Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
GABE
As the night wears on, Hallie grows more distant, even in sleep.
The moment she stepped through the front door earlier, I felt it. Something was off . But it wasn’t until I started kissing her that I realized she wasn’t in it. Something happened, I just didn’t know what.
Was it a mistake to keep those three words from her? Should I have told her again that I love her? Hallie has faced her own fears, but I haven’t faced mine.
My sleep is anything but restful. I have horrible dreams that feel sickeningly like some kind of bad omen, warning me I’m on the verge of losing everything I hold close. I haven’t felt fear like that since the night Abbie was in that fire.
Hours later, I wake with a start. Abbie’s safe. She’s with my parents . Hallie’s safe. She’s right beside me . I repeat the words in my head until my heart rate has slowed.
But when I turn over, I find her side of the bed empty. It’s still dark out, and when I check the time, I see that it’s three in the morning. My stomach drops.
Immediately, I’m out of bed. I check my en suite, the guest room, the hallway bathroom. I even check Abbie’s room. When I don’t find her, I fly down the stairs. She isn’t on the main level either. But when I look out the window in the kitchen, I notice the light is on out in the guesthouse.
I grab a hoodie off the hook by the back door and shrug it on, and then I head outside. We haven’t gotten any snow yet, but the temperatures have dipped low enough for frost to coat almost everything. The grass crunches beneath my shoes as I walk across the backyard.
The door swings open silently, and I peer inside, not wanting to startle her.
Hallie is standing in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips.
She’s still wearing the pajamas she went to sleep in, but she’s also wearing her coat.
The heat hasn’t quite kicked in yet, which means she hasn’t been out here long.
“Hallie,” I say gently as I step inside, “what are you doing out here?”
Her shoulders slump. “I’ve decided I don’t like this paint colour after all.”
“That’s fine, baby. We can change it.” I step closer, taking the dry paintbrush from her hand and setting it on the counter. I wrap an arm around her, and she curls into me, her face pressed into my chest. “But is there a reason this couldn’t wait until the sun came up?”
Her hands fist the sides of my hoodie. “Couldn’t sleep,” she mumbles, face still hidden.
“Does this have anything to do with the reason you came home upset?” I ask. When she came back from her errands looking like she had seen a ghost, she hadn’t been ready to talk. Maybe she would be now.
She pulls back a bit and looks up at me. “I told Kevin and everyone the truth today,” she admits. Her voice is quiet, bordering on a whisper.
A lock of hair falls across Hallie’s cheek, and I reach out to tuck it behind her ear. “How did that go?”
Her face crumples. “Not well.”
“What happened?”
Hallie swipes at her cheek, where tears are beginning to make their way down her face. “I said I was sorry for lying and told them that we aren’t actually engaged. Then Dana started making comments about how they should’ve known better, considering who my mom is, and I just…snapped.”
I pull her tighter to me. “Dana had no right to speak to you like that.”
She shrugs. “Maybe she’s right.”
My body goes rigid at her words. Her defeated tone. “She’s not,” I declare.
“Amanda blows through town, leaving wreckage in her wake. Isn’t that exactly what I’ve done? I inserted myself into Kevin’s family, foolishly thinking I could belong. But I never have.”
“Hallie, no. None of that is true. Kevin reached out to you. He wants you there. Now that you’ve cleared the air, I’m sure this will all blow over. I’ll apologize to them, too. You weren’t the only person who lied.”
I’m grasping at straws, trying to get her to see. Trying to stop her from leaving me again. Because I can feel it happening, the crack that’s beginning to form. How many times can you patch over something before the effort won’t matter anymore?
Hallie takes a deep breath and then a step back, pulling out of my embrace, like she’s preparing herself for something.
“Gabe, I’ve been thinking,” she says. “And…I think we should stop.”
My heart splinters. “Stop what ?”
She crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “Stop kidding ourselves. Stop. Just… stop .”
“Are you trying to break up with me right now?”
She opens her mouth, but the words seem to get caught. So she nods instead, then ducks to hide her face.
“No.”
Her head snaps up, her gaze meeting mine. “No?”
“ No .” I take a step closer, eating up that distance she tried to create. “I’m not letting you run away this time. Because you’re right where you belong. You were made for me, Hallie, and I was made for you. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
The fear in her eyes damn near kills me. Even after all this time, she’s afraid of me. Of us.
“How do you know?” She shakes her head. “Because I’ve been trying to fight the voice inside my head that keeps telling me this is too good to be true. That you’re too good to be true.”
I cup her jaw and tip her chin up, forcing her eyes back to me. “Let me be a good thing.”
Another tear slips down her cheek. “I don’t want you to be a good thing because all the good things go away eventually.”
I shake my head. “Not me. Not this.”
“Gabe, please . I can’t.”
My jaw clenches as the hurt settles in. “Do you still not trust me?”
“It’s not you I don’t trust!” she cries, pulling away from me again. “Don’t you get it? It’s me .” She jabs a finger against her chest. “I don’t trust myself because I’ve spent my whole life terrified of turning into her. Of hurting the people I love.”
“That will never be you, baby. Never . You want to know why?” More tears trail down Hallie’s cheeks, and the sight kills me inside.
I wipe them away with my thumbs. “Because the fact that you’re scared right now proves to me that you care.
Your mom isn’t concerned with any of that.
She couldn’t care less about the damage she does to her daughter.
You aren’t her, Foster, and you never will be. ”
I tuck her against my chest, holding her as she sobs. I wish that I had known the extent of her issues with her mom back when we were in high school. When we were kids. Hallie has spent so long dealing with all this on her own, and none of it is fair.
Eventually, her crying lessens. “I’m sorry,” she croaks.
I swallow thickly. “If you really don’t want to be with me—if you got caught up in the fake engagement—then I’ll understand. But if you’re doing this to try and spare me some kind of pain you think you’ll inflict on me, then I don’t accept.”
She chokes on a laugh. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. I’m prepared to keep you, Hallie Foster, for however long you’ll let me.”
“And if I said you could have me forever?”
My forehead drops to hers. “I’d tell you that’s nowhere near long enough, but I’ll take it.”
Hallie closes her eyes for a moment, but when she opens them again, there’s clarity there. “I want to fight with you. Will you fight with me, baby? Because I love you, Gabriel Bowman. I love you , and I want this kind of forever.”
Hearing those words pass her lips is the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard. I dip my head, crushing my mouth to hers. Her lips are salty with her tears.
When we draw apart, my breathing feels ragged. “I’ll fight with you. Until they put me in the ground. Because there is nothing in this world that could stop me from loving you.”
A relieved cry passes her lips, and then I’m on her again.
Hallie unzips her coat and lets it slip from her shoulders. The heater has filled the guesthouse with a haze of warm air, but goosebumps still rise on her arms. I tug the hoodie over my head, tossing it to the floor.
Hand on her waist, I guide her back toward the bed. She lands on the mattress, then pulls me down after her. Our clothes come off, one piece after the other.
I love you, I love you, I love you —a chorus of whispers against lips, against skin.
I want you, I need you —stolen words between kisses.
Hallie’s breath catches when I slip inside her. Her legs wrap around me, holding me there. And when I eventually begin to move, I relish the slow slide of our bodies coming together, over and over again.
After we’re both spent, we lie there, tangled together. We’ll have to move eventually, but not now. Not yet.
“I love you,” she says, unburdened.
“I love you. Forever.”
A little of Hallie is better than none of her. But all of her? That’s everything.