Chapter 67
Gabriella
Vic is quiet again. He was quiet the entire way back to Sheila’s.
He ended staying a while after we all left D’s room.
He, D, and the doc had about an hour-long conversation while I waited in the lobby.
When we reached the truck, I asked about what was said, but he told me he’d tell me when we got back to Sheila’s.
Now we sit at the end of the bed in Sheila’s guest room in silence. That canyon between us is back and growing wider, fast. I don’t know what changed from this morning to now. The silence is driving me crazy, “Vic.”
“I want to stay and take care of D.” Vic’s voice is flat and low, void of emotion. My stomach just dropped, like I was on a roller coaster.
“Wait. What?” I heard him, I’m just not processing.
“Gabbs, I told D and the doc that I would talk to you about staying and taking care of him.” There’s a little more emotion in his voice, but he’s guarded.
“For how long? I think I can handle a few weeks. I can push some of the court dates, I have a bunch of vacation time saved since…”
“No.” Vic’s quiet interruption stops me short.
“What?” A stinging sensation travels through my nose, and my chest constricts. “I’m gonna need more information, Vic.”
Vic lets out a deep sigh and turns to me, grabbing my hands in his. “Gabriella, I think I should stay here by myself. I think I need a little bit of time. I’d like to stay and help my brother get back on his feet.”
I leave my hands in his, even though I want to pull them back and wrap my arms around myself.
No retreating, Gabbi. Hear him out. “Okaay.” It comes out slow and drawn out.
“Can you explain this to me, baby? I’m getting a little panicky here.
” We’ve come this far, and the idea of him wanting to separate from me has me in a tailspin.
“Gabbi…” Vic takes a breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they’re glassy and full of sadness. “I just need some time. I love you so much, and I want to be with you so badly. You are my home, but...” His breath comes out shaky, and he closes his eyes again.
“How long do you need, Vic?” My voice trembles as my shoulders sink in defeat.
“Gabbi…”
“Victor.” I keep my voice calm, but all I want to do is throw a goddamn tantrum. “How long are you planning on staying here, away from your family? Away from me?” At this point, I think he knows me well enough to hear the concern saturating my words.
“Eight weeks. Minimum.” He speaks low, but maintains my eye contact, which means he has to notice how wide my eyes actually got when he said he’ll be here, away from me, for two fucking months, at least.
“Eight weeks, Vic? Why? There are three of you who could split the time. I know that Emma and Ty would help, so would Wolf and Sabrina. You want to volunteer for eight weeks all on your own, baby?” The fat tears clinging to my eyes start to spill over.
“Just talk to me, Vic. Please, help me understand.”
He stands, dropping my hands, and turns away from me, shoving his hands through his hair. “I hurt you.” It comes out so soft that I’m not sure I heard him correctly.
Standing and placing my hand on his shoulder, I ask, “What?”
I retract my hand quickly when he spins around. “I fucking hurt you.” Vic’s voice is a low growl as he drops his hands from his hair. What the hell is he talking about?
“Vic, what are you talking about?” He steps up to me at my question.
Without another word, he reaches for the hem of my shirt, a plea flashing in his eyes, to trust him.
I raise my hands and let him remove my shirt.
Then he reaches for the button on my jeans, popping it and pulling the zipper down while keeping his eyes on mine.
When he pulls my jeans off, I’m standing in front of him in my bra and panties. Vic rises to his full height, towering over me. All I can see is love in his eyes, so why is he doing this?
Vic’s hands slide to my hips, and he turns me around, walking me forward a few steps to face our reflection in the mirror.
My eyes fall to his hands as he moves them across my stomach.
He turns me to the right slightly, ghosting his fingers over my hips, but he’s not just touching me.
He’s showing me. Showing me the deep purple marks on my hips and lower back.
He runs his hand down my leg to point out the bruising on my thigh toward my knee.
When he’s done on one side, he turns me to the other and shows me the matching bruises on my other hip and leg.
“Vic,” his name floats out on a breath. I want to explain that they don’t hurt, that it wasn’t his fault, that we got carried away, that I like his marks on me, but I can see the pain and disappointment in his eyes.
I realize at this exact moment that there isn’t a single thing I can say that will change his mind.
All he sees are the marks he put on me, and all he hears are Cookie’s words.
I feel like I’m losing him, and I have no idea how to stop it.
I turn in his arms, wrap myself around him, and whisper in his ear the only thing I can think to say, “Take your eight weeks, baby. Do what you need to do, work out what you need to work out. Help D. But you listen to me…” I pull back, looking straight into his eyes, my hands cupping either side of his face.
“I won’t lose you, Vic. Not again.” Then I do the only thing I can do.
Ripping my own heart out, I kiss him on the lips, pull my clothes back on, and help him plan out the next eight weeks, without me.
“Hey girlie,” Emma’s voice is soft as she rubs my leg, waking me. It’s only a four-hour flight, but I took a few sleeping pills when we got on and basically cried myself to sleep in the first hour on the plane. “We’re getting ready to land. They asked us to put up our seats.”
I start to move, my body a little stiff from trying to sleep in the fetal position in an economy class airplane seat.
When I finally sit up and get myself situated for the landing, I release a sigh and look over at Emma.
The look on her face feels like pity. “Oh, honey.” She reaches up and tucks some strands of my hair behind my ear.
I must look as bad as I feel. It’s then that I realize the look on her face is compassion and possibly a little sadness.
It isn’t until I pull my phone from my bag and flip the camera that I see what I actually look like.
My eyes are red and puffy, matching my lips.
I hate that my mouth swells whenever I cry for a prolonged period of time.
“I know Ems.” The tears return, welling in my eyes.
“I’m a mess. My heart is shattered, my head is pounding, and I’m pretty sure if I had food in my stomach, I’d ralph all over this plane.
I mean, look at me, I look like I did one of those stupid lip suction challenges on TikTok for god’s sake. ”
“I know, sweetie.” Emma grabs my hands in hers.
“It’ll be okay. He just needs some time.
” My eyes involuntarily roll. “I know that’s a bullshit answer, G, and completely unfair to you, but Cookie’s situation messed with his head.
He just needs some time to unfuck himself.
” I know Emma means well, and she has a point, but it’s like her words just struck a match and lit my fury on fire.
“What about me, Em?” The people sitting in the surrounding seats turn to look at us.
Oops, I said that a little louder than is socially acceptable.
“What about me, huh?” I speak in a hushed yell, moving my face closer to hers.
“After all we’ve been through, and this is his fucking answer? ” My head drops into my hands.
Emma’s hands rub circles on my back, helping to soothe the pain and release some of the tension. “I just don’t know what to do, Ems. I just feel like I’m losing him all over again. I can’t lose him.”