night. Morgan had called during the afternoon while she was still napping, asking if we wanted to come over for dinner. But we told her Ronnie wasn’t feeling well, and that we were going to stay home and watch over her.
She made some mushy comments about feeling the love in the air. Which made me laugh, while Noah just shook his head with a smirk.
Once Vixen woke up, we watched another movie while I made dinner, then we went outside to enjoy the sunset on our new patio, talking about everything and anything. Just joking around and enjoying each other’s company with a beer or two, except for Ronnie. It’s something I could get used to doing.
When we asked Ronnie if she wanted one of us to drive her home, she shook her head and said she would rather stay here for the night.
That Aubrey would most likely spend the night at Greyson’s, which meant no one would be home, and she didn’t feel like being alone.
Shortly after that, she wished us goodnight and went up to the spare room.
Having her close by, only a door away, felt right.
I wanted to go to her, but I knew it wouldn’t be the right move in our new relationship, not yet.
Instead, I laid in bed, awake most of the night.
I could say that she consumed my thoughts, that knowing she was so close was the reason I couldn’t sleep.
But the truth is I feared my nightmares would come to haunt me if I did.
She’s already suspicious about my bedsheets, I don’t need her hearing just how bad it really gets.
After managing four hours of peaceful sleep, considering that my sheets aren’t clawed off the bed and there’s not a sweat stain in sight, I get started with my day by jumping into the shower.
Once clean, I head into my closet and get dressed, checking the time on my phone as I head out of my room. 6:30 a.m.
I quietly step out of my room and into the hallway.
I know Noah’s still sleeping, but he’ll be up in about thirty minutes.
And from the silence I hear through Ronnie’s door, she seems to still be asleep as well, which I expected.
Not everyone wakes up early like I do, and Vixen doesn’t seem like an early bird.
I slowly crack her door open and look inside to find her balled up in bed, the cover up to her neck, while the rest of the bed is now bare of any comforter. Ah, so she’s a cover hog. Good to know. Although the chances of us ever sleeping in the same bed are slim to none.
Retreating quietly, I close the door and head down to the kitchen. I place my phone on the counter and start pulling out ingredients from the fridge for a healthy breakfast that everyone will like, including those for my green smoothie.
My phone suddenly rings with an incoming call. Who the hell calls this early in the morning? I pick it up, checking the caller ID, and my mood instantly drops. Marshall. I growl and silence the call, flipping it face down.
I get back to my task, but now I’m distracted. What the hell does he want? And why is he calling me so soon? I try to shake off the sickly feeling that crawls under my skin, but it’s no use. He’s gotten inside my head with just a simple call.
Fuck it, I guess we’re having Greek yogurt with oatmeal and berries. There’s no point in making a gourmet breakfast now; it will just taste like shit. Exactly how I feel.
Seconds later, my phone starts to ring again. GOD DAMN IT! I breathe through my nose, eyes closed as I clutch the edge of the counter. Just ignore it, Ellis. Just ignore it. He’ll give up. But I know that’s bullshit. He never does. He’ll just keep calling and calling until he gets what he wants.
I can’t deal with this today. Today is game day, our sixth game in the Stanley Cup Finals. If we win this one, the Cup is ours. It will finally be ours. I need to focus on that. I need my head to be in the game, not dealing with my shitbag father.
As expected, my phone starts ringing again the moment it stops. “UGH!” I snatch it off the counter and accept the call. “What the hell do you want?!”
It’s silent for a second until his disgusting drunken voice comes through. “I need more.”
“You need more!? I just gave you a shitload two weeks ago! We agreed to once a month! You can’t just start demanding it whenever you’d like!”
“Listen to me, you little piece of shit! I’ll demand it whenever I want it, and you’ll give it to me. Unless you want that video of you and your bitch out there. I’m sure some gossip magazine would pay me a nice sum for that kind of information,” he spits out.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I bark at him.
He laughs like this is some kind of joke to him. “Then you’d better send me what I want.” He hangs up.
“FUCK!” I send my phone sailing across the room and fist my hair. From the sound produced as it makes contact with the wall, it’s most likely broken, but I’m too enraged to look. I grab onto the counter like it’s a lifeline and bow my head as I try to steady my breath.
“Gabriel?”
My head snaps up at the sound of Ronnie’s worried voice. She’s never called me by my actual name, which tells me she’s more than just concerned.
“Are you okay?” She takes tentative steps toward me, as if she’s not sure if it’s safe to come near me. I hate that. I don’t want her to fear me.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me, Vixen. I’m sorry if I scared you.” I straighten and stretch my arms wide. “But I could really use a hug right now.”
She smiles and nods, then closes the distance between us and enters my arms. I expected her to resist more, to tell me to find someone else to hug. But I guess she can sense how not okay I really am at the moment.
I close my arms around her and take a deep breath as my nose digs into her hair. “Seems we’re both in need of a new phone. I’ll pick two up on my way back from practice.”
She laughs. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I won’t be making you a fancy breakfast this morning,” I say after a beat.
She softens in my arms, hers tightening against my back. “It’s okay. You can make it up to me tomorrow.” So, she’s planning on coming back tomorrow. That will make it four days in a row that she’s here, and I’m not complaining.
I smile against her head. “It’s a deal.”