Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
AVERY
I didn’t know about the snow until late last night, when I checked the weather app just before I fell asleep.
“What do you think?” I ask Ruby. She's looking up at me, eyes excited as her tail slaps at the table legs, making loud, thumping sounds. “Do you know how to manage snow?”
Ruby spins in a circle, as if to say Yes .
I grab the one jacket I brought with me and shove my arms through. I don’t have boots, but I have tennis shoes, and those will have to do.
As soon as Ruby is done going potty, I’ll run into town and grab groceries. I’m out of nearly everything except coffee, and while coffee is vital, I also need food.
“Come on.” I motion for Ruby to come with me. She races to the back door, making it there first.
A blast of arctic air smacks me in the face when I open it. “Sweet Jesus,” I hiss, my breath taking shape in front of me. “That is sharp.”
Ruby bounds outside. I stand in the doorway and watch her. There’s no way I’m going out there with her.
The fallen snow covers Ruby’s favorite spots, so she has to make a big production and reacquaint herself with the landscape. I wait, teeth chattering.
Ruby lifts her head, ears pointed, her body at attention. She pauses, listening, then takes off running at full speed.
I call her name, but it’s useless. “Dammit,” I mutter, hurrying down the stairs. The snow is soft, my tennis shoes falling through as if it’s made of marshmallow. I follow Ruby around the house, then freeze in place.
Gabriel lifts a grocery bag in the air, keeping it away from a bounding Ruby. He hasn’t seen me yet, so I take the time to drink him in. He’s laughing, and wearing a beanie and boots, and dammit if he doesn’t look so at home in this setting. Mountain man looks good on him. Sexy, in fact.
He looks up, and his gaze finds mine. I wave. So does he.
“What are you doing outside?” he calls, frowning slightly as he closes his car door with his foot and walks closer. “You’re not wearing a coat.”
Seeing Gabriel made me forget I’m cold, but now I’ve remembered and my toes are curling in my shoes, my shaking arms crossed over my chest.
Gabriel meets me in front of the house. Snowflakes land on his shoulders and hat. And in his eyelashes. One on his lower lip. My stomach twirls, butterflying. My heart trips, flips, explodes.
“Come inside,” I manage, leading the way to the front door.
Gabriel follows, and Ruby, the traitor, traipses along beside him. I watch as Gabriel toes off his boots and makes his way to the kitchen. “I was at the grocery store last night and picked up some stuff for you.”
I pause, taken aback. “What? Really?”
He shrugs, like it’s not a really sweet thing to do. “You might not like these things anymore. It’s ok if you don’t, I just thought…” he trails off.
I walk to the bag he’s set on the counter and unload the items.
Pre-sliced apples.
String cheese.
Smoked almonds.
Chips and salsa.
Gabriel watches me. “Do you still eat any of that?”
“All of it.” It’s hard to explain what I feel in this moment.
Known .
That’s the best word I can think of, and even that falls short.
Seen.
Loved .
That last one takes my breath away. To cover it up, I busy myself putting the cheese and apples in the fridge, and everything else in the pantry.
I turn back to look at Gabriel. “Thank y—” The gratitude dies on my lips. Gabriel stands in the middle of the small kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest, legs slightly wider than his hips. His presence fills the space, his signature smell invading my nose. There’s no way to describe Gabriel’s scent. He doesn’t smell of body wash, or cologne, or masculine deodorant. My attraction to his scent is biological, and on another level. Apparently, time has not affected it. If anything, it has increased. Perhaps that, too, is biological.
I duck my head, forcing my eyes to find another subject. The corner of the kitchen floor will do. Even better, a piece of dried pasta that never made it into the pot of boiling water last night.
Gabriel backs up until he meets the edge of the kitchen counter. The smell dips fractionally, and I become brave enough to test the air.
Much safer. My head clears with my next breath, and I try again. “I appreciate you bringing all that by. I’m low on food, and I was going to make a run to the store.”
Gabriel thumbs outside. “You were going to drive in that?”
I look out the window, to where the snow falls steadily. “Umm…yes?” It’s clear what a bad idea that would have been.
Gabriel doesn’t speak, but he nods his head slowly. “Well, now you don’t have to.” He pushes off the counter, thumbs hooking in his pockets. “I’ll see you around, Avery.”
“Wait.” My arm shoots out to stop him. “Are you going to drive in that?”
He stares at me for a full two seconds, a smile playing on his lips, then says, “I drove in that to get here. And I’ve lived here for a winter now, so I have some practice.”
“Right,” I nod. My clasped hands bounce on my thighs. “It’s just that, there’s a lot of chips and salsa, and almonds, and I can’t eat them by myself.” What am I doing? Why am I doing it? I know better.
Gabriel’s hopeful expression makes the wrong feel right. “No?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He reaches up, sliding the beanie off his head and running a hand through his hair. It tumbles into messy waves. “Do they have any games?”
My eyebrows pinch. “They?”
“The owners of this place? It’s a rental, right?”
“Yes, yes.” My head bobs, clearing out the cobwebs. “I found a game cabinet my second night here.” I leave the kitchen, which means I have to pass Gabriel. I sail six inches from him, and he doesn’t move. No wide berths found here.
There’s a small cupboard in the dining room. It’s stacked, from bottom to top, with games. I open it and step aside so he can see.
Gabriel comes closer. He sinks down, balancing on the balls of his feet, and peers into the cabinet. “I know better than to suggest Monopoly.”
He’s right. I despise the game.
Gabriel stands, a pack of cards in his hands. “War?”
I clear off the dining room table, pushing aside my notes, and my laptop.
“Are you making progress on the book?” Gabriel asks, shuffling the cards.
I sit down and draw my knees into my chest. “I’ve written a few more chapters.”
“I’m curious to know what happens next.”
I watch his hands deftly arrange the cards into a neat pile. “It appears the story is going in an unexpected direction.”
Gabriel swallows hard. “Why is that?”
“Plot twist.” I bite the side of my lip. “The main character’s ex-husband showed up out of nowhere.”
Gabriel splits the deck in two. “That changes the story?”
“It’s starting to look like it might.” It may be a stupid thing to say. Should I be giving hope to Gabriel? It’s hard not to, when I feel the tiniest flicker of hope igniting in me, too. The more I write the story, the more I see what’s possible. The difficulty is in all the ground the characters will have to cover. How much hurt there is to unpack. And, ultimately, forgive.
Gabriel holds out my cards, and our fingers touch when I take them. It’s not an electricity I feel, but a pull. I’m drawn to him in a way that doesn’t make sense. It surpasses everything I know about attraction, and brain chemicals, and trained responses. It wipes out my fancy degree, my hundreds of hours of studying and researching, thousands of hours in my previous career, and leaves it at its most basic level. This connection between me and Gabriel just is . It exists. As essential as food, air, and water. Nothing we know about why it’s there can fully encompass that it is there at all.
“So your story,” Gabriel says, setting his cards on the table in front of him. I do the same. “Do you know the ending?”
“No.” I flip over my first card. A nine.
Gabriel does the same. A two. We keep going.
“Do you have a sense of what it will be?”
I shake my head. “There are a few possibilities. I have to think about what I want for the main character. Is she supposed to move forward on her own, or find love? With who? A man? Which one?”
“Which one?” A muscle in Gabriel’s jaw tics. “I’d hoped he was temporary.”
I’m not sure what to say. Hudson may not have been permanent, but he was important. To my heart, and my growth as a human. I can’t deny that.
It’s my turn, so I flip over my next card.
“So, Hudson, huh? The guy from your book.” Gabriel’s tone has lost all warmth. “Is that his real name?”
“Yes.” I’m trying not to like his jealous tone, but it’s useless. I do. I like it very much.
“Is he the man I saw you with that day? At the restaurant?” Gabriel lays down a seven.
“Yes.” I flip over my next card. A seven. Time to battle. I lay out three cards. Gabriel does the same. Neither of us lays a fourth card, the way we’re supposed to. Gabriel stares at me.
“You cared for another man.” He sounds heartbroken and indignant, but it’s an empty indignation. Like he knows it’s true, but still can’t believe it.
I stare back at him. “You let me go, remember? You weren’t my husband when I met Hudson. You aren’t my husband now.”
Gabriel’s lower lip tugs with an emotion I can’t name. “You’re always going to be mine, Avery. I’m always going to be yours. I don’t need a piece of paper or a ring to tell me that.” He taps two fingers over his heart. “It’s in here.”
I can’t wrap my brain around his words. His facial expression. It sets loose a roller coaster of emotions in me. Buried amongst it all is a twinge of pleasure.
“Then why? Why give me up? If I’m always going to be yours, why let me go at all?”
Gabriel flips over his next card and lays it down. A queen. “Where is Hudson now?”
I flinch at his subject change. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not together?”
“He broke up with me. He said he needed space.” Hudson was right to protect himself. If he was sick of competing with a ghost, how would he feel knowing the ghost took human form?
“What did he need space from?” Gabriel's upper lip curls, his tone communicating how little he already thinks of Hudson.
“My…” I search for the right word. It’s not easy. “Preoccupation.”
“With what? Writing?”
I swallow the boulder in my throat, shaking my head back and forth and lifting my gaze to meet his.
Gabriel nods slowly, understanding. I proceed with the game, flipping over a fourth card.
An ace.
Gabriel pushes all the cards my way. “You win.”
It’s an interesting word, considering we’ve both been losers for years. “There isn’t a winner.” I sound bitter. I feel bitter.
The muscles in Gabriel’s jaw clench. “When are you going to let yourself be mad at me?”
I frown. “Of course I’m mad at you. I’ve never not been mad at you.”
Gabriel shakes his head. “I don’t just mean angry with me and my choices. I mean irate. Red-hot, fucking fury.”
I know what he means. I felt it. When I found him passed out drunk in St. Lucia. When I got the call about his accident. When he divorced me without laying eyes on me. The fury filled my organs, spread throughout my body and singed my veins. I’d pushed it away, because I didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want to feel something so powerful and ugly toward someone I loved more than myself.
Shouldn’t he be grateful I haven’t acted on this feeling? “Why do you want me to hate you? To be irate?”
Gabriel pushes up his sleeves, eyebrows drawn like he’s trying to work out what he wants to say. “You used to look at me like I was a hero. Like you knew I could keep you safe. Your human shield. From bad guys, from pain. Then the look in your eyes changed. I was the one causing you pain. And you pitied me. I wanted your anger, your hatred, even disgust with the way I was acting. Anything but your pity. I couldn’t take it. Your compassion was suffocating, because I didn’t deserve it.”
“My compassion suffocated you?” How can a person’s mercy and kindness suffocate someone?
I push my cards aside and stand up. “You want some fury? Here it is. It’s bullshit that you can call out my compassion as your reason for letting me go.” I smack a palm on the table. “Do you think you’re the only person in this world who has been looked at with pity? Because you’re not.” Even now, chest heaving with heavy breath, I see the people at my mother’s funeral. My teachers making special exceptions knowing my mother had passed away. The neighbors inviting me and Camryn to eat dinner at their house because they knew my dad would work late and we were alone.
And then, of course, the pity on everybody’s face after Gabriel went to prison. Cam, Dani, Joseph, my dad. Everyone I knew wore the same expression. The only person who didn’t look at me that way was Gabriel, because he caused it all, but I can only imagine that?—
Oh, my God.
Even remembering it, I feel small. Tiny. Isolated. Like a person without power or agency.
I’m Gabriel, and…
…I’m afraid to go home and face my wife.
…I have hit someone with my vehicle, and injured them.
…I have hurt my beloved spouse beyond measure.
…they refuse to be angry with me, even when it’s impossible for them not to be.
…they choose to pity me.
…I feel ashamed and pathetic.
…and I hate it.
“I am mad at you.” My voice wobbles. Dr. Ruben told me I’d have to deal with this, but I didn’t think it would be in this form, in a moment that looks like this. “How dare you? How fucking dare you take my marriage from me? It was mine, and your addiction ruined it.”
My hands tremble. I must look like a crazed woman, overtaken by her emotion. I gesture up and down the length of my body. “Is this what you want from me?”
Gabriel stands, rounding the table and placing his hands on my shoulders.
“I want whatever you feel.” His gaze is intense, imploring me. “That’s all I wanted back then, I just didn’t know how to ask for it. I was buried in my own self-hatred. I still am in some ways, but I’m trying. I really am.”
I look into those dark eyes, trying to understand Gabriel. What he experienced back then. What he’s experiencing now.
“I’m sorry, Avery.” His voice reverberates with meaning. “I can’t take it back, and I’ll never stop being sorry. It kills me to know I hurt you.”
“You did so much more than hurt me. I wanted a life and a family with you. You tore apart my dreams.”
Gabriel only nods, accepting everything I’m sending his way. This is what he wanted from me. My acknowledgment that he split my life into pieces. What good is it doing for him, though? He knew all this already, even when I refused to say it. He knew what he did, how he shattered everything.
This is for me.
Gabriel is asking me to walk through my pain and offering himself up as a target for fury I did not want to feel toward him.
Something else rises through these unpleasant emotions. A tiny memory, poking its way out from the recesses of my brain, something I learned when I was researching longevity in marriages.
My throat is too damn dry to speak, so I go to the kitchen for a drink of water. It gives me time to think. Gabriel’s eyes are on me as I go. Snow falls fast outside the kitchen window.
I return with water for both of us, and hand one to him. “Have you ever heard of a near enemy?”
He drinks all his water and sets the empty glass on the table, then shakes his head.
I lean against the edge of the table and cross my legs at the ankles. “It’s a concept in Buddhist psychology. It refers to a mental state that mimics a positive emotion but actually undermines it.” I feel sadness creep onto my face. “Pity is a near enemy of compassion.” I drink half my glass of water, then set it down beside his. “I’m sorry I pitied you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Avery. The fault is all mine.”
I shake my head at his words. “There’s more. I didn’t take you seriously when you told me you didn’t drink. I drank with you when Ryan died. I got drunk with you. I shouldn’t have agreed to that. I should’ve known better.”
Gabriel steps in front of me. His hands go to my shoulders, his gaze insistent. “That was not your fault. That was all me.”
“I contributed to that. I was complicit. Maybe you would have done it anyway, if I’d said no. We'll never know. But I have to own my part.”
Gabriel leans his forehead to mine. His breath is a warm stream against my lips, the tip of his nose nuzzles mine. “I’ll never stop being sorry for what I did to us.”
“I know.”
We stay that way, absorbing one another’s emotions.
Apologies.
Sorrows.
And, eventually, desires.
It’s me. I move first. My palms find their way to his chest, then spread out to his arms, sliding up until my hands are running through his hair.
My heart settles in, returned to its rightful place at long last.
Gabriel takes a deep breath. His hands leave my shoulders, slipping down over my back, hauling me in until I’m flush against him. His lips hover over mine.
“Say the word, Avery.” The low growl of his voice washes over me. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“I want you. This. Us. I want it.”
He kisses me, and something inside me awakens. I thought I’d moved on, but I see how wrong that was. There is no moving on from Gabriel. There is only a reshaping, making room for today, this moment.
I press against him, desperate for every inch of me to touch every inch of him. All my waiting, all my wanting, at long last relieved. My fingers dig into his coiled back muscles as I settle into our kiss. He tastes like old times, and I cannot get enough of him.
He groans into my mouth, as equally famished for me as I am for him, and the reverberation travels down my throat.
All the way into my heart.
Deep down to my soul.