Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Gabriel paced. His boots scraped across the parking lot, a rhythmic sound that he followed like a metronome.
The fireside conversation in the center of the parking lot held no interest for him.
As one of the first temperate nights in months, Judd wasted no time in building a small fire in the center of the parking lot.
People filtered in as duties permitted, some cooking food over the open flames and others just enjoying the warmth of the fire and the company around it.
Normally, Gabriel would be with them. Usually just enjoying Judd and Phin’s heckling, or Tommy’s quiet observations. Sometimes, Victoria would even tell them stories of her flying days. Even Irving joined them once. It was a nice reprieve.
But not tonight. Not for Gabriel.
It had been over twelve hours since Blake left, and he couldn’t sit still. He could feel his team’s eyes on him as he paced, circling just outside the ring of light like a predator skulking in the night. Keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen. To protect his soft underbelly.
Gabriel couldn’t sit still. His skin was itchy, stretched too tight. His breaths were shallow and quick, like his body was primed and ready to go. Ready to move, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fingers clenching and unclenching while his heart rabbited in his chest.
God, he wanted a drink.
It had been years since he’d had a drink, but he could still remember the feel. The weight of the bottle. The coolness of the glass in his palm. Peeling the sodden label with his thumbnail. Even the clink of the bottle on his teeth, like a herald trumpeting relief.
Alcohol was easy to find. The crates stacked in the corner of their little canteen called to him like a siren song.
They always did, but it used to be distant—muted by time and willpower.
The little coins he hated so much at first but then clung to like a testament to his will, a reminder of what he could do, acted like steel reinforcements.
It kept his hands in his pockets and his tongue dry.
But now those coins were lost, probably melted down underneath some rubble. His pockets were empty of hands and crochet hooks. The call was loud, so loud. He couldn’t ignore it. A symphony between his ears, pounding and pounding, until all he wanted to do was give in.
Just a taste. A swallow. And why shouldn’t he?
Sobriety didn’t count anymore. Not when he’d gone toe-to-toe with extraterrestrials and survived. Not when the whole world was in flames, and he was scraping a living in a shitty motel with nothing but canned peaches and the cold wind biting at his nose.
Persuasions and justifications strangled him.
Just one.
Who would it hurt?
He deserved this.
Why does it even matter?
One drink wouldn’t ruin everything.
They pulled at his spine, dragging him closer and closer to those boxes. Ones so full no one would miss a bottle. His knees locked as he swayed toward their orbit, the last dregs of his stubbornness holding fast.
Gabriel shook his head and walked faster, stretching his fingers out from where they’d gone white from clenching so hard.
He could feel eyes on him. No one had said anything, but they didn’t have to.
He’d been with his team long enough to know exactly what they were thinking.
The others, too. They’d quietly whispered platitudes he’ll be fine.
Or worse, the questions. Why did it matter if Blake went? They all had to do their share.
Because Blake wasn’t like them.
Blake was different. Special. He was Gabriel’s priority. He was the reason Gabriel woke up in the morning, the reason he tied his boots, the reason he still turned his back on the drink.
He was Gabriel’s mission.
If he left with Alvarez, it’s because he couldn’t come to you.
Gabriel faltered, steps slowing as he stared out into the darkness. Firelight flickered on the car windshields, like little stars speckled in the night.
As a soldier, Gabriel wasn’t accustomed to failure. From his first day at boot camp, he was told failure wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive. Not if he wanted to keep his men alive.
And Gabriel was a good soldier. He took orders. He followed his mission parameters. He didn’t fail.
So how was it that in his most important mission, he’d failed so miserably?
Blake tried to tell him. Repeatedly. But Gabriel had shrugged him off. Thought he could fix it by being a good boyfriend. He thought books, dates, and attention could fix it.
In the blurred lines between lovers and his commander, Gabriel had forgotten that at his core, Blake was a medic. He didn’t choose the profession for the glory, and he sure as hell didn’t choose it for the money. It was a calling. Blake was his own kind of soldier.
Gabriel had treated him like something fragile. Something that had to be protected instead of utilized. Everything he’d told him at the beginning—how his gift was a superpower to be used—fell apart at the thought of losing him.
He was a hypocrite, and if something happened to Blake, it would be his fault.
Phin scuffed his feet as he approached Gabriel, deliberately making noise. “You should sit down.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. “I can’t.”
The taller man didn’t answer. He tucked his hands into his pockets and stared out over the parking lot. The flickering shadows made hills and valleys of his face. His hair was growing out. Gabriel had never seen it anything but buzzed.
“Tommy says the refugees are improving. Guy might even keep his fingers.”
Blake would like that, Gabriel thought. “Good.” His voice sounded thin, like air leaking out of a small hole in a balloon.
Phin kicked at a pebble, his face drawn. “We’re used to leaving.” He glanced over at the fire. “Being left is…much harder.”
Gabriel huffed, almost a laugh. Phin was right.
How many times had he sent a quick goodbye text to his mom, or shrugged when his sister asked where he was going?
He never stopped to consider how they would feel.
The constant wondering. Living every day waiting for a phone call or a knock at the door, never sure if they should answer or have a few more moments of purgatory.
“I’m not a fan,” Gabriel answered, blowing out so he could watch his breath fog up. “But I think I get it now. Or at least, more of it. If…if he comes back, I’ll do better, I’ll fix it.”
Phin’s lips quirked. “That’s a soldier for you. Might take a couple hits, but we’ll get there eventually.” He punched Gabriel in the shoulder. “He’ll come back. Tommy will kill him if he doesn’t.”
Gabriel wished it were that simple. He was about to make a comment about eating kale being worse than death, but then he heard a shout. Whipping around, he saw Judd standing, blocking the light from the fire with his hand.
Then he saw it. In the distance, a quick flick of a light. Long and short pauses. Morse code from one of the sentries on the perimeter.
Someone was coming.
He took off across the parking lot. The sentries would have sounded the alarm if there was danger, which meant it could only be—
And there, through the darkness, he could hear the rumble of a diesel engine coming up Main Street.
At first, all he could see was the same dark he’d been staring at for hours.
To his right, he could just see the waning moon’s light catching on the river; it was distracting, drawing him away from the endless blank landscape.
Then the shadows began to coalesce into a shape. The square body of the truck punched through, tires crunching as it unhurriedly turned into the parking lot.
They were all moving before the truck rocked to a stop. Gabriel could only see two people in the cab, neither of whom looked familiar, so he raced to the back. His heart was hammering so hard against his chest that he could hardly breathe.
The tailgate dropped with a thunk, and Beaumont hopped down stiffly. His gun was lying in the bed, and he used both hands to help a wincing Alvarez down.
“Blake!” Gabriel shouted, grabbing the taillight to spin himself around. And then he saw him.
Blake was nestled up against the cab, hunched over. In the low light of the fire, he could just see the whites of his eyes and the profile of his nose. Blake was looking at him, but he wasn’t saying anything.
“Blake, what—”
That’s when Gabriel saw what Blake was holding. A small child sat up from his arms, blinking groggily. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, scooting closer to Blake when she saw everyone staring at her.
“It’s okay,” Blake said, his voice raspy. “They’re friends.”
She looked dubious until Judd pushed his way through the crowd. He smiled, hands on his hips. “Well, shit,” he drawled. “Looks like we got a little surprise here.”
Victoria swatted him. “Language.”
“Nah,” Judd said, his eyes twinkling. “She’s tough enough to handle it. Aren’t ya?”
The little girl’s lip wobbled. She nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“S-Sara.”
Judd knocked on the tailgate before calling out over his shoulder. “Hey, you hear that? Our new friend Sara needs some chocolate, ASAP. Let’s go, people!”
A few people chuckled and left to go procure the girl something.
Chocolate was scarce, but someone would have a secret stash.
With the promise of sweets and Judd’s big smile, Sara tentatively stepped forward.
Judd helped her out of the truck like she was a princess.
His easy drawl was pulling her in, and she hung off every silly word he said.
It wasn’t until they left that Blake began moving. He was stiff, and Gabriel reached for him, but Blake didn’t even look at his hand, dropping down from the truck with a grunt. He gave Gabriel a wide berth, ignoring his plaintive calls as he followed the rest toward the motel.
His coldness was like a knife slicing through all of Gabriel’s anxiety. He’d spent so much time worrying about Blake getting hurt that he never considered the possibility that he’d come back angry.