Page 96 of The Beast

She’s right. I know she’s right. I could tell David to send him away, then deal with this tomorrow when I’ve had time to sleep and think and rebuild my defenses.

But the truth is, I need to set some freaking boundaries. To tell him very firmly that today was bullshit.

And if I’m going to do that, I need to at least have the balls to do it in person.

“Let him in,” I say.

David hesitates. “You sure?”

“No. But do it anyway.”

He opens the door, and Gabriel steps inside.

He looks terrible.

That’s my first thought.

He looks even worse than he looked earlier, which shouldn’t be possible.

His dark hair is disheveled and could use a wash, his beard is a mess, and his eyes are red-rimmed like he’s either been crying or rubbing the shit out of them. He’s still wearing the same clothes from the gallery, which makes me wonder if he’s even gone home. Or has he spent pretty much the whole day wandering? Pacing. Maybe punching things?

No matter what the details, I think it’s a safe bet that this man I love—this man who is driving me batshit crazy—has been stewing in his own misery for hours.

His gaze sweeps the room. The way Harper and David stand there like bodyguards. Two wine bottles and a pizza box. Reality TV playing silently on the big TV screen.

All evidence of a night spent trying to forget him.

When his eyes finally land on me, something in his face cracks.

“Izzy—”

“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “You don’t get to ‘Izzy’ me right now. You don’t get to walk in here with those eyes and expect everything to be okay.”

He flinches. Actually flinches as if I’ve struck him.

Good.

No, not good. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him to understand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The words are rough, scraped raw. “I know that’s not enough. I know I keep saying it, and then I keep fucking up.” He shakes his head. “And I did it again. I saw David leaning toward you, and I didn’t think. I just reacted. Like a goddamn animal.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He looks across the room. “For what it’s worth, David, I’m sorry.”

David looks utterly befuddled, but he tilts his head in acknowledgment as Gabe turns his attention back to me. “I know you weren’t doing anything with him. I know David is your friend. I know—” He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache. “I know all of that. But when I walked in and saw you together, all I could think was that I was losing you. That you’d finally realized I’m too broken, too fucked up, too much work. That you were already moving on.”

“So your solution was to prove me right? To storm in and act like a possessive asshole, confirming every fear I might have about whether you can actually handle being in a relationship?”

Another flinch. But he doesn’t look away.

“Yeah. Pretty much. I told you—I didn’t think. I just reacted.”

“That’s the problem.” I stand up, needing to be on my feet for this, needing to not feel so small. “You keep reacting. You keep letting whatever’s broken inside you take the wheel, and then you apologize afterward like that makes it okay. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t make it okay.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because this isn’t the first time. You did the same thing when you first came back—decided I was guilty without ever giving me a chance to defend myself. So how many times is this going to happen? How many times am I going to forgive you, only to get blindsided by the next explosion?”