Silence fell heavy between them.
She hated that she cared so much that he didn’t like Andrew. On some level, it felt personal because poking at Andrew felt like poking holes in her memory of a friend who’d meant a lot to her.
Without a word, Gabe started the truck. The engine rumbled to life, but he didn’t pull out onto the street yet. He stared straight ahead, jaw working.
“You’re not wrong,” he said after a moment. “I don’t trust easily. And I know it probably seems like I’m suspicious of everybody. But my gut’s kept me alive more than once. Today, it’s throwing up red flags.”
She stared at his profile, the hard line of his throat when he swallowed. Sheknewhe’d been through things—things she couldn’t even imagine—knew his training had carved caution into the marrow of his bones. Part of her even admired that trait.
“I feel like I have to defend Henry.” Her voice sounded too tight. Her skin felt too tight too.
Gabe glanced at her. “Defend what?”
“His judgment. Henry loved Andrew. He took him in when his mother died, made sure he had a home and an education and—and everything. He left himeverything. So if Andrew’s some terrible person, what does that say about Henry’s judgment?” Her throat ached. “I don’t want to believe he could be wrong about something that big.”
Realization flickered across Gabe’s face, softening his expression. He opened his mouth, but she shook her head, turning to stare out the window.
“I’m feeling emotional. And I hate it.”
He didn’t push. Just put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb.
The drive to her financial advisor’s office was quiet. Not the easy silence they’d fallen into a dozen times. One more jagged. By the time they reached Thomas’s office, she had her emotions into some kind of order like the books scattered across the floor of her shop placed back on the shelves.
The meeting was neat and quick. They discussed Thomas’s plan to inventory the bonds and shares, and that they needed the lawyer to verify that the paperwork Henry provided was enough.
She signed a limited power of attorney and then they were on their way back to the bungalow.
“You did good in there.” Gabe’s low voice jumpstarted the electric current he always fired in her veins.
“Thank you.” She offered him a small smile, but the tension still hummed between them.
Inside the bungalow, Gabe walked straight to the bedroom and came out carrying a pillow. He grabbed one of the throws draped over the back of the couch and dropped both on the cushions.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced up as if the answer should be obvious. “Taking the couch tonight.”
Her brows pinched. “Why?”
“Because you’re upset. I pushed too hard, and you need space. I’m giving it to you.”
The knot of exasperation tugged free in her chest, leaving behind tenderness. “Gabe…I don’t want that.”
He stilled. “You don’t?”
“No.” She drifted closer to him. “We can have differences and still…be on the same side, you know. This isn’t war. You don’t have to exile yourself to the couch every time we disagree.”
He searched her face, eyes cautious. The stern set of his mouth eased. He lifted a hand to her cheek.
“I never doubted your friend’s character.”
She leaned into his touch. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I know he had great taste. He likedyou.”
Her heart did a ridiculous little flip. “Smooth, Black Heart.”
He leaned in and kissed her, the kind of reassuring, unhurried kiss that said they were okay. That he’d stand with her even when they didn’t see the world the same way.
