Chapter 46
Gabrielle
The police had turned on every light in the living room while they’d been here investigating. They’d said they needed the light as they searched the scene. As soon as they left, I slowly got up and began turning them all off. Brodie stood in the middle of the room, watching me.
I picked up a small battery operated candle and flipped the switch on the bottom. It gave us enough light to see each other, but dimmed the rest of the room.
“I’m not ready to look at this room in so much light yet,” I admitted.
He sat down on the comfy chair by the window. “We can keep the lights off.”
“For how long?”
“For as long as you want.”
“I don’t want to see the chair Jeff had me tied to or the table he slid across the floor to make room.”
“I’ll get rid of them.”
I nodded, and he stood and picked up the chair and tossed it outside. I think I heard it shatter into pieces. Then he went and picked up the table and took it out, too.
“Better?”
I nodded and reached for the glass of brandy Brodie had given me a few minutes ago. I sipped, letting the warm liquid burn and soothe at the same time.
“You okay?” Brodie asked, sitting across from me.
“Yeah. You?”
“Not exactly.” My eyes met his, and a dangerous burn tore through my soul.
I wanted him to hold me, but he didn’t. He hadn’t really touched me since those first few moments right after Jeff had died when he’d come and untied me, holding me tightly, yet briefly.
“Gabrielle, I hate that that monster was in my house.”
His house? Yeah, technically it was his house, but I’d been living here for three months, and in light of the last four weeks, I’d thought we’d moved beyond what was his and what was mine.
I considered this to be my house, too. Maybe not on paper, but in our minds.
Perhaps it was just a slip out of habit.
He drained the little cordial glass containing the brandy and stood. “It’s been an exhausting night. I’m going to bed.”
Without another word, he went to the front door and made sure it was locked, doing the same to the other two doors in the house, and then took off toward the bedroom.
He was upset, I got that, but couldn’t he have given me a few comforting words at least before retiring, considering what we had just gone through?
I sat in the room alone, thinking about the night and how it had all transpired.
Starting out with the surprise visit from my mom, the way Brodie’d left, the angry expression on his face as he glanced at me before shutting the door.
If he hadn’t left, the episode with Jeff might never have happened.
I’ll admit, I’d wanted him to leave. I didn’t want him subjected to my mother’s cruel and critical remarks that I knew she’d never be able to keep from making—directly or indirectly, at Brodie’s expense.
He’d never have her stamp of approval. The type of man she would pick for me needed to be wealthy, established, and clannish.
To my delight, Brodie didn’t possess any of those persnickety qualities.
I’d never be able to be with someone my mother approved of.
Yes, I’d wanted Brodie to leave but I didn’t realize it would backfire on me.
I picked my sorry self up from the couch and headed toward the bedroom, stopping midway down the hall as I passed the guest room, half thinking maybe I should spend the night in there; nixing that idea as I remembered reading somewhere that couples should never go to bed angry.