Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
GAbrIEL
Cam and Dani sent Laramie home and snuck out the back. On their way out, Cam reached for a knob on the wall and turned down the lights. She made a face and promised that would be her last time meddling in our relationship. Somehow I doubt that.
Avery walks in, her gaze zeroing in on me. I stand up from where I’d been sitting, waiting for her. I make my way over, as does she, and we meet somewhere in the middle. Reaching out, I brush her cheek with my thumb. She leans into my touch.
“Did you come here for coffee?” she asks.
“No.”
She blinks up at me, face still cradled in my palm. “Why are you here?”
“There’s no staying away from you. Not for me.”
Her lips tug into a shaky, emotional smile.
I hold her gaze, and say, “I have done so many things wrong. I have been stupid, and reckless, and selfish. There will not be a day when I don’t regret what happened in our marriage. I’ve fought my demons and pain and grief, and now I’m fighting for another chance with you.” Her lower lip quivers, and my other hand lifts, thumb gliding across the length. “I won’t stop fighting, unless you ask me to. And I pray you don’t.” My throat thickens. “You are the hill I want to die on.”
She whimpers. It’s only a tiny little moan, but it speaks volumes. She’s going to allow this.
Me.
Us.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, pushing herself up on tiptoe.
I do better than that. I grip her backside in my palms, and lift her onto me. She wraps her legs around my waist.
We stare at each other in the half-light. I hold her with one arm, and press a hand to the nape of her neck.
She places her palms on either side of my face, the tip of her nose pressing to mine.
“Come here, baby.” The nickname returns without fanfare. Almost like it was always present, waiting at the tip of my tongue.
Avery’s lips meet mine. We kiss softly. Slowly. Savoring something that is old, and new.
The most precious thing.
My tongue swipes over her lips, and she opens. She tastes sweet, like candy.
“Take me home,” she whispers against me.
“To your place?” I clarify. My parents' house is empty, but I would much rather be in Avery’s bed.
“Sure,” she answers, in a way that makes me think she might not consider it only her place for much longer.
We take Avery’s car, leaving Joel’s delivery truck where I parked it down the street from Gem. I drive. Avery touches me the entire five minutes we’re in the car. Hands in my hair, nails grazing my forearm. I take the turn into her parking spot a little too quickly, and glass in the trunk clinks together.
“Candy jars,” Avery explains. She’s out of the car and walking to her front door, and I’m jogging to catch up.
“Where’s the fire?” I joke, nipping at her neck while she unlocks the front door.
She turns around, winding a hand into my hair. “In here…” She taps two fingers over her heart. “Are you going to save me again?”
I gently push her back against the door. It swings open and we fumble our way in. “How about I sit in the fire alongside you, and we let it smolder for the rest of our days?”
“Fire.” She kisses me. “Smolder.” Another kiss. “Let it burn.”
I laugh against her lips. She’s already unbuttoning the front of her dress.
There aren’t any more jokes after that.
There is touching, and loving, and kisses that taste like apologies. We hold each other close, and our eye contact says it all for us.
After, when Avery is lying over my chest, I tell her, “I don’t love you the way I used to.”
She lifts her head, her gaze curious. “Explain.”
“It’s tangible now.” My hand caresses her bare back. “Something I can hold in my palm. Love feels different after you fight for it.”
She places a kiss on my chest, right over my heart. “I love you, Gabriel.”
God, how I’ve wanted this. Her . I wasn’t sure I’d ever have it again. A profound and overwhelming sense of gratefulness fills me. “You are my beginning, and my end.”
She looks up again, her fingertips tracing my jawline. “Your poetry skills are much better than questionable.”
I’m about to ask how she figured it out, but she’s kissing me again, and now I’m rolling her over again, and the question disappears into a tangle of limbs.
This, right here, is what life’s all about. Loving beyond measure.
Growing and listening and adapting.
Together.