Chapter 70
Gabriella
Another week has passed without Vic, and it still sucks. We’ve spoken over the phone a few times this week. I’m not sure how conversations that used to come so easily now feel like we’re talking in broken code. A bunch of words strung together, but neither of us is really saying anything.
Two days ago, Vic FaceTimed me. Both of us said hello, then we just sat there staring at each other without saying anything.
I think we lasted about five minutes before neither of us could take it anymore.
Katrina tells me she’ll support whatever decision I make, but that I can’t keep going the way I’m going.
Ty and Emma tell me that Vic is miserable, but for some reason, still won’t come home.
Vic is supposed to stay with D for another four weeks, which would be doable if it weren’t for his reasoning behind staying so long or the awkwardness that’s crept into our relationship during this damn separation.
I’m so over feeling helpless. Over sitting around and sulking. Since Ty and Emma flew out this morning to visit D, I think I’ll do something productive to keep my thoughts from consuming me. Maybe some purging would do me some good.
The spare bedroom that Ty and Emma let us use for storage is full of junk: decorations, old clothes, books, and every other thing that families keep over the years.
I’m not even sure why we moved half of this stuff in here in the first place.
We should have Marie Kondo’d the shit out of this when we were moving things after the fire.
Today, I’m tackling that hoarder’s dream nest.
Grabbing a giant box of old high school memorabilia from the floor, my finger snags on some cloth.
I set the box aside to see what the cloth is, and my heart bangs against my chest, but a smile spreads across my face when I see it’s Vic’s old football jersey.
He wasn’t some football god or anything, but I remember how amazing it was to watch him on the field.
I also remember his reaction to the first time I wore this jersey to school.
A warm flush breaks out across my skin at the memory of Vic turning feral when he first saw his number and name sprawled across my back.
Throwing the jersey haphazardly into the top of the box, I continue taking the box downstairs and drop it on the floor, near the front door. I think I’ve made a little dent in the room, time for a little coffee break.
I close my eyes and take a deep inhale of the warm, nutty aroma. Mmm. Dear god, I fucking love coffee. Something about when you take that first sip.
The joy of my little coffee break is cut short when I hear the front door open.
“Hello?” I call out. Did I leave the door unlocked?
There’s no answer, but it sounds like rustling of the boxes I’ve brought down, so I move toward the front door. I nearly drop my coffee when I see him standing there.
“Vic?” His name comes out on a breath. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, his duffle bag on the floor next to his feet, door wide open, and his high school football jersey in his hand. When his eyes meet mine, he looks tortured. What the hell?
“Vic,” I say his name again to see if he’ll snap out of this stare.
After a few more seconds, he blinks and looks away, dropping the hand with the jersey in it to the side. “I’m too late.”
“What?” What does he mean too late?
“Katrina told me…I just didn’t get here soon enough.” It looks like he’s talking to himself.
“Vic, what are you talking about? You’re not making any sense?” I set my coffee cup down on the hall table and take a few steps toward him.
He scrunches the jersey up in his hands and finally shoots his eyes back to mine.
The icy blues look so much bluer than I had been picturing in my mind over the last few weeks.
“I’m not letting you.” Vic drops the jersey on the closest box and reaches for his back pocket, retrieving a crinkled envelope.
“Do you know what this is?” His voice is deep and thick. I focus on the envelope, eyes widening as I recognize the parchment in his hand. I nod in response.
“The letter I wrote about you when Ty and Emma had us do that exercise, telling a stranger about who you are in my eyes.” I forgot I put that in his bag of clothes I sent to him after he decided to stay with D.
“Do you remember what it says?” His tone is calm, but his body is tense. I start to nod, but stop, realizing I’m not totally sure what I put in there since I wrote it months ago.
“Let me give you the highlights.” Vic approaches me slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. I’m not scared, but back up with each step anyway. I think it’s more to have something to hold me up since my body hasn’t stopped vibrating from the moment I saw him.
Vic reaches me and places his hand on the wall by my hip.
Though he’s not touching me, I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
With his other hand, Vic lifts the letter in the air so it’s eye level.
“My husband is a wounded man with an enormous heart, whose scars do not define him.” He memorized it?
I’m stunned by his first words, my first words.
“He is fiercely loyal and a protector, down to his DNA.” Vic leans into me at this next line and plants a soft kiss on my collarbone. My belly lights with fire at the contact.
Vic skims his nose up the side of my throat, “He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and sees himself as a monster for decisions he’s been forced to make.” A shiver rolls through my body, causing goosebumps to rise.
Moving his mouth to hover above mine, he speaks again, “My husband is a guardian who has walked through hell, emerging with a residue of demons clinging to his back.” He places a soft kiss on my lips and pulls back, raising his eyes to mine.
“Above all, my husband is a warrior king who will eternally fight to protect his brothers, his daughters, and me, his queen.” His last words hit hard, ripping tears from my eyes. I can feel Vic’s thumb wipe one of them away, and I can’t help the sob that releases from my chest.
Vic speaks softly, “Gabriella, I know I fucked up. I know I got scared and instead of leaning into us, I fell back to my old way of doing it all on my own, and that’s not who we are.
It’s not who we’ve ever been. Your letter made me remember that.
” He leans his forehead against mine and presses a chaste kiss against my lips.
“Please forgive me, baby. Please.” I start to nod, but stop at his next words. “Don’t make me leave Gabbi, please.”
“What?” I’m confused.
“The boxes,” Vic and I both swing our heads toward the large boxes by the front door, “you’re clearing out my things.” I shift my eyes back to his and scan his face. Oh my god, he thought I was moving him out.
“What? No Vic. No,” I slide my hand up against his face, cupping his jaw, “Baby, I was just cleaning out the spare bedroom.” His eyes widen, “I was taking the boxes to storage.”
All the tension leaves Vic’s body in one breath. He sinks into me, his arms wrapping around me, and swallowing me in a hug I’ve waited four damn weeks for.
“Thank god. I don’t want to do this life without you, Gabbs.” Aaand there I go crying again. Vic pulls back and looks at my face, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still scared.” I nod in response. “So, I need you to do something for me, Rockstar.”
“Anything,” I whisper. That response must do something because I see the corner of his mouth rise.
“Green, yellow, red.” When I scrunch my forehead in response, he elaborates. “The same communication system we’ve been using, I need us to keep using it. Conversations, arguments, sex, all of it. Does that make sense?” I nod.
“I need us to keep up full communication and brutal honesty. If something is hurting you, my words, my actions, my hands,” Vic looks down in shame, but shakes his head once and reconnects with my eyes.
“Can you do that for me, Rockstar?” I nod, and he lets out a sigh, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.
“Good girl.” A smile breaks free from both of us.
Vic leans in, taking my mouth with his, and my entire body ignites.
He slides his hand up my belly, over my breast, landing on my throat.
With his mouth owning mine, he applies slight pressure to my throat, and my body starts to shake with the feeling of being owned by this man.
When his hands start to tighten a bit more, Vic pulls away, leaving both of us panting.
His eyes volley between mine when he asks, “Color, baby? I need a color.”
Through heavy breaths, I smile a wicked grin, “So fucking green.”
Vic’s smile mirrors mine right before his lips crash back to me, and he proceeds to own me, body, mind, and soul, right there in the front hallway, like a warrior king should.