18. Gabriel
Gabriel
The drive back to Stoneridge is quiet.
Neither of us reaches for the radio.
The truck settles into its familiar rhythm as the miles slip beneath the tires. Beyond the windshield, the Montana hills roll past in dark silhouettes beneath the deepening twilight.
Evie’s hand is wrapped in mine. I glance across at her. She’s watching the dark landscape drift past the window, her cheek resting against the glass. The tears have stopped, but I can still see where they dried against her skin.
Every now and then the corner of her mouth lifts, almost without her noticing, like she’s remembering something.
As we crest the ridge that separates Havenridge from Stoneridge, she speaks.
“Jacob called me family.”
The words come out soft and full of wonder.
I smile. “Took him long enough.”
She lets out a watery laugh. “I thought…”
“What?”
“I thought he was going to tell me to leave.”
My chest tightens. Instead of answering, I lift our joined hands and press a kiss against her knuckles. “He meant every word.”
She blinks quickly and looks back out of the window. “I’ve spent so much of my life waiting for people to decide I wasn’t worth keeping.”
“You’ve got a whole family now, darlin’.”
She looks at me and smiles—a real smile this time. “I know.”
The porch light is already on when I pull into the yard.
The truck hasn’t even stopped rolling before I spot Maggie. She’s sitting in her favorite rocking chair on the porch with a basket of green beans in her lap, snapping the ends off one by one with the easy rhythm of someone who’s done it her whole life.
She looks up as we climb out of the truck. Her gaze moves from me to Evie to our joined hands.
“Well,” she says, setting the basket aside and standing, “soup’s hot. And there’s fresh bread on the counter.”
She doesn’t ask a single question. No, how did it go? No, what happened? Just… food.
Warmth.
Home.
I see the exact moment it undoes Evie. Her chin trembles, and she ducks her head, trying to hide it.
Maggie notices anyway. She crosses the porch and opens her arms. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Evie hesitates for all of half a second before stepping into the embrace. Maggie wraps her up the way only she can—firm enough to say I’ve got you, gentle enough to say take your time.
Evie’s shoulders start shaking almost immediately. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Maggie strokes a hand over her hair. “What are you apologizing to me for?”
“I just…” The words disappear into another sob.
Maggie simply keeps holding her.
After a long moment, she kisses the top of Evie’s head and says quietly, “Whatever happened over there, you’re home now.”
I lean against the porch post and watch the two women I love most in this world standing in each other’s arms, wondering how a man with a broken heart got so damn lucky.
After we’ve eaten, Evie tugs me into the bedroom by my shirt, her eyes dark with need. The door barely clicks shut before she whispers, “I need you.”
I don’t answer with words; I answer with my hands and mouth.
I pull her close and kiss her like I’ve been starving for the taste of her all day.
Slow at first, then deeper, tongues sliding, breaths mingling.
She melts against me with a soft, desperate sound that goes straight to my cock.
My hands roam down her back, over the curve of her ass, then slide up under her shirt to feel warm, bare skin.
“Gabe,” she breathes between kisses, already tugging at the hem of my shirt. “I need to feel all of you.”
We undress each other between kisses and whispered touches.
Her fingers tremble slightly as she unbuttons my shirt; I steady them with my own before lifting her shirt over her head.
When her bra falls away, I groan at the sight of her fuller breasts, nipples already tight.
I cup them, thumbs circling the sensitive peaks until she arches into my palms with a shaky moan.
I lower her onto the bed and stretch out beside her, careful to keep my weight off her belly.
One of my hands trails down her body—over the soft, rounded swell where our daughter grows, across the flare of her hip, and between her thighs.
She’s soaked. I slide two fingers through her slick folds, teasing her clit in slow circles before easing them inside her.
Evie gasps, hips rolling to meet my hand. “Yes… like that.”
I watch her face as I work her open, curling my fingers against that spot that makes her breath hitch.
Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted, eyes half-lidded with pleasure and lingering emotion.
I kiss her through it—soft kisses on her eyelids, her tear tracks, the corner of her mouth—while my thumb keeps steady pressure on her clit.
When her thighs start to tremble, I shift lower, settling between her legs.
I drape one of her thighs over my shoulder and taste her.
Long, slow licks from her entrance to her clit, then gentle suction that has her fingers tightening in my hair.
She tastes sweet and heady, and I lose myself in her—licking, sucking, fucking her with my tongue until her back arches and she comes with a broken cry of my name.
I stay with her through every pulse, gentling my touch as she rides it out. Only when she starts to relax do I kiss my way back up her body, lingering on the swell of her stomach with soft, reverent presses of my lips.
Evie pulls me up and kisses me deeply, tasting herself on my tongue. “Inside me,” she whispers against my mouth. “I need you inside me.”
I roll to my side and guide her to face me, hooking her top leg over my hip so we’re pressed together without me putting pressure on her belly. The head of my cock nudges her entrance. I look into her eyes as I push forward—inch by slow inch—until I’m buried to the hilt in tight, fluttering heat.
“Fuck, darlin’… you feel so good.” My voice is rough. “So perfect for me.”
We stay like that for a long moment, joined and breathing together. Then I start to move—long, deep rolls of my hips that drag against every sensitive place inside her. Evie’s hand slides up my chest to cup my jaw, her thumb brushing my lower lip as we move together.
“I love you,” I murmur, nipping her thumb. “All of you. The parts you’re afraid of showing the world, the parts that still hope your father might change. I love every piece.”
Tears slip from the corners of her eyes. She kisses me hard, rolling her hips to meet mine. “You make me feel safe. Wanted. Like I belong.”
The words hit me hard. I thrust a little deeper, grinding against her clit with every stroke.
We move together, unhurried—skin sliding against skin, breaths mingling, hands exploring.
I cup her breast, teasing her nipple. She reaches down to where we’re joined, fingers brushing my cock as it moves in and out of her.
The pleasure builds. I feel her tightening around me again, her breaths coming faster.
“That’s it, darlin’,” I murmur against her neck. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
She comes with a soft, shuddering cry, her walls clenching rhythmically around my cock. The feeling pulls me over the edge right after her. I groan her name as I spill deep inside her, pulse after pulse that leaves me shaking.
We stay locked together afterward, foreheads pressed close, breathing the same air. I stroke her back in long, soothing passes, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
Eventually, I ease out of her, both of us breathing hard.
I press a lingering kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed.
In the bathroom, I run a soft washcloth under warm water, wringing it out.
When I return, Evie watches me with heavy-lidded, loving eyes.
I settle beside her again and gently clean between her thighs, careful and tender.
She sighs softly at the warm touch, relaxing under my care.
I kiss the inside of her knee before setting the cloth aside.
Only then do I pull her against my chest, spooning her from behind. My hand splays protectively over her belly as I nuzzle into her hair, inhaling the scent of her skin and the faint trace of my soap from earlier.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I whisper into the quiet. “Not ever. No matter what comes tomorrow, I’m right here. We’re in this together.”
Evie laces her fingers through mine over her stomach. “Together,” she echoes, her voice soft with exhaustion and peace.
We lie like that for a long while, the room quiet except for the sound of our slowing breaths. My palm rests warm and still over the curve of her belly, thumb absently stroking the skin. I’m half-dozing when I feel it.
A small, distinct flutter against my hand. Then another. Stronger.
I go completely still.
Evie lets out a soft, surprised laugh. “There she is,” she whispers. “She’s been moving more the last couple of weeks, but never this strong.”
My throat tightens. I press my hand a little firmer, hardly daring to breathe. Another kick—clear, deliberate, right under my palm. My daughter. Our daughter.
“God, Evie…” My voice cracks. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, eyes burning. “I feel her.”
Evie covers my hand with hers, holding it steady against the movement. “She knows her daddy’s here.”
I swallow hard. My whole chest aches with emotion. I spread my fingers wider, trying to capture every tiny shift and flutter.
“Hey, little one,” I murmur against Evie’s skin. “It’s me. Your dad. I’ve got you both. Always.”
The baby kicks again, almost like she’s answering. Evie’s quiet laughter vibrates through her back into my chest, and I tighten my arm around her, holding my whole world in my arms.
Right now, with Evie warm and sated against me and our daughter making herself known for the first time, everything else—the fear, the revelations, the fight still coming—fades into the background.