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“Always,” Carrie assures him, giving me a friendly look Gabe latches onto.
“This is Abbie,” he announces.
“Nice to meet you, Abbie,” Carrie says, “And yes to your prior question, I’m Reid’s wife and that’s still so new that it’s crazy to say out loud.”
So new they were literally just married and guilt stabs at me. “I hate you came back from your honeymoon early. I feel like it’s my fault.”
She waves that off. “Nonsense. We were both eager and ready to get home.” She eyes Gabe. “Reid ran to your place to check on Dexter, but you know that. I can’t believe you have a dog.”
“That I blame on Abbie. She and her mother run a shelter and one thing led to another.”
“One thing led to a lot of things,” I say, looking at him. “Not all as good as Dexter.”
“On that note,” Gabe says. “We all need a drink.”
“I made coffee,” Carrie says. “Anyone want to join me?”
“Coffee sounds almost as good as whiskey,” Gabe says. “Coffee with whiskey though, even better.”
Carrie hurries down the hallway with Nikki on her heels and while Gabe and I remove our coats, Gabe leans in close to whisper, “Something tells me it’s going to be a while before I get to kiss you the way I want to kiss you.”
The way I wanthimto kissme, but I also want this nightmare to be over with and with him feeling none of the aftermath. Carrie is Reid’s wife. Reid is well-connected to the people who started all of this: the Maxwell father and Jean Claude. I want to know Carrie’s take on all of this.
Gabe leads me down the hallway to join Carrie in a stunning large box-shaped kitchen with shiny tiles and stainless steel. Carrie settles at the island with a piping-hot cup of coffee, and the pooch at her feet.
Gabe leads me to the pot and the ease at which he opens cabinets and provides coffee supplies for us both tells me that he’s comfortable in his sister’s home. I like this about him, the bond he shares with siblings, that’s enviable, even if it bares open the hole that is family in my life.
“So,” Carrie says, as we join her, sitting across from her. “It sounds like things got interesting while we were traveling.” Her hand covers mine on the island. “How are you?”
My chest pinches. These people, all of Gabe’s people, settle into that open hole, as if they belong there, as if we’re meant to be there.
“Scared,” I admit. “I’m scared. I know I’m supposed to be sad, but I’m not, and I don’t know how I talk to the police and not seem guilty because of that fact.” I hear the lift to my voice, and I feel, oh how I feel, the hysteria that just this easily, with one little question, starts to bubble in my chest.
Gabe’s hand comes down on my arm and I can’t explain how, but he tamps down that hysteria. He calms me. He makes me feel safe. I trust this man when I didn’t think I could trust again and it kills me to know that I’m going to end up burning him because I didn’t walk away while I still could have. Because I was with him when this happened.
“I need some air,” I say, scooting off the seat too quickly and losing my balance, but I find my footing and head toward I don’t know what. I step into a hallway, aimlessly turning to my right.
Thankfully this path leads to a living area framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, as well as a sliding door leading to a balcony. I head for that door and in a rush of movement, I’m outside, cold air rushing over me, but I don’t care. A motion detector trips lights and I hug myself, rushing to a railing with a city view that displays miles of city skyline, the city bursting with life. I imagine all the people down there, bustling about, rushing to and from, living life, the way I just want to get on with living life. I’ve tried. I’ve tried for years but Kenneth was never going to let that happen though. He’s proven that in life and death.
The door opens behind me and I don’t need to turn to know who is with me. I can feel Gabe join me. His energy. His strength. The charge between us that is ever-present. I feel him. I have never felt any man like I do this one. I revel in that sensation. It gives me life. He makes me feel alive. And then he’s there, with me, stepping behind me, ever the gentleman, as hesettles a blanket around my shoulders. “It’s cold out here, baby. There are some warm, private spots in the apartment.”
“I like the cold.” I turn to him. “And the blanket. You’re always taking care of me.”
“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, reading the million layers to my emotions, even when I don’t realize they’re there, between us, owning their own little place, even when I think they don’t.
“I swore I’d take care of myself from now on.”
He grabs the edges of the blanket and walks me to him. “But now you don’t have to take care of yourself. You have me. You don’t fully know that yet, but you will. You will know you have me.”
“I know right now that I have you.”
“Right now,” he repeats. “Meaning soon I’ll be gone.”
“Kenneth will drive you away. You just don’t know it yet.”
“No one, dead or alive, will drive me away,” he replies. “Try to relax. This will be over quickly. I know how Jean Claude and my father work. All of this is too close to them. They’ll make it go away.”
“By pinning it on us?”
