“I gathered as much.”
“Especially the succession. Not that anyone is fighting Aaiden for head of the family.”
I frown in confusion. “Are you worried that, asthe fourth sibling of the head family, you’ll be cut off?”
He flinches. “Keeping the Rockford name pure matters, whether or not they come out and say it.”
The emphasis he places on “they” rather than “we” catches my attention. His breathing turns shallow, chest rising and falling in quick succession.
He stops fidgeting with the sheet, and his fingers curl into a loose fist. I wait, letting him decide whether to cross this threshold between us. After sharing some of my darkest secrets last night, I understand the courage it takes to expose the wounds you’ve spent a lifetime hiding.
Gabriel raises his eyes to meet mine, and in them I see a question.Do I care?
“Tell me,” I encourage, not because I need to hear it, but because he needs to say it. “Whatever it is, it won’t change my opinion of you.”
He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m a Rockford. Not by blood, at least. Not where it counts.”
I massage his waist with my thumb, waiting for him to continue.
“It’s been whispered about since I was a kid.” Gabriel focuses on a point beyond my shoulder. “Therumor is that my mother had an affair, and I’m the result.”
His hands begin to tremble, and he curls his fingers into fists to hide the reaction.
“My father never confirmed it, but the way he looked at me sometimes…” He swallows hard. “Like he was searching for another man’s features in my face.”
Distress rolls off him in waves, cutting through his usual luxurious scent.
“My brothers never treated me like I didn’t belong,” he continues. “Aaiden, Sebastian, Nolan…they’ve always protected me. But my aunts and uncles… They’ve kept me at arm’s length.”
I can picture the subtle, unspoken ways people signal that someone doesn’t belong. The slight hesitation before including him in family traditions. Conversations that halt when he enters a room. Comparisons that emphasize differences rather than similarities.
“At family gatherings, they’d comment on how Aaiden and Nolan have their father’s eyes, how Sebastian inherited the Rockford intelligence.” A bitter smile pulls at his lips. “For me, it was always how much I resembled my mother’s brother. How I have my mother’s temperament.”
His breath hitches, a small catch in his throat. “When I was ten, my uncle got drunk at Christmas and called me the cuckoo in the nest. My father broke his nose, but he never denied it.”
Gabriel runs a hand through his hair, which leans more toward dirty blond than anyone else in his family, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. His eyes, brown-green hazel instead of blue-green like his brother Sebastian’s, remain fixed over my shoulder, on the Freedom from Fear painting hanging on my wall, the artwork about hiding truths from those you protect.
“I’ve spent my entire life trying to prove I belong there, but my older brothers and cousins all coddle me. Like I don’t have it in me to handle the family business, because they all know I’m not a real Rockford.”
The words spill out faster now, a dam breaking after years of pressure. “I thought if I could be useful enough, no one would care that I might not share their blood. When Avery told me to go to the Blue Note to meet Orien?—”
“And Avery is…family?” I break in, unable to stop my curiosity.
Gabriel huffs out a breath. “Yes, he’s my brother-in-law, Raphael’s mate. As far as the rest of the worldis concerned, Raphael died in a car accident, but really, he gave up the family name to be with his mate.”
Gabriel touches the tattoo on his chest of the clock and gears. “He even had the family emblem removed, and Sebastian changed his medical records, so if he’s ever taken hostage or dies, no one will connect him to us. He gave it all up for love.”
The pieces slot into place. Gabriel’s desperate need for connection, his intense pursuit of me despite my rejection. It wasn’t arrogance driving him, but a fear of being no one’s first choice.
I withdraw my hand from him. “Is that why you kept coming back to Foundation? To prove something?”
“No, that wasn’t about proving anything.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess, even if I’m not a real Rockford, I’m still cursed like the rest of them. The first time I saw you, I fell hard, and I wanted…”
“You wanted what?” I urge, needing to hear it.
“To matter to someone who chooses me, not because of my name or what I can do for them.” The words come out stripped bare of pretense. “To be seen as myself, not as a maybe-Rockford.”
I understand the certainty of not belonging anywhere. The exhaustion of constantly proving yourworth. The fear that if people see the real you, they’ll turn away in disgust.
