We climb from the truck. Gabriel takes my hand, leading me. “There’s a pool in the backyard.” He removes a key from his pocket and lets us in.
The interior is as charming as the front yard. Spanish tile, and windows everywhere. The sparkling pool is visible from the foyer, and beyond that the mountains loom large.
“This is gorgeous,” I say, when Gabriel returns with our bags.
“My grandparents don’t use it much. They don’t like to drive this far anymore, but they don’t want to sell it.”
I kiss his cheek. “Lucky us.”
Gabriel pushes aside my hair and kisses my shoulder. He wraps his arms around my waist and takes in the view with me. My gaze zeroes in on a hot tub off to the side of the yard. “Please tell me that works.”
“It better work,” Gabriel growls against my ear. “If it doesn’t, I’ll figure out a way to make it.”
Turns out, the hot tub operates just fine. Gabriel peels off my clothes, then his own, and we climb into the hot, bubbling water.
Our kisses make everything hotter, and when he lines himself up with me, I sink down. My head tips back, and I exhale. I feel like double the person I am when I’m on my own two feet. I’m invincible, more myself than I’ve ever been, better because of him. This must be what everyone is seeking, this true love that has driven people to insanity and eluded so many others. It is in songs, books, poems, and films. But for me, it’s right here. It is on me. In me. Kissing me.
This is what it’s like to be treasured. Cherished. It will always feel this way. It has to. Anything else is inconceivable.
Later, when we’re physically sated but our stomachs tell us they’re not in agreement, we venture out. We buy enough food for the next few days. At the end of the aisle in the grocery store, I lift a small bottle of Baileys, feeling buoyant and carefree. “What do you think? We could really be on vacation and add this to our coffee?”
Gabriel shakes his head. “I’ll pass. But you can, if you want to.”
I slide the bottle back onto the shelf. “Nah. It’ll just make me tired for the rest of the day.”
It isn’t until we’re curled around one another in bed that night that I ask him a question I’ve been reluctant to ask. Sabrina’s words when we were shopping months ago have never fully left my mind, and I’ve been afraid of what Gabriel’s answer might be. It’s time, though. If there’s something to know, I should know it. I’m careful to keep my tone flippant, likeno big deal, and say, “I’ve noticed you don’t drink alcohol. Is there a reason for that?”
His hand stills. He’d been running it over my back, and now all I feel is the tremble in his fingertips.
“Alcohol is not my friend,” he says, each word measured.
I roll over and prop myself up on an elbow, my head cradled in my palm. “I don’t know if it’s anybody’s true friend. But why is it not yours, specifically?”
Gabriel takes a deep breath, his warm exhale streaming over my exposed skin. “Remember when I told you I was with Nash when he had a heart attack?”
I nod, preparing myself for what’s to come.
“I’d been at a party with a bunch of guys I met the summer after senior year. Nash warned me they weren’t people I should be hanging around with, but I thought he was being an annoyingolder brother.” Gabriel hesitates, running a thumb over his jaw before continuing.
“I was drinking a lot by then, and I meana lot. You wouldn’t have recognized the person I was at the time.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s weighing his words.
I’m careful to keep my expression neutral. I am a safe place for him.
“Anyway, we were all wasted the night of the party, and someone suggested we fight each other. It started out one on one, but somewhere along the line that changed. I don’t think they planned it, but suddenly I was being jumped. Alcohol, testosterone, groupthink, and pure stupidity.” Gabriel presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I was messed up, bloody and my nose was broken, and I called Nash for help. He lost his shit when he arrived. I looked awful. I told him to take me home, but he took me to the emergency room. We were in the waiting room, and he was sitting beside me, and he was touching his left arm and saying his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it. I told him maybe he should add his name to the list, but I was joking. He’d tried to laugh, but then he started sweating and his body just…it just jerked, like he’d been shocked.”
Gabriel’s eyes fill with moisture. “I ran to the front desk, screaming for help, and the person looked at my face and started handing me tissues. I pointed at Nash, who was still sitting in the chair. She finally understood and picked up the phone. She said something, some kind of code, and then nurses were flying through the doors and into the waiting room.” He wipes away tears. “Nash was already gone. My parents requested an autopsy and learned about his heart condition. Somehow he made it through life and sports without it being a problem, but on that day it was enough to end his life. No more school, no more dates, no more plans to be a firefighter like our dad. No future.”
His head shakes like he still can’t believe what happened. “Rationally, I know it’s not my fault. The heart defect was always there. But rational doesn’t have a place in grief, and I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I made the defect express itself that day.”
I’m crying with him. I don’t know what to say, so I touch his face and wipe his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel.” His eyelashes flutter closed, and tears stick to them.
“It’s why I became a firefighter,” he says. His eyes remain closed. “It was Nash’s dream. And my dad’s.”
“Was it not yours, too?”
His eyes open and his head shakes, micro-movements against the bedsheet. “The day I told my mom I got into the academy was the first time she smiled since Nash died.”
“You’re good at it.” It’s not an argument, but a statement of fact. Gabriel already knows he is good at fighting fires, at saving lives, at running in when others run out.
