I look down at her. “You’re not finished with me?” I mean it lightly, a joke, more likeyou aren’t sick of me yet?but that’s not how it comes across. Now that I’ve said it, I realize I mean it both ways.
She blinks, long lashes fluttering, and shakes her head back and forth. Words teeter on the tip of her tongue. I can almost see them, threatening to tumble out. Her eyes widen and her pupils dilate as wisps of alarm settle on her face.
To ease her discomfort, I wind an arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head. “Hot tea sounds great.”
CHAPTER 16
AVERY
He sees it.
These things I want to say.
How easy it would be to loosen my hold on my thoughts. On everything. Can I grant clemency to the barrel of misdeeds that sits between us, and move on?
You’re not finished with me?
The double-meaning rang like a bell, echoing through my chest. I panicked, and he let me off the hook.
A long sigh sticks in my throat as I stretch out in bed. My hand glides over the sheets in search of Gabriel. When I don’t find the warm, hard body I’m looking for, I pull myself to sitting and look around the room. His shirt dangles from the footboard, his shoes lined up neatly next to the open door.
Last night, after hot tea and a long walk around town, he drove me back here and I invited him in. We ended up in bed, like I knew we would. Sometimes, communication between bodies is as effective as the spoken word. And boy, do we communicate well.
It was different, though. The question of ‘What are we doing?’ has permeated both of us, creating an urgency andtenderness that wasn’t there before. The exultation of our reunion is fading, revealing what’s been lurking all along. The hard stuff.
I find Gabriel in the kitchen cooking eggs. His posture is stiff, his back muscles coiled. He’s frowning at the yellow mixture in the pan.
My heart constricts at the sight of him. How good it feels, to wake up and see Gabriel’s belongings, and find him in the middle of a mundane task. As if our lives are as cozy and lived-in as they used to be.
“Hey, you.” I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face against his tense muscles. “What’s wrong?”
He moves the pan off the burner, and I step back so he can turn and face me. The side of his mouth tugs, and he looks so sad. “You’re leaving in four days.”
I nod, a tiny up and down bobbing of my chin.
“There’s nothing for me in Phoenix.” His head shakes slowly as he speaks. “Not right now.”
I nod again. I’ve already drawn the same conclusion. Sugar Creek suits Gabriel. He has come here to rebuild, and he’s not finished building.
My heartbeats ricochet through my chest. This is the part I didn’t plan for when I asked Gabriel to stay when it was snowing. Or when we finally had our overdue reckoning. Or when we let our bodies speak volumes, over and over. “What do we do?”
His expression is unfathomable. He settles both hands on my waist, fingers flexing. “I don’t want to lose you again.” His voice is rough. “And if you asked me to go back to Phoenix with you, I might.”
My breath hangs in my throat, waiting for the rest of what he has to say.
“It wouldn’t be the right choice for me. I’m getting my feet underneath me here.” His voice is rough, resigned. “I would throw all that away for you, Avery, but please don’t ask that of me.”
“I would never.” The words are out of my mouth quickly, and they’re almost completely truthful. A sliver of me sees the possibility of coaxing him into leaving his oasis in the mountains, returning him to the city where he’s from and the life we created.
A lump forms in my throat. I cannot ask anything of him. He might say yes, and saying yes for the wrong reasons is a recipe for disaster.
I push back the stinging feeling behind my eyes, shifting my focus from my loss to his gain. “I’m proud of you, Gabriel.” When his head begins to shake in argument, I palm his jaw and say, “No, really, I am. And you should be, too. It’s not wrong to put yourself first sometimes.”
“Maybe it’s not wrong, but it doesn’t feel right, either.” Gabriel kisses my forehead. “Let’s eat, before it’s cold.”
We don’t bother to sit, choosing to stand at the counter and stare outside as we devour fluffy eggs. When I’m finished, I feed Ruby. She must sense the climate in the room, because she is abnormally calm.
Gabriel takes my plate to the sink with his. He begins the cleanup process, his back muscles flexing with his motion. I want to bury my face there again, against his warm skin that smells like my old life. He’s facing the sink when he says, “You could stay here.” His voice is tentative, his sentence lifting at the end with a hopeful note.
