Chapter 17 #2
“Never told you that she was wearing her mother’s gold ring, too. It gleamed in the lamplight. I think that’s the last thing I saw before I blacked out.”
“Why hold that back?”
Gabriel laughed—harsh, broken. “You’re still a lawman at heart, buddy, and with evidence like that, you might have called in a friend.
But I don’t want the law. I want—” He stopped.
Pressed his palm against the bar, steadying himself.
“I wanted to do it myself. I wanted to be the one who destroyed her.”
“Wanted,” Travis repeated. “And now?”
Gabriel stared at the painting on the wall. At her face, rendered in shadow and longing. At the woman reaching for light she couldn’t touch.
“Now I don’t know what I want.”
“Yeah.” Travis moved to Gabriel’s side, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”
He headed for the door. Paused with his hand on the frame. “You know what I think? I think you’ve been so focused on revenge that you never stopped to ask if you were right.”
“Her eyes,” Gabriel said. “Her ring. Surprise.”
Travis just shrugged. “Someone wanted you dead. Maybe they wanted to set her up, too.”
Gabriel scoffed. “She’s gotten under your skin.”
“She has. And I’m a damn good judge of character. I chose to save you, didn’t I?”
Gabriel flashed an ironic smile. “Not sure that supports your case.”
“It does,” Travis said softly. “All those conversations we’d had before the fire whenever you came into the store?
You’re a good man, Gabe, whether you believe it or not.
Usually level-headed, too. But about her?
She’s your kryptonite, son. You love her too much to see straight.
And you love her enough that if you hurt her, it’s going to kill you when you finally realize you’re wrong. ”
“And if you’re the one who’s wrong?”
“Then I’ll eat my words. But if you find out she didn’t do those things, well, you might just have to remember how to be happy.”
He paused at the threshold and turned back to Gabe. “By the way, ever heard of contact lenses? They come in a variety of colors. And in case you’re wondering, surprise is a pretty common word.”
Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Gabriel sat still for a long time, staring at the painting. At her face. At the eyes—one green, one blue—that had haunted him for five years.
Surprise.
His gut twisted. Had he really gotten it wrong?
He’d been so certain. The eyes. The word. The money. The cabin. Every piece fit together like a puzzle designed to destroy him.
But tonight, standing in front of him, her voice had been different. Raw. Desperate. I still love you, Gabriel. I never stopped.
The same voice that said “surprise” in that low-almost whisper before shooting him?
Or not?
For the first time in five years, Gabriel let himself ask the question he’d been running from—What if it hadn’t been her?
What if it wasn’t a puzzle he’d been trying to put together? What if he’d really been dismantling a trap?
The thought was so terrifying that he had to sit down. If it wasn’t her—if he’d spent years planning revenge against an innocent woman—then everything he’d done, everything he’d become...
He reached for his phone. His hands were still shaking.
He knew a guy. Former FBI, worked private now, owed no one anything. Expensive as hell and mean as a snake, but good. More importantly, honest. He’d find the truth whether Gabriel wanted to hear it or not.
He pulled up the number. Stared at it.
Then he put his phone down.
An investigator wouldn’t solve this. Gabriel knew that.
No one was going to hand him proof on a silver platter.
If there was a bug in his apartment that caught them talking about a surprise party, it was long gone.
If someone had hired that woman to wear contacts and play a part while she joined the team that killed him, the trail was cold by now.
At some point, he was going to have to decide—was he the man who trusted what he saw? Or the man who trusted what he knew—what he’d known for years, before Aspen, before the bullets and the blood and the word surprise echoing in the frozen air?
He’d loved her. God, he’d loved her so much it had terrified him. She was the only person who’d ever made him feel like he could be more. The only one who looked at the darkness in him and didn’t flinch.
Even now, she looked at him tonight the same way she used to. Like he was worth saving. Like she still believed the man she’d loved was buried somewhere under all this scar tissue and rage.
He’s still in there. I have to believe he’s still in there.
Gabriel pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
He didn’t know if that man existed anymore. Didn’t know if he’d ever really existed, or if he’d just been a performance—a version of himself he’d created because she made him want to be better.
But he knew one thing.
He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep destroying her while this doubt gnawed at his gut. He’d kept the doubt pushed back behind thick walls, but she’d been chipping away. Weakening them.
Then Travis had gone into full-on demolition mode. And, dammit, the man was right.
He usually was.
Gabriel couldn’t keep pretending he was certain when everything she said, everything she did, made him wonder if he’d gotten it wrong.
It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t trust. It wasn’t even a decision, not really.
It was just the first step toward finding out if he’d wasted five years hating the wrong person.
And if he had...
Gabriel stared at the painting of the woman he’d loved. The woman he might have destroyed for nothing.
If he had, he didn’t know how he’d ever make it right.
But he was starting to realize he’d have to try.