Chapter 24 #2
Once we’re alone, Gabriel gets up from the floor and claims the spot on the sofa beside me.
His fingers flex along his thigh and he drums his fingers across his leg.
The bleeding has stopped, but his hand has to hurt.
I consider taking his hand and cleaning it.
Julio left the first aid kit behind when he left.
But then Gabriel makes a fist and says, “I know about Holt, Benson, and Chambers.”
It’s like the ground is torn out from under me.
“I know they hurt you this summer. That you went to the school board. And that PacNorth did nothing about it.”
My bottom lip quivers. He doesn’t look at me as he unearths my secrets.
As he flays me open to bleed out on the floor.
He knows. I sniff and stare off at an empty spot on the wall, fighting back my tears.
He isn’t supposed to know. Not all the awful details surrounding it.
It’s bad enough he suspected. Worse that he’s who found me on the locker room floor. God. What must he think of me?
“How?” I choke on my words and Gabriel hangs his head, still refusing to look at me. It’s like a knife to my chest.
“We asked around. Felix talked to your old roommate— “
“Joelle?”
He nods.
I can’t sit. Shoving to my feet, I move to stand beside the window.
Pressing my fingers to the cold glass, I look at him through its reflection, unsure what to say.
He crossed so many lines. All of them, in fact.
And for what? To assuage some morbid curiosity?
“Why?” I need an answer. What was so important that he’d betray me like this?
Gabriel looks up. “I needed to know.” His stricken gaze meets mine in the glass and I almost choose to bite my tongue. But I can’t. Not about this. This is my business. Mine. Not his. I don’t care if he needs to know. He hasn't earned that right.
I whirl on him, making my head spin. “Why?” His answer isn’t good enough. Everything was fine before. But this — I replay Austin’s warnings. This changes everything. It’s not fair. Everything I care about keeps getting taken from me.
“I needed to do something. To help— “
“You were helping. Don’t you see that?” I throw my arm out. “This,” I tell him, “Being here. Spending time with you. That’s how you help. You gave me comfort and security. A safe space where I could find myself again.”
His eyes soften. I know he cares about me. He treats me like a princess. Cared for. Cherished. Which is why I feel like the biggest bitch when I say, “And then you took it away.”
Eyes flooding with panic, he closes the distance between us. “No.” He furiously shakes his head. “That’s not what I wanted to do.” His eyes plead with me to understand. To see things his way. But I can’t. “Holt and Chambers and Benson, they can’t get away with what they did to you.”
“They already did,” I remind him. “You can’t change what’s already done.
Promise you’ll stay out of this.” What I don’t say is that he’ll only make things worse if he doesn’t.
I don’t want to hurt him, and being the reason I’m hurt will do exactly that.
But this isn’t only about me. Maybe if it was, I’d stand in the line of fire.
But Austin will ruin my family. He won’t settle for just ruining me.
I won't go up against him when I already know I’ll lose.
“If I can’t?” He reaches for me and I step away. Hurt flashes across his face.
“Then I can’t do this.”
Nostrils flaring, he fists his hands at his side, ensuring he doesn’t reach for me again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“This.” I wave at the space between us. “Us.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Standing tall, I look him straight in the eyes. “Yes. I do.”
We stare off against one another, each of us refusing to give so much as an inch of ground. “You’d throw me away? Just like that?” I don’t miss the hurt in his voice.
“I’m not throwing you away.”
“Sure feels like it.”
I shake my head, wishing he understood, but he can’t. He doesn’t know everything. And despite my feelings for him, I don’t trust him enough to tell him.
“Austin has the power to ruin me. To ruin my family.” He’s got to understand that. They’ve been on the team together for at least a year or two. He’d know Austin has money. Know what family he comes from.
“He uses that as a threat because he knows you can just as easily ruin him.”
I want to laugh. “No. I can’t.”
“Don’t you want to at least try?”
I consider his questions before answering. But even in my wildest dreams, I’ve never let myself think of that. “No. I don’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to.” Gabriel is going to believe what he wants, but I’m not lying to him. “Julio said you guys have a friend. Allie?”
He nods.
“She went through something like this?”
Another dip of his head.
“Ask her.” This might backfire on me, but I’m praying it doesn’t. “Ask her what it’s like. How long it follows you around. Ask her how much worse it gets when your darkest secrets and deepest fears go public. When people know what happened and either pity you, or label you a liar and a whore.”
“You’re not a— “
I hold up a hand to stop him. “I know I’m not.
What happened wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it and all of the fault lies with my attackers.
You and I, we know that. But none of it matters.
Everyone will have their own opinions and I’ll have to face them.
I lost my best friends,” I tell him. “I thought we were like you three. Ride or die. Like family. But they both turned their backs on me, and I did nothing wrong.”
He pulls me against his chest. I fight him at first, refusing to accept the comfort he offers, but after a minute or two, exhaustion settles into my limbs and I slump in his embrace.
Minutes later, I wrap my arms around his waist, close my eyes, and take what feels like my first deep breath in hours.
“I’m sorry you have shit taste in friends.”
A choked laugh spills out of me.
“I can help with that. I have excellent taste in friends. And I’ll always have your back. Julio and Felix too.”
Smiling against him, I listen to the steady thrum of his heart.
Gabriel means well and I don't doubt that he and the others would stand beside me, but I don’t want to be in a position where they have to.
“I don’t want another fight with Austin.
” I won’t survive it. I almost didn’t the first go around.
Gabriel says nothing to that. Instead, he rubs circles on my back and peppers kisses along my temple. When my eyes grow heavy, he leads me upstairs and I follow him down the hallway to his room, not once feeling even an ounce of reservation.
His room boasts a black, king-size bed. It takes up most of the room, positioned in the center as the focal point.
To the left, he has a small bookcase. The shelves are double stacked with well worn paperbacks, and there are several pillows on the floor beside it.
Like he curls up on the ground to read instead of lying in bed.
I can almost picture him like that—sprawled out on the floor with a paperback in his hand.
I’d bet he folds his page corners instead of using a bookmark when he comes to a stopping point. The heathen.
My face softens, thinking about him in the room.
It’s sparse, but there are small elements like the picture of him and the others on his nightstand, that highlight the person he is.
I move closer to the image, carefully picking it up.
It’s housed in a wooden frame and painted in primary colors.
Macaroni noodles are glued to its sides. A gift from a child would be my guess.
There’s a threadbare blanket thrown over a chair in the corner. It’s crocheted with a mismatched assortment of yarn and has holes big enough for my hand to fit through, but still, he keeps it. It means something to him even in the condition it’s in.
“Do you want to shower? I have clothes you can—”
Turning to face him, I cut off his words with a kiss. His body responds and he groans against my lips. The sound sends a spear of need straight to my center. Hands gliding up my body, he cradles the base of my head, but makes no move to deepen the kiss.
Tomorrow I’ll have to think about today. About Gabriel and I. About Austin and his threats. But for the rest of today, I can pretend none of it matters. I can pretend things are still better. That I’m okay.
“We can’t—“ Gabriel pulls away, but I follow him, refusing to let the events of today take this moment from me. “Cecilia,” he groans, and the fingers of one hand flex against my hip.
“Please,” I whisper against his lips.
“You’re hurt.”
“Then help me feel better.”