Chapter 19
Idon’t know how long I sit on the floor after Gabriel leaves before the pain in my legs drags me out of the fog of self-recrimination.
Pins and needles race from my feet to my knees from staying in the same position for too long. I shift, wincing, unsure how long I’ve been here.
My finger still stings from where the paper sliced it open, but the blood has dried into a thin brown line across my thumb. I dig my nail into it, welcoming the dull throb that follows.
Physical pain is so much easier to handle than this.
The bare walls of my apartment stare back at me. Nothing personal. Nothing permanent. I’ve kept this place ready to abandon at the drop of a hat for so long that the emptiness has become its own kind of statement.
No photos. No mementos. Nothing that can’t be left behind.
Just like me.
I push off the floor, knees creaking. My footsteps echo as I cross to the kitchen counter where my phone sits. The screen lights up when I tap it, and my thumbs hover over the keyboard as I compose a message I never thought I’d send.
Saint
I crossed a line.
I took something you trusted me with, and I used it to hurt you. On purpose.
What happened to me isn’t an excuse.
I don’t expect forgiveness, but I needed to tell you I see it now.
As soon as I hit send on the last message, my stomach clenches into a knot. Then I stare at the Delivered notice, waiting for it to switch to Read, waiting for those little bubbles to appear to tell me he’s responding.
Minutes stretch into a quarter hour, and the phone remains silent in my hand.
I type a second message, keeping it short this time.
Saint
Can we talk?
It joins the first four in digital limbo, delivered but unread.
My fingers twitch, wanting to throw the fucking thing at the wall, to shatter the screen into pieces just like I did to the relationship growing between Gabriel and me. But I can’t afford a new phone, and the momentary satisfaction won’t fix what I’ve broken.
Instead, I pace the length of my living room, five steps in one direction before hitting the wall, five steps back. The cheap carpet is worn in this exact path from all the nights I’ve spent walking this same route, trapped in my own head with nowhere else to go.
This place isn’t a home. It’s just somewhere I exist between shifts at work.
I stop pacing and stare at my phone again.
Still nothing from Gabriel.
The anger flares, then fades just as fast, replaced by acceptance. Why would he respond?
My thumb slides across the screen, scrolling through contacts until it lands on Micah’s name. My finger hovers over the call button, not quite connecting.
He’s called me six times. I owe him this much.
I press the button before I can talk myself out of it again, bringing the phone to my ear as it rings once, twice, three times. My throat tightens with each ring, relief and anxiety battling for dominance.
“Saint?” He pauses to give me time to speak, and when I don’t, his concern bleeds through the line. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m fine.”
The silence that follows tells me he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t call me on it, either.
“Gabe and I had a fight,” I admit, the words inadequate for the damage done. “I need to check if he’s okay.”
Micah’s breath catches, and I can picture him in whatever luxurious room he’s claimed at Rockford Manor, sitting up straighter as he pieces together far more than I’m saying.
“He’s not at the manor,” Micah says carefully.
“But you know where he is?”
A long silence fills the line, followed by the click of a door shutting on his end before he whispers, “He’s been staying at Caleb’s townhouse in Rockhaven while Caleb’s out of town on business.”
Somehow, I knew Gabriel wouldn’t go home to his family, despite everything. He’s isolating himself, same as I would.
“What happened, Saint?” Micah asks, still whispering.
“I fucked up.” My throat closes around the words. “Worse than I’ve ever fucked up before.”
Another pause, this one filled with the sound of Micah breathing, considering his next words.
“You should fix it,” he says at last. “Before things get worse.”
“I know.” The torn envelope on the floor becomes impossible to ignore. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder,” he says with quiet urgency. “The longer you wait, the harder it gets.”
“Can you send me the address?” I ask.
“If I do, Sebastian will find out, and I can’t promise he won’t tell Aaiden,” he cautions. “They’re worried about Gabe.”
“Right.” I open my junk drawer and dig around for a pen and paper. “Give it to me over the phone.”
Micah rattles it off, and I hang up. The phone drops onto the counter with a clatter as I bend to retrieve the envelope from the floor.
I fold it and slip it into my jacket pocket as I grab my keys and head out the door.
For once, I’m not going to run away from my problems.
Gabriel spent so much time chasing after me, showing me again and again that he cared for me. It’s time I start doing some of the heavy lifting on my end if I want to win him back.
My motorcycle roars through the quiet streets of Rockhaven, the engine’s growl bouncing off stone facades and manicured hedges. Each block I travel takes me deeper into territory that wasn’t meant for men like me.
The streetlights here don’t flicker or buzz. Their steady golden glow illuminates pristine cobblestone streets without a crack or pothole in sight. Even the air smells different, crisp and fresh, with no hint of fast food or garbage.
I slow at an intersection of townhouses and boutique shops. Wrought-iron balconies stretch from second-story windows, plants cascading from hanging pots, while window boxes burst with colors.
Ignoring the car that stops behind me, I pull out my phone to check the GPS. Gabriel’s cousin’s townhouse should be right around here.
The line on the map says it’s just ahead, and I rev my engine, getting back into motion before someone calls the cops on me.
I round the final corner, and a cul-de-sac opens before me, six townhouses arranged in a perfect semicircle.
Each stands two stories tall, narrow but deep, with floor-to-ceiling windows and small front gardens separating them from the street.
Five have dark facades of brick or stone, classical and understated.
The sixth, at the very end, stands apart, a sleek structure of gray concrete and glass that cuts a modern silhouette amidst its traditional surroundings. Even in this neighborhood of wealth, it announces itself as different.
Caleb’s townhouse. It has to be.
Warm light glows behind a series of narrow, floor-to-ceiling windows with a modern vibe, casting strips of gold onto the small front lawn. A security camera perches above the front door, its red light blinking.
So much for Micah’s caution. I’ll eat my jacket if his security husband doesn’t already know where Gabriel has been hiding.
I kill the engine halfway down the street and wheel my bike the rest of the distance, not wanting to announce my arrival any louder than necessary. In the sudden silence, the faint tinkle of wind chimes from a nearby porch fills the air, along with the distant hum of traffic beyond the cul-de-sac.
I park at the curb and pull off my helmet, hanging it from one handlebar. My pulse races as I swing my leg over to stand on the sidewalk, breath fogging in front of me in the cool night air.
The words I’ve rehearsed during the ride here circle through my mind, each iteration sounding more inadequate than the last.
I was wrong.
I’m sorry.
I don’t want to be the kind of man who hurts you.
The simple phrases should come easily, but I’ve never apologized to anyone, not even Micah. I show my remorse with pastries, and we move on. Survival doesn’t leave room for remorse when you’re fighting to stay alive, and growing up in the same place, he always understood.
But Gabriel isn’t Micah, and what I did won’t be resolved with a cheese danish.
My hand drifts to my jacket pocket, feeling the rectangle of the envelope through the leather. I brought it to give back to him, unopened, unread. A small gesture that can’t possibly undo what I’ve done, but it’s all I have to offer.
That and the truth.
A curtain twitches in the house next door, the movement so slight I might have imagined it if not for the shadow that passes behind the fabric.
Someone is watching from behind that pristine window, curious about the stranger lingering outside, and their suspicion pricks at my skin, an itch I can’t scratch.
The residents of Rockhaven notice everything that doesn’t belong, and I couldn’t belong less if I tried. My jeans are worn thin at the knees, my boots scarred with soles ground down by years of walking streets these people would never set foot on.
Everything about me screams danger to people who’ve never had to fight to survive.
In Foundation or the Blue Note, my appearance helps me to blend in. Here, it’s a flashing neon sign that screams I’m an outsider and a threat.
Another car rolls past, slowing as it approaches me before accelerating away. The driver doesn’t bother hiding their scrutiny, phone already in hand, perhaps calling neighborhood security to report my presence.
I don’t have much time before someone comes to escort me out of this manicured paradise. If I’m going to speak to Gabriel, it needs to be now.
With one final deep breath, I step away from my motorcycle. My heart pounds harder the closer I get to the house, my legs shaking.
What if he refuses to open the door? In this fancy neighborhood, I can’t camp out on his doorstep and wait for him to come out on his own. I’ll get arrested.
I raise my hand to the door, pulse hammering as the blood rushes to my head.
The world goes fuzzy around the edges, whether from nerves or the lack of food for the past three days, I can’t tell.
My knuckles hover an inch from the sleek gray surface, close enough to feel the cool air radiating from the metal.
For a second, I consider turning back, running to my bike, and disappearing into the night as I’ve done so many times before.
But I won’t. Not this time.
My knock echoes in the quiet night air, and I cringe, only noticing the doorbell after the fact.
No response comes from inside, but a shadow passes behind the frosted glass panel beside the door. He’s there, watching, deciding whether to acknowledge me.
My mouth goes dry as seconds stretch into a minute. The night air bites at my exposed skin, and I shove my hands into my jacket to stop from knocking again.
The lock clicks, metal sliding against metal, and I suck in a shaky breath.
The door opens a crack at first, then wider as Gabriel appears in the gap. The faded T-shirt he wears hangs loosely on his frame, and his hair is flat on one side like he’s been lying down.
Shock registers as he sees me standing on the doorstep. “Saint? How did you— What are you doing here?”
I swallow, trying to find the words I rehearsed on the ride over, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and all I manage is, “I needed to see you.”
Gabriel’s grip tightens on the door, his knuckles whitening. “How did you find me?”
“Does it matter?” I pull the envelope from my pocket, holding it between us. “I came to give this back. I didn’t open it.”
His focus shifts to the envelope, and hesitation gives way to relief. Before he can respond, though, his attention jumps to a point over my shoulder, and his entire body tenses.
The door swings open as he lunges forward, one hand reaching for me. “Get down!”
Too late, I feel the vibration of footsteps racing up the concrete steps behind me. My instincts scream to duck, to turn, to fight, but my body moves too slowly, sluggish with exhaustion and the shock of Gabriel’s reaction.
A hard object shoves against the small of my back. A gun? A knife?
Gabriel grabs for me, dragging me toward the door. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear it past Jade’s warning detonating in my head.
Watch your back better.
I should have fucking listened.
Twin metal prongs pierce through my jacket and shirt, and the first jolt hits like a hammer to the spine, electricity arcing through every nerve ending at once. My muscles seize, locking rigidly as fire races along my veins. The envelope falls from my fingers, floating to the ground in slow motion.
I can’t breathe, can’t scream, can’t move.
Gabriel’s hand closes around my wrist as I fall, my body out of my control. And then he’s jerking, too, as a second taser takes him in the chest.
Another shock slams through me, worse than the first. My teeth clench so hard that blood fills my mouth from where I bit my tongue. The coppery flavor floods my mouth as my vision fractures into pieces, reality splintering around the edges.
Darkness closes in from the sides, my field of vision narrowing to a tunnel. Through it, I see Gabriel on the ground, lying inside the townhouse, his back arched and teeth clenched in pain.
I failed to watch my back.
Failed to tell Gabriel I’m sorry.
Failed to fix what I broke.
As darkness swallows me whole, a final thought surfaces from the chaos of my mind.
I never got to tell him that I love him.
But maybe it’s better this way.
He deserves more than I could ever give him.