Page 97 of The Beast

He’s silent for a long moment. Harper and David are silent too as they watch this play out, not interfering but very clearly ready if they need to.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel finally says. And the honesty in his voice, the raw, bleeding honesty, makes something twist in my chest. “I want to tell you it won’t happen again. I want to promise you I’ll be better. But I’ve made those promises before, and I’ve broken them. So, I don’t know what to say that you’d actually believe.”

“Then don’t say anything.” I move closer to him, stopping just out of arm’s reach. Close enough to see the details I missed before—the redness around his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands are trembling slightly at his sides. “Show me. Show me you’re willing to actually deal with your shit instead of just apologizing for it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Therapy? Support groups? Hell, even talking to Travis or Leo or literally anyone who might be able to help you figure out why you keep self-destructing?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “I can’t be your only lifeline. I can’t be the only person standing between you and your worst impulses.”

The words land hard. I watch them hit, watch him absorb them, watch something shift in his expression.

“You’re right,” he says quietly.

I cross my arms, wanting to hug him, but needing to stand firm. “I know I’m right. The question is whether you’re going to do anything about it.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Behind me, I hear Harper move to sit on the couch, and David shift his weight from one foot to the other. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.

“I will,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Dammit, I will.”

I feel a squeeze around my heart. “Good. Because I love you. But I can’t keep being the collateral damage when your demons take over.”

“Izzy—”

“Bella.” The correction comes out hard. Maybe too hard. But I’m too tired to soften it. “Izzy was something a man I used to know called me.” I look up at him, hoping he can see the love in my eyes. “I’m hoping to find him again someday.”

Something breaks in his expression, and he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I hope so, too.”

He starts to turn away, and without thinking, I reach out and grab his sleeve.

“Stay.” The word surprises me as much as him. And God only knows what David and Harper think about it. “Just for a glass of wine. Just to hang with us for a bit.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not sure about anything right now,” I admit. “But I know I don’t want you to leave. Not like this. Not with everything still broken between us.”

He nods. Slowly. Like he’s not sure he deserves the reprieve, but he’s going to take it anyway. “If it’s okay with…” He trails off.

David, to his credit, is already pouring another glass of wine. He crosses to Gabriel and holds it out—a peace offering. Or maybe a test.

“I’m not entirely convinced you’re not going to punch me at some point,” David says, “but so long as it’s not tonight, you should join us.”

I seriously want to kiss him. But under the circumstances, that would probably be a mistake.

Gabriel takes the glass. “I’m not going to punch you. And I’m sorry for earlier. For the whole caveman routine. I was an ass.

David surprises me by nodding. “Apology accepted. This time. But don’t pull that shit again.”

“I know.” Gabriel almost smiles. “You’ll have Harper hold me down while you give me a strongly-worded lecture.”

“I was thinking more like I’d let Harper handle the whole thing. She’s scarier than me.”

“True,” Harper says from the couch. She hasn’t moved, but some of the defensive tension has left her shoulders. “Come sit down. All of you. I switched the channel over to watch Friends, and I think something’s going to go completely awry in this episode.”

We settle back onto the sofa—me in my corner, Gabriel beside me with a careful few inches of space between us, and Harper curled up in the other corner. David settles into the armchair. The wine gets passed around. We laugh at the antics and the monkey on the screen. And when Harper says she’s craving cookies, Gabriel gets up to get them without even being asked. It’s a small thing. A tiny thing. But it feels right.

Around eleven, Harper stands and stretches. “I should go. Early meeting tomorrow.” She leans down to kiss my cheek. “Call me in the morning. And you,” she points at Gabriel. “Don’t make me regret giving you another chance.”

“I’ll try not to.”