Anyway, no sense harping on the past.
Morris is okay, had some company, and I have a nice cooked meal. And, honestly, this arrangement will be much better for everyone if Gabby stays here.
How can I assure her that it’s safe, that I’m not gonna try anything? Because the truth is… I don’t want to put her through that, even though there’s that part of me that wakes up around her, that wants to be with her that way.
Finishing off my food, I get up.
She’s still here.
Looking back to the living room, I see her just standing there looking at her phone. Maybe she’s ordering a ride.
“I can drive you home if you want,” I tell her.
Gabby barely looks at me. “Stop trying to find out where I live,” she snaps.
“Not trying to find out where you live. I'm just saying it would be easier, and you would save your money,” I counter, keeping my tone calm.
I wait for a reply.
“I'm good. I ordered a ride already,” she says flatly.
“Suit yourself,” I mutter.
She’s so stubborn. I understand why. God knows I earned that stubborn wall she built, but still… maybe if I made it clear that I’m with someone else now, she would feel safer. She said she doesn’t love me anymore. Is she even being honest? Even if she did, would it matter? I broke her heart. That chapter is closed as far as romance goes.
A car door shuts outside, and she shifts her weight. Her ride must be here.
I keep thinking about how I found her earlier, staring into space, crying, completely still. She wasn’t watching anything. She wasn’t on her phone. It was just raw pain stamped on her face.
“Gabby,” I call out.
She turns around to look at me.
“Have a safe trip home. Will you let me know when you get home safe?” I ask.
She stares at me like I’m an alien. “Do you actually care?” she snips.
“Yes I do,” I tell her.
We hold each other’s eyes for a moment before she blinks and walks away.
“Good night Lincoln,” she says.
“Night Gabby,” I answer softly.
I stand there watching her get into the ride before it pulls away. Only when the taillights disappear do I head upstairs.
After doing my bed routine, I lie down, too tired to do anything else. Morris curls up on the pillow next to me on my right, and I reach over to pet him absently.
Staring up at the ceiling, flat on my back, all I can think about is Gabby.
What was she crying about?
The last thing I ever want to see again is her cry. When I saw her at Macady’s near the bathrooms, crying like her heart was splitting open, all I wanted to do was give her the biggest hug, to shelter her from the pain.
But how can I shelter her with these arms… when these are the very arms that betrayed her?
Why would sheeverfeel safe in them again?
