Page 82 of Healed

“You know what happened. Sam was dealt with,” I said, throwing the rest of my pint back and swallowing loudly.

“Is he…?”

“Dead? Yes,” I nodded, though she couldn’t see me properly.

Gabriella sighed heavily. “Good. That’s good. Nico relied on him a lot. He’s lost one of his henchmen now.”

“Yep.”

I eyed her as she walked closer to me, both dreading and craving having her so near.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her small hand reaching out for me.

I pulled back before I could stop myself, and her head reared back in shock.

“Luke…?”

My heart wrenched at the agonised way she said my name. My real name. The name only she called me.

“Don’t touch me, Gabby.”

I couldn’t. I couldn’t have her hands on me. It’d fucking break me.

I didn’t deserve her kindness right now. I didn’t deserve her softness, her warmth. I deserved nothing from her.

I was a monster. Just like Nico.

I’d hurt her just as much as he had.

“I only wanted to comfort you, Luke. It wasn’t supposed to be a—”

“To be a what? Hmm?”

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, Gabriella. You think I don’t know your every fucking thought before you do?” I laughed, though it was hollow and empty.

“Luke—”

“You’re in here,” I said, jabbing at my temples. “I know what every fucking thing you say means. I know every tilt of your voice, every mannerism, every sigh, laugh, cry. I know fucking everything, and what they stand for. I know it fucking all, even when you’re not sure yourself.”

She swallowed again, and I continued, striding over to her and standing close, looking down at her wide eyes. “It doesn’t matter what your intention was. Your touch is your touch. Yours, Gabriella. And I can’t fucking handle it. Any of it. Not right now.”

How could I? How could I let her touch me and live with the guilt?

It had only been a few days ago that I’d had sex with her in this very clubhouse, all the while completely unaware that she was suffering. Completely blind to all of what she was going through.

I’d fucked her and let her leave. Not once had I seen bruises on her. Not once had I questioned why she was so timid. I’d assumed.

I’d made nothing but assumptions, and each and every one of them had been fucking wrong.

How could I let her touch me now, believing I was some sort of saviour for killing Sam, when I had been the one feeding her to the wolves?

I should have ripped her out of there as soon as Nico arrived. I shouldn’t have listened to her protests. I should have fucking done more!

Because at the end of the day, she’d stayed to save her mum. But where had that got her? Ten years later, her mum was dead anyway, and she was the one surviving the aftermath.

“Luke,” she breathed, ignoring me completely. She closed the last few inches, her head tipping back to look up at me, and her hands grasped at my forearms.