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I scratch my jaw, and cross my arms when I straighten, feeling all kinds of awkward. A buzzing fills my head, mirroring the tingle in my fingertips. And I know if I don’t zap this tension in the bud, I’m going to spiral.
It’s been months since my last all-out panic attack.
I’ve been doing so well.
Why the fuck did Gabe have to answer that call?
Why couldn’t he just leave that box alone?
“When?” he whispers.
Not expecting that, out of all things to say, I lift my gaze and meet his. Gone is the amusement that was there moments ago, erased as if it was never even present. Instead I just find a sort of heavy acceptance that for some reason has some of my anger dimming.
“Little over two years.” I consider clarifying that she might not actually be dead…
But who are we kidding? Is this how it’s going to be the rest of my life, having to explain it over and over and over again…
I mean, I could tell him to just look it up. But who knows what shit he’ll find. Hell, it’s thanks to Mason that even I know better than to look. It’s bad enough I lived it. I don’t need to see it all twisted up and tainted by a bunch of fucking strangers.
“That picture? It’s the last I have of us all. Two weeks later she was…gone.”
Gabe’s eyes shine, making them look more green than blue. “Well, shit.”
Throat tight, all I can do is nod.
“I’m sorry for overstepping. I had no clue.”
I wave him off. “It’s fine. Seriously. Don’t get all weird on me now, just ’cause you know.”
His brows knit.
“I came here to get away from it, okay? It was a fucking mess, and I just…I just need a break. These last two years…” I shake my head, unable to even put words to them.
Understanding gleams from his eyes, and he nods. “Got it.”
I nod back.
Scrubbing his hands on his thighs, he pushes to a stand, and comes to a stand in front of me.
Expecting him to do something weird, like hug me, I stiffen, my eyes going wide.
Instead he just scowls, and reaches up, fiddling with the ends of my hair. “Babe, we really need to do something with this mop.”
I blink.
“Do you trust me?”
“Not really.”
He nods. “Probably for the best. But…lucky for you, when it comes to hair…” He wiggles his fingers, and whispers dramatically, “Magic.”
Brushing past me, he reaches back, smacking my ass.
I jump with a yelp, and whirl around.
“Get your cute tush in the shower first,” he says, winking. “We’re going out and getting motherfucking wasted tonight.”
My eyes bug.
