Chapter Seven
R icky would have turned nineteen today. That was his first thought before he’d even opened his eyes. In a way, it was no different than any of the other days that had passed in the ten months since he died. Not one went by that Gabe didn’t think of him.
The sadness went so far beyond any ordinary sadness he’d known before. It swept through him like the avalanche that had killed Ricky, laying waste as it went.
There was nothing left of the old him. Nothing for Angie or his family, or even his work.
He wanted a drink, and it was only seven a.m. Even up here, where he could ignore most rules of society, he wasn’t going to start drinking this early.
He’d hike up the mountain, camp for a night or two. Work himself hard, lose himself.
But no, he couldn’t leave. He’d worry the whole time he was gone that Lucy was in trouble. She might let her fire go out or set the alarm off again. Or worse.
He’d have to make it through the day here. Yet another reason his life would have been easier if she’d never come.
Getting out of bed, he pulled on his running pants and shirt and went outside. The bright light hurt his eyes, and the cold seared his lungs. He hadn’t drunk any water, but he didn’t care. He needed to move, to chase away all thought, all memory.
He headed for the trail, walking first until his muscles warmed up. He was running before the first steep incline, his breath coming hard and fast. This was what he needed, what had kept him sane this past year. His only thought was where to put his feet. His body was a machine, and it did what he told it to. If only his mind would cooperate the same way.
This was the world he’d fallen in love with as a kid, the one that had kept him going during every challenge he faced. After Ricky died, he’d gone back to church to find solace, but he’d left as empty as he went in. The mountains were his church now.
He looked up at the vaulted blue sky and tried to wipe his mind clean.
Forty minutes later, he came off the trail at a jog and slowed to a walk, breathing hard but evenly. Through the trees, smoke was drifting up from Lucy’s chimney.
At least she was keeping the fire going on her own.
After he’d showered and eaten, he worked on some projections his business partner Eddie was waiting for, but ignored Eddie’s call. Dimly he heard Lucy calling to her dog.
She was lonely over there. He could see it in her eyes, but he wasn’t the one to ease it.
He made himself work until five o’clock to prove that he could. When he finally let himself have a glass of whiskey, he barely tasted it. He drank to be numb, in the age-old way guilty men before him had—in search of oblivion.
Night fell outside and the lights in Lucy’s cabin came on—first the living and dining area, then her bedroom. She appeared in her window as if in a picture frame, her hair down around her shoulders, then the blinds shut her away.
He hadn’t looked at a photo of Ricky since he got here. He’d cleared them all from his phone and saved them on his computer, nested deep in a subfolder within backup folders. But he still had a framed picture of the two of them together, his arm around Ricky as they smiled at the camera, celebrating Ricky’s driver’s license.
He’d buried it in a box with books and photos of his family, then couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind when he came here.
Standing up, he turned on the light and went into the bedroom, where he pulled the box out of the closet. He set it on the coffee table, his hands shaking as he lifted the lid. He remembered everything about Ricky’s face, recalled the exact expression he wore in the picture—pride mixed with exasperation that Gabe was making such a big deal out of this rite of passage. But he needed to see it.
He went through the whole box without finding it. How could that be? It was a framed photo, not something that could be easily missed, and he distinctly remembered putting it in there.
Dumping everything onto the coffee table, he went through each album and photo again, one by one, picking them up and putting them back in the box.
It wasn’t there.
He kicked the box across the room, where it crashed into the pile of firewood and sent logs rolling.
In the racket he’d made, it took a few seconds to recognize the knock on the door. He stood there, breathing hard, his mind racing.
Where had it gone?
Another knock. “Gabriel?”
He stood perfectly still, willing her to go away. But of course she would have seen him. The curtains were wide open, the lights on.
“Is everything okay?”
“Go away!” he roared.
The doorknob turned, and she walked in.
He stared at her in disbelief.
She looked at the box he’d kicked, the wood that lay scattered haphazardly, the bottle of whiskey.
“Gabriel, what’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
She set a shopping bag on the floor, pulled a Tupperware container out and placed it on the counter. Next came a large pot. “I made some lentil soup and brownies. I thought you might like some.”
She was Little Red Riding Hood waltzing into the wolf’s den. Goldilocks ignoring the bears at the table.
He was about to tell her he didn’t want her here, and then her hair swung softly away from her face, exposing the smooth column of her throat. She frowned and bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the plush bottom one.
Lust rose in him so quickly, it took his breath.
He was crawling out of his skin.
He wanted to crawl into hers.
***
H is face was haggard , his eyes dark with pain. Lucy put her hand on his arm. “Gabriel?”
It was like touching a wild animal. Tension sculpted the muscles in his shoulders and made his biceps rock hard. He was too big, too powerful, and there was something simmering in him she didn’t understand. Whatever she’d walked into, it was time to get out.
She let out a shuddering breath and took a step back.
His hand closed around her wrist. “Don’t go.”
She gasped as heat shot through her, flooding her veins, pooling low in her belly.
I’m in big trouble.
It was her last thought before he bent his head and kissed her, his mouth hot and rough and tasting of whiskey.
She opened to him on a gasp, his fierce need stealing her breath, her own need rising up to meet his. He groaned and pulled her tighter to him, his big hand spread against the back of her head. His tongue stroked into her, instantly stoking every nerve into arousal.
Standing on her toes, she ran her hands up his chest until she gripped his shoulders, drawing him closer. His hands slid down to pull her hips into him, letting her feel how hard he was for her. She pressed against the muscles of his chest and strained to get closer to his heat, his skin.
Then his hands were beneath her ass, lifting her to him and carrying her until her back was against a wall. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was huge and hard against her, and now his mouth was at her throat.
He was glorious, beautiful and savagely needy as he thrust against her again and again until she was panting and crazed for release.
She wanted him inside her. His heat, his strength, the energy that vibrated off him.
She kissed his neck, then bit him. He took her mouth again, groaning her name as he thrust in slow, glorious strokes against her.
“Please...” she gasped.
He set her down.
“No, wait, I want—”
“I know what you want,” he growled.
He unsnapped her jeans and pushed them down. She nearly fell over in her impatience. Toeing off her shoes, she stepped out of her underwear and jeans.
He was staring at her, his gaze dark, his cheeks flushed above his beard. He froze as she unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a magnificent groan that spurred her on. He was beautiful, but she didn’t have time to stroke him or even worry about his size.
Lifting her again, he brought her down on him, his breath heaving in and out, his arms rigid as he gave her time to adjust.
He controlled her utterly, and she gave herself up to it. Spreading her thighs wider, she pressed her heels into his ass and asked for more.
A groan tore from him as he surged into her. She held on as her world narrowed down to his animal body and hers. Her nails dug into his back, and she bit his shoulder as she got closer to her release. His breath sawed in and out, and she was nearly crazed with the need to come when he backed away. Not much, but there was space between them now.
“No, no...” she gasped, hitting his shoulder.
In answer, he stroked a thumb into her folds and thrust into her, his expression fierce and determined as he watched her. Once, and then again, and she broke around him, splintering into finer and finer waves of pleasure. He drove into her, his final thrusts sending her even higher before he groaned into her neck and shook with his own release.
He held on to her, his forehead pressed to the wall as they caught their breath. Then he pulled away and let her slide gently down until her feet hit the floor.
She gripped his waist as her legs wobbled, his arm around her the only thing holding her up.
Gradually her breath slowed, her skin cooled, and the mindless haze cleared.
Dear God, what had she done?
His jeans abraded the bare skin on her legs, reminding her she was naked from the waist down. She stiffened in his arms and he did the same. She couldn’t even look at his face.
Keeping her eyes to the ground, she let go of him and bent to grab her pants. He was still fully dressed and already tucking himself back into place. Turning away, she dragged her pants on without bothering with underwear, then shoved her feet into her sneakers without tying them.
“Lucy, I—”
She made herself raise her eyes to him and waited for what he had to say.
His face was taut with whatever inner conflict she’d intruded upon. He’d been in the throes of something, some kind of emotional pain, but what was her excuse?
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice shredded.
“I think so.”
He blanched. “Did I—”
“I’m not hurt. I’m just...I don’t know what that was.”
He sat heavily in a chair and let his head fall into his hands.
“Gabriel...are you okay?”
He looked up, his mouth in a grim line. “Not really. But there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“I’m a good listener.”
“I know you are. But I can’t talk about it.”
There was so much pain there, and it wasn’t like her to walk away from someone who was hurting. But he didn’t want her help. Or maybe he didn’t know how to receive it.
“I’ll leave you alone then.”
He hunched his shoulders and said nothing.
“I think I need these more than you do,” she said, grabbing the brownies from the counter. “But you should eat the soup. It’ll do you good.”
Then she was out the door and heading back toward the warm lights of her cabin. Slightly dazed still, she sat at the kitchen table, opened the Tupperware container, and shoved a brownie in her mouth.
Never in her life had she had sex with a man she barely knew, never mind half-naked up against a wall. But she didn’t regret it.
She’d spent years trying to leave her body or think her way out of it. Had been disconnected from it without even realizing it. But what happened back in Gabriel’s cabin...she couldn’t remember ever being so completely in her body. She’d felt powerful, strong enough to take him on.
Having sex with him was a stupid thing to do, a ridiculously unnecessary complication to an already awkward relationship. But her whole body was alive and humming. If it wasn’t dark out, she’d have gone for a hike.
She’d never felt like this with Mark or Sean, the only other men she’d slept with. Maybe three really was the charm.
Too bad they couldn’t do it again.
Getting up, she pulled out the ingredients for blueberry muffins. If she couldn’t run or hike off her excess energy, she’d bake it off.
But first a shower, because she could still smell him on her skin, and God help her, she liked it.
***
G abe sat where he was , the whiskey forgotten.
Blinding pleasure and release, and several blissful seconds free of regret and doubt. He’d never had such an explosive encounter, and it had left him reeling, undefended.
The ache he’d tried to numb into submission throbbed again in his chest. He couldn’t afford to feel anything now. Not tenderness, not regret. Closing his eyes, he bore down on the pain that threatened to erupt until it hardened again, a tight black ball lodged behind his heart.
He’d learned to deal with that pain, to control it, numb it. Now he needed to forget what had happened with Lucy, put it out of his mind.
Only, how was he supposed to do that when she’d opened up to him without hesitation, as hungry as he was? She’d been fierce and greedy, nothing like he’d have expected. He’d been rough with her, completely lacking in finesse, but she’d wanted more.
Maybe she wasn’t as fragile as he thought.
Either way, he was going to have to talk to her. But not tonight. He was still too raw for that.
He fell into bed without changing his clothes. He could still smell her on his skin as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
He slept thirteen hours straight, waking to the sound of Lucy calling her dog.
Lucy.
What would it be like to wake up with her? To see her sleepy eyes, feel her loose-limbed body against his?
No, he couldn’t think about that. Nothing like that could ever happen with her.
He drank his coffee standing at his front window, watching her throw some kind of toy that Hilde ran and caught, over and over. Grabbing his binoculars, he trained them on Lucy’s face. She was laughing, her long hair lifting lightly in the breeze. She threw the red rubber toy again and hugged herself as if she were cold.
She didn’t look devastated.
He’d let things get the best of him yesterday, but he couldn’t do that again. He already knew things about her he shouldn’t. The scent of her skin, the heat and taste of her. How her hair was silky and fine, her collarbone delicate under his clumsy hands.
The scent of her still lingered on his skin, an intimacy he didn’t deserve or know what to do with. He washed it away in a hot shower, refusing to let himself imagine her there with him, her skin slicked with water. There was no place for that in his life now. Those last months with Angie had proved it. His entire existence up here proved it.
Afterwards, he faced himself in the mirror. He hadn’t cut his hair since coming up here, hadn’t trimmed his beard in weeks. He looked wild, menacing even.
Was that why Lucy looked at him the way she did? Was she scared of him?
A day ago, he wouldn’t have cared. Today, the thought left him chastened.
He’d go to the barber sometime this week, but he could fix his beard now. Digging his clippers from a drawer in the vanity, he trimmed it closer, then shaved a neat line on his cheeks and along his throat.
That was better.
He had an honest-to-God hickey on his neck. It was faint, but he remembered her teeth on him as he sank into her. If only he didn’t remember the heat and silk of her or the sounds she made as she came apart.
He forced those thoughts aside. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let himself get aroused before talking to her.
By the time he got dressed, Lucy and Hilde were no longer outside. He made his way to her door, then stood there, too nervous to knock. But inside Hilde started barking, forcing him to knock so he wouldn’t look like a fool.
She didn’t come immediately, and he had time to wonder if she’d ignore him out here. He was debating whether to knock again or go home when the door swung open.
She stood in the doorway, her normally expressive face unreadable. She didn’t say anything, but Hilde rushed him, her tail wagging as she stuck her snout into his hand.
He patted Hilde’s head, grateful for the distraction. “Can we talk?”
Her face softened a fraction. “I suppose we’d better,” she said, heading through the mudroom and into the kitchen.
She leaned against the counter and waited.
“About yesterday. I’m sorry if I—” He cleared his throat. “If I pushed you, or, I don’t know...You caught me at a strange time, but that’s no excuse—”
“Gabriel.”
He made himself look at her. He’d take whatever she dished out. It was only fair.
“I don’t know what that was yesterday, but you didn’t make me do anything. I wanted it, too, but now I’d rather we forgot about it.”
“Great. I agree.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t leave without asking one more question. “Could I have gotten you pregnant?”
A flush spread over her cheeks. “I have an IUD, so that’s not an issue.”
“Thank God.”
The first gleam of humor came into her eyes. “Tell me about it.”
“I’ve never been so careless before. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think it’s safe to say neither of us was thinking.”
No, he’d wanted to stop thinking. Wanted to lose himself in whiskey, and when that didn’t work, in her. For a few glorious minutes, he had.
“I’m healthy, for what it’s worth,” he said. “I haven’t been with anyone since I came up here, and before that I was with someone for five years. But I’ll, ah, I’ll get tested if that would make you feel better.”
She tipped her head to one side. “If you say you’re healthy, I believe you.”
His breath left him in a long sigh of relief. She trusted him. Who knew why, but she did.
The pressure in his chest eased.
She gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m also healthy. I was with someone for a long time, too.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Still.”
“So we’re good then?”
“We’re good.”
There must be more to say after what happened between them, but he wasn’t sure what. “No more trouble with the fire?” he asked.
“No. I’ve got it under control.”
“Thank you for the soup. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I was trying to be neighborly.” A little smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Plus, I have a lot of time on my hands.” She pulled a container toward her and opened it up. “Have one.”
She was giving him muffins. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. That was always his first reaction these days. But he was hungry, dammit, and it was a nice gesture.
A peace offering.
“Thank you,” he said, taking one.
Her eyes lit up, and she smiled for real now, as if nothing could have pleased her more.
He hadn’t wanted to come here, but now he was strangely reluctant to leave. “Give a holler if you need anything.”
“I’ll call you. No more unannounced visits.”
He hadn’t blushed in about twenty years, but it was possible he was now. He headed for the door without another word, muffin in hand.
“Gabriel.”
He stopped and turned back around.
“Whatever happened that had you so upset yesterday, I’m sorry about it.”
He walked back to his cabin and let himself in, barely conscious of his surroundings. The pressure in his chest was there again, worse than ever, because he’d wanted to tell her. She was kind, and he knew instinctively she’d listen.
But he didn’t want kindness. He didn’t deserve it.
It wouldn’t have mattered even if he did, because he didn’t have the words to tell her.