63. Chapter 63
Chapter sixty-three
Gabe
T he minute Abbie and I enter the elevator, I punch in the lobby level and then drag her to me, my hand at the back of her head. “How’s this for talking?” I ask a moment before my mouth closes down on hers, my tongue licking past her lips, drinking her in, tasting her.
She pushes against my chest, moans, sinks into the kiss, but ultimately, when we reach the lobby and our lips part, she doesn’t mince words. “That’s not talking. That’s deflection. We need to talk. Really talk.”
“We did talk, baby. We just spoke volumes by kissing instead of yelling.”
“Talk, Gabe. Real conversation.”
“I’m all about real with you, Abbie,” I say, which is true. What I say to her is real. I just don’t say all there is to say. “And we’ll talk. At my place.”
“Yes,” she says, offering that confirmation. “At your place.”
The doors open and I lace the fingers of one of her hands with mine, leading her into the hallway and outside to our hired car. She slides into the backseat, and I follow, sealing us inside without missing a beat. My hand comes down on her leg and I drag her close. She doesn’t push me away. Her hand comes down on my hand, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “Gabe,” she whispers.
“Just to be clear. Are we fighting?”
Her hand settles on my cheek. “Maybe. We can decide when we get to your apartment.”
I laugh. She laughs. There is a warm intimacy between us, but it doesn’t erase the fact that she wants to have that “alone” talk. That she wants answers to questions I can only assume were created by being around my family. I kiss her hand, settling it on my leg, my hand covering hers now. She’s still going to hit me on the conversations she overheard tonight between me and Reid. She’s still going to want answers I’m not eager to offer but after the past few hours, I’m of the mind that I can’t keep as much of me to myself as I’d planned with Abbie. Not if I want her in my life. The question is, how much is too much of me, this soon, for Abbie?
A few minutes later, we pull up to my apartment, and it’s not as simple as taking her upstairs and just fucking her until she forgets why she wants because one: she’s Abbie. I want more than that with her. And two: Dexter needs to pee and eat. The damn dog who greets us with ridiculous happiness and kisses. “You’re blowing your serial killer reputation, bud,” I say, as I squat down to give him some love. “Seriously, man. You need to keep the story going.” I stand up to Abbie’s assuming stare.
“You and Dexter,” she says. “Two men with more to you than meets the eye. Is that what drew you to him?”
“I do believe you’ve hit the nail on the head,” I say, because no matter how silly the moment, there’s an element of honesty there but I still finish off with a wink and a compliment. “You mad genius you.”
Dexter barks his agreement or maybe he just really needs to pee like a Russian Race Horse. “Yes, killer,” I say. “We’re going out.” I wink at Abbie and motion to the door. “Walk with us?”
“Of course,” she says, warmth in her eyes that tells a story. She likes that I was honest. She needs honesty in her life. I want to be honest with her. I have to be honest with her. In every possible way I can be without losing her in the process.
After a quick change to casual clothes, with Dexter’s supervision of course, we head out. I open the front door and Dexter darts for the hall. “Stop,” I order.
Dexter stops and looks back at me, impatience in his gaze. “Ladies first,” I tell him “Sit and wait.” Dexter proves he’s had some training because he does as he’s told; he sits and waits.
Abbie laughs. “Impressively submissive for a serial killer.” She heads into the hallway and turns to eye us both. “Come to me, you handsome man, you.”
“Me or Dexter?” I ask.
“Both of you. Come to me, you handsome men, you.”
Dexter looks up at me and whines, showing great restraint considering he wants to hurry to Abbie’s side, and with good reason. She’s fucking beautiful, all that red hair wild and free right now. Her smile touching her eyes, lighting her heart-shaped face. “Go, boy,” I say.
Dexter barks his approval again and rushes toward Abbie. She kneels and greets him and he rewards her with sloppy doggy kisses. The only woman I’d kiss after a dog. I’m pretty sure that means I’m right again. I’m falling in love. I exit to join them and help Abbie to her feet, pulling her to me, her body aligned with mine, nice and tight. “Did I ever tell you that I don’t like redheads?”
She laughs. “What are you talking about?”
“Just what I said. I’m not a guy who goes for redheads. Except you, Abbie,” I say, and my joking moment has gotten all hot and serious, my voice lowering as I add, “You’re really fucking beautiful. Too beautiful for my own good.”
“But you don’t like redheads?”
“Nope. Never. I’m a changed man now, though, and that’s all about you.”
“Gabe,” she whispers, her eyes going all soft and willing while I go all hot and hard.
Dexter whines and Abbie tugs my arm. “He needs to go out.”
“Yes, the little beast needs to go out.”
I kiss her and we hurry toward the elevator. A few minutes later we’re at the park a block away and Dexter is sniffing everything in sight. Abbie and I stand together and watch him. “I should probably hire a permanent dog walker to come in twice a day.”
“From rescue to spoiled king,” Abbie says. “I love it.” She turns to face me. “Gabe, I really do love so much about you.” Her fingers curl on my chest. “But I need to know the man I’m falling for really is the man I think he is.”
“I am. I’m me. I’m just me.”
“I heard enough today at your sister’s to know that you’re not all jokes and fun. I heard that with your interaction with Kenneth.” I open my mouth to reply but she quiets me with a hand. “Carrie is Reid’s compass. I sensed that in her and him. If you want us to make it, you have to trust me the way he trusts her. Eventually. Not now. I know that, but eventually.”
Eventually is too soon, considering my past but I can’t say that to her. “One day at a time. Okay?”
“As long as those days are honest days, Gabe, I can handle almost anything. Except one thing: lies. I can’t handle lies. If you, this person you are with me, is a lie, tell me. End it now.”
My hand slides under her hair, settling on her neck. “I told you, Abbie, I’m more real with you than I have ever been with anyone.”
“ More real. Not real.”
“Everything I show you, everything we share, is real.”
“The parts you show me, excluding the part of you that you think I’ll hate, of course.”
My expression tightens. “The part of me that I know you’ll hate.”
“The part you believe is your father. That was the talk I wanted to have and this is what I wanted to say to you. You are not your father. I will never see him in you.”
Until she does , I think. “Never make a promise you can’t keep, baby.”