14. Carly
CHAPTER 14
CARLY
T here’s a second where the tender embrace of sleep still grips me, and none of the things that happened to me yesterday have happened. There’s a second where the warm, comfortable glow I’m feeling is from nothing more than my own bed, my own pillow.
And then I realize it’s not my own bed or my own pillow.
It’s Gabe’s chest.
I sit up with a start. My sudden movement wakes him up, and a hot flush races down my face, making me beetroot red.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“What…?” He groans, blinking sleep out of his eyes. As he realizes what’s happening, his back straightens and his own cheeks flush.
He gets up briskly, looks down at me and says, “I’m going to the kitchen,” before I can say anything else. Then he marches briskly off, leaving me gaping on the sofa.
It’s almost cute seeing him flustered like this. It’s certainly worlds away from the unlovable, grumpy Gabe that I first met when I got here.
It’s like he didn’t know what to do with himself, like he didn’t know where to put his hands or direct his gaze. I don’t know him well at all, but I feel like I know him enough by now to know that running away was a coping mechanism for him.
In honesty, if he hadn’t been the first to run, I wouldn’t have been far behind.
I don’t remember falling asleep last night. I barely remember what we did at all. What I do know is that falling asleep on the sofa was not the plan.
The worst part is that I can’t say I hated it.
It’s been a long time since I woke up in someone’s arms, and even longer since I could begin to say it was with someone I was attracted to.
Not that I am attracted to Gabe, of course. He does have a certain rugged handsomeness about him, and I’m sure that if he smiled, he’d be the kind of person that you couldn’t look away from. But he has the personality of someone who gave up on people a long time ago and wants you to know exactly how much he hates you.
At least that was what I thought until he invited me to his home.
I run it all through my mind again, the conflict of personality that he’s been showing me. It’s so easy to sit here and say that he doesn’t care, that he’s horrible, that he’s unkind, but honestly, even if he wanted me to believe that, I’d struggle.
And what’s more, it’s not like I can blame him for his ill manner. I’ve done nothing but cause him trouble since I got here. Maybe that means it really is time to leave.
I get up and stretch, tilting my head from side to side, wincing at the way my neck cracks. Turns out that your body really doesn’t like it when you fall asleep on the sofa after you turn thirty.
When I was younger, it would have been hard to imagine ever getting to an age where my body betrayed me like this. I thought it was something that only happened to old people. I guess this is a sign that I should work out more.
I wander over to a window and look out. Somehow, snow is still falling from the sky. I don’t think it stopped at all since last night. My face falls at the sight.
Nice as Gabe’s hospitality is, I had been hoping to get out of here today to salvage whatever was left of my career. If I’m really lucky, I’ll still have clients booking me and this will be a blip.
If not, though…
But that’s something I don’t want to think about right now. The cowardly action would be to run upstairs and ignore Gabe for the rest of the day, to avoid him as much as possible, and if I did see him act like nothing had happened at all.
Part of me kind of wants to go to him and apologize, but in the end, I decide on the middle ground of not ignoring him but also not acknowledging what happened. I can’t even start to process the idea of waking up in his arms, let alone the consequences of it.
After taking a breath and plastering a client-pleasing smile on my face, I pad slowly towards the kitchen. Gabe is at the stove cracking eggs into a pan.
“Morning,” he grunts. “Do you like scrambled eggs?”
“Um, yeah,” I say, “that’s my favorite kind.”
“Good. Breakfast will be ready in ten.”
“Oh, thank you. I didn’t realize this was an all-inclusive stay.” It’s a weak joke, and it doesn’t get a laugh. I wasn’t expecting it to. He’s clearly acting as nonchalantly as me, pretending that nothing happened, which makes me feel better about wanting to as well.
But part of me needs to know if it made him feel anything inside like it did me… or if it’s all just an act of my stressed and overactive imagination.
“Last night—” I start.
“Don’t,” he cuts me off. I clamp my mouth shut in surprise. He shakes his head and adds, “I mean, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
He looks away from me, back at his eggs, and I swallow hard. For some reason, tears are threatening to fall again, which is a stupid reaction to have over a man that I don’t know, don’t like, and I’m never going to see again.
I must be out of my mind to have thought that anything could have been remotely likely to happen between us. It must be a product of the stress and the loneliness that I’ve never quite managed to shake. He’s clearly not interested.
So I decide to let it go.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I say. “You really didn’t need to.”
He says nothing, and I decide it’s best not to push. He doesn’t seem comfortable when being forced to acknowledge that he has feelings like a human being. And now I’m lingering totally awkwardly, so I excuse myself to brush my teeth and get dressed.
I’ve barely unpacked since I’ve been here. But then again, I’m not really planning to stay, so that doesn’t matter. I pull on a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater and try to gather myself into a presentable person before I head back downstairs. I don’t need to look nice for him, but I don’t want him thinking I’m a slob either.
When I return to the kitchen, I’m greeted with a whole breakfast spread. While I’ve been getting ready for the day, Gabe has cooked up bacon and sausages, hash browns and eggs. The full works.
“You whipped all this up just now?” I ask, staring at it in wonder.
He squints. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Still, I really appreciate it.”
“You do eat sausage, don’t you?” he asks, almost ignoring everything I’m saying.
“Yes,” I say, deciding that conversation isn’t something we’re going to be having this morning.
If it was something he wanted, the silence over the breakfast table isn’t convincing me.
“I guess I should be getting going today,” I say eventually as Gabe goes to grab his third helping. I thought I was a person with a healthy appetite, but I’ve got nothing on him.
“Where to?” he says through a mouthful of hash browns.
“I should at least try and make it to my client.” He snorts derisively, and irritation flares up in my chest. “It might be funny to you, but this is the last job I have scheduled for months. Winter isn’t exactly a busy time in the wedding industry. I’m relying on this job to keep me in business. Without it, everything I have is going to go towards rent and food, never mind anything fun.”
I sigh, realizing that, yet again, I’ve overshared with him. And as usual, he gives nothing back, sympathy or anything else.
“How are you going to get out of here?”
My mouth opens and closes again. “Someone must have a car I can borrow. Or you can even just fix the bare minimum.” He shakes his head. “Okay, so that’s a lost cause. There must be a taxi service. Something I can do.”
He shakes his head again. “Not in this weather.”
“I don’t want to be stuck here,” I say, trying not to whine. “I want to go back to my life.”
“Believe me, I want that too,” Gabe says. “But for as long as it’s snowing, it looks like this is where you’re going to stay.”
Tears prickle at the back of my eyes, and I clench my fists, determined not to let him see me crying again. “I can’t stay. I need to get back to work or everything will fall apart.”
“Well, good luck getting out of Mullen Falls. Once you’re here, you’re here forever.”
“Does anyone even get married in this town?” I scoff. “I doubt anyone could afford my prices. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to afford my own prices. Not that I’m ever getting married. Nobody wants me that much.” Salt is stinging my eyes now, blurring my vision, and my fingers are leaving red marks on my palms as I try to hold the flood back.
I don’t know why I’m saying any of this. I don’t even know why we’re arguing.
Gabe gets to his feet, takes his plate over to the sink and drops it in loudly. His back to me, he mutters, “Looks like you’re staying here, whether you want to or not. Do whatever you want, but don’t ask me about your car again. It’s not going to be fixed today or tomorrow. But if this client fires you for real, I’ll waive the fees.”
With one sentence, he knocks all the air from my lungs.
It stops my bitterness and anger in their tracks. “You’ll what? You don’t have to do that.”
He just grunts.
Then he turns on his heel and, without even glancing at me, marches off towards the door. “Where are you going?” I yell.
“To shovel snow,” he shouts back. I hear him stomp away through the hall, and the front door slams shut behind him.
I slump down into my chair. What does he mean he’ll waive the fee? Cars cost a fortune, and I don’t want him to do all that labor for me with no repayment. I’m not a cheapskate. Even if it would help my finances out a lot, I can’t accept his offer.
This is the most confusing thing about Gabe. He always seems angry when he talks to me, but every word he says is so kind. He blows hot and cold at me at the same time, and it’s making me dizzy.
Choking back a sob, I run upstairs, not wanting him to see me if he comes back in. I run to my room and into the bathroom, where I finally let tears fall down my face. I need to shower. The hot water will clear my head. It always does.
But as I undress and step in, I realize that the smell of Gabe still clings to my skin, his musk, the firewood, and I realize I don’t want to wash it off.