Chapter 14 Gabriel
Gabriel
Considering her mood after dinner, giving Sydney a little more time alone seems like a good idea. Three months ago, if she’d gotten that look on her face, I’d have asked her who peed in her Cheerios. That was a lifetime ago.
I work out hard, then shower in the guest bathroom to remove the sweat from my body. It does jack-all for the worry on my mind.
After I’ve thrown some sweats on, I close the library door behind me, then I dial the number for one of the scientists on Dad’s research and development team. The phone rings three times before Rob Sennett picks up.
“Mr. McRae?” His voice holds the gravel of sleep.
I glance at the time on my phone. “Yes. Sorry for the late call. I didn’t think about the difference in time zones.”
He clears his throat and seems to rouse himself. “How is Sydney? Where are you?”
“Awake and recovering. Not in New York. I didn’t get an update from you this week.”
“There’s nothing to tell. No one has contacted either me or Amelia with a job offer. I haven’t remembered anything new. Working without Sydney to reconstruct this is slow going.”
“My only concern is that the lab was a weak spot in our security. The formula she was working on can wait for her to return.” Certain aspects of Sydney’s job maintained a high level of confidentiality, even from her co-workers. She had her own projects for a reason.
“I can do it. I just need time on the project.”
“Don’t. You have your own to concern yourself with.
” She was attempting to develop a sealant that could be applied in seconds to the hands or any body part to create a protective barrier that allowed the wearer to retain the sensation and dexterity of bare hands but offered one thousand times the protection of latex.
The idea was born out of a desire to protect our own team in the field.
If she pulls it off, everyone from surgeons to chefs could use it.
It could even revolutionize barrier birth control.
But Markov taking her research, if it was him, didn’t hurt me.
At best, it was a loss of potential future financial gain for our family.
Even then, there was no guarantee of a payoff.
It was an idea in the beginning stages. Not yet more than my sexy scientist playing with possibilities.
“Do you have any guesses at how Markov found out about the research in the first place or why would he want it?”
“I have no idea, but Sydney does. If you can get her to tell us—”
“She doesn’t remember.”
“She never should have been in charge in the first place.” Bitterness tinges his tone.
“She took lead on this project because it was her idea.” It’s such an obvious answer that my voice drips with incredulity at his stupidity.
“Not the project. Your father gave this entire department to a girl fresh out of college with nothing but a Bachelor of Science degree. Because of you.”
He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either. “She had that lab for years before she and I were a couple. Have you ever considered he hired her because she’s brilliant? She’s saved thousands of lives, and she had that department in the black within two years when profit was never even a goal.”
“Why do you think it’s a good thing for her to constantly step outside the box the way she does?
She treats this place like it’s her personal playground.
She works on the projects she chooses. No one tells her what to do.
Before you married her, I thought she had to be his illegitimate daughter or he was sleeping with her.
Anything she asks for, you or your father give her. ”
I keep my voice controlled, but there’s no hiding the anger in it. “Do you know how many times my wife stepped in to save your job when you pissed off Dad over the years? She told us you couldn’t help being abrasive. You’re not socially awkward. You’re jealous and passive aggressive.”
“I’m not jealous. Amelia could have had that position, and I’d have zero objections.
I’m frustrated that some girl with an engineering degree walked into this place like she owned it and was treated like God’s gift to science.
If anyone else had pulled what she did with those computers, you’d have fired her, and she’d have woken up in the hospital wearing handcuffs.
She cut a deal with Markov to sell you out, and he double-crossed her.
It’s the only thing that makes sense, and you’re letting her get away with it. ”
I don’t care what the evidence points to, it doesn’t fit her temperament or her morality. Someone set her up. “Maybe it was you that cut a deal to get Sydney out of the way.”
He’s silent for long moments, then an incredulous-sounding laugh filters through my phone speaker. “That doesn’t even make sense. You saw the evidence. I understand you want to trust your wife, but sometimes blind faith is just closing your eyes and pretending you didn’t see.”
Ten minutes later, unsettled by my conversation with Rob, I open the door to our bedroom quietly, unwilling to startle Sydney in case she’s in bed for the night. If she’s awake, I half expect her to tell me she’s changed her mind about our sleeping arrangements.
She doesn’t notice me come in. Sitting cross-legged on our bed, a large wide-toothed comb in hand, she works on her knotted hair.
I stand by the door and drink her in, acting exactly like the creep she called me. Now that I know she notices me staring at her, I try to be subtle, but, fuck me, I can’t stop.
I threw myself in front of a bullet for her. I changed my entire life for her. Hit rock bottom and got sober because of her. But I can’t stop watching her.
From her spot on the bed, Sydney struggles to tame her hair. She has a lot of it, thick and wavy, and currently a godawful mess. Her limbs shake with muscle strain as she attempts to keep her arms lifted and comb through a section.
I put my hands in my pockets to prevent myself from swooping in and taking over. If she wants help, she’ll ask for it. She’s told me as much in a hundred different ways over the last week.
The comb catches on a large snarl, and she slumps, cursing with words I’ve never heard her use, all of them aimed at herself.
I step forward, but before I reach her, she stiffens, then hurls the comb across the room with a hoarse wordless scream.
The black plastic hits the bullet-resistant glass of the window, bounces off, and lands harmlessly on the thick hand-knotted silk rug.
It only seems to fan the flames of her rage, and she reaches for the bottle of hair product next, throwing it violently toward the other wall.
It strikes the corner of a table and breaks apart to spill its contents on the floor.
“I’ll pull it out by the roots. I’ll cut it all off. You stupid, ugly cunt,” she screams through already raw vocal cords, then punches her own head, once, twice, then yanks at her hair before I can fully process what she’s doing.
I dive toward her, my hands coming down on her smaller ones, clamping her in place.
“Stop.” When the word has no effect, I tighten my grip and bellow it. “STOP.”
She sobs, yanking and twisting. I wrap her arms around herself, forcing her into passive restraint, making her hug herself like I’m a human straitjacket, folding her against me, and pulling her down to lie on the bed so she doesn’t fall on the hard floor.
She jerks her head back, and her skull bounces against my chest. Her heels make contact with my lower body repeatedly before I manage to scissor my legs around hers and clamp down enough to avoid having the shit kicked out of me.
If she were an opponent, I’d fight back, and she wouldn’t stand a chance. But this is my sunshine, even if she doesn’t look or sound or act like her, and I’d never risk hurting her. So I take the bruises and ride beside her through the storm.
“Shhh. Please. Sydney. Please. I’ve got you.”
The bedroom door slams open and Dave enters, weapon drawn.
“You should’ve . . . let me die,” Sydney sobs.
He lowers his arms when he takes in the scene, his expression morphing from alert determination to sympathy.
Sydney shifts and clocks me in the jaw with the back of her head. I blink and blink again as pain, white-bright and fire-hot, explodes inside my head. I readjust, tussling with her until my vulnerable parts aren’t so exposed.
Dave steps forward. “What can I do?”
“I’ve got her,” I say.
Dave nods, and when Sydney doesn’t acknowledge him, he backs out of the room and closes the door.
I rock her gently and slide my lower jaw to the side, stretching it out. Trying to work through the ache faster.
Her screams die away, leaving pain terrifying in its silence.
“I know it sucks. But you’re so fucking strong. You survived, and you’re going to be okay. It’s going to get better. It won’t always feel like this. Just hold on for me a little longer.”
“I waited. For you,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m sorry.”
“You were too late. I died there. You just don’t know it.”
There’s no air in this room. A thousand of these shallow breaths would never be enough. “You’re alive.” I give her a small shake, and it’s for both of us. To rip the parachute cord and snap us out of free fall.
Dragging her hand up, I press her palm against her chest. “Do you feel that? Your heart is beating. Your lungs are full of oxygen. Your face is wet because you’re capable of crying.
You’re wounded, not dead. When a bone breaks, you have to set it, so it heals straight.
Sometimes, that shit hurts more than the break did.
Believe me, I know. But it’s the first step so it can heal.
You’re setting a broken heart. Right now, the pain feels like it’s killing you.
But it gets better. I swear to God, Sydney, it does, if you can give yourself some grace. ”
She takes a shuddering breath.
“The meds Dr. Granthy prescribed would help,” I say.
“No more drugs.”
“No meds unless you’re willing,” I agree.
“I won’t be.”
“I won’t make you.” Can I keep my promise? If she becomes a danger to herself—if I’m not enough to keep her safe from her own pain—she could end up an involuntary admission. If she does, the doctors would decide what she needs to get stable.
When the cops considered taking her the first time, she’d barely woken up. I believed, and Josh agreed, that sending her away could make things worse. It would have been trying to fight her trauma from imprisonment by locking her up again.
But sometimes, we become so afraid of the cold that we hide inside a house on fire.
“Will you hurt yourself if I let go?” I ask.
“No.” Sydney shakes her head, then whispers, “I need a hug . . . And a sandwich.”
My laugh is wet as fuck and has nothing to do with amusement. “I can take care of that.”
When I relax around her, she turns toward me and burrows against me, pressing her face into my neck as though she wants to become part of me.
I tighten my arms once more. The woman who never trusted me to hold up under the weight of my own burdens is now the wife who needs me to carry us both.
And I will. Until my last heartbeat. Until her last breath. If she needs me to shift the world on its axis, I’ll move heaven and earth by the strength of my love alone.