Instead, Gable speaks.
“Did Asher tell you I’m two years older than him?” he asks, and the question is so out of left field that for a moment I can’t think of the answer.
Finally, I nod. “Yeah.”
He takes my hand, playing with my fingers. “That means I got out of the system before he did. But I went to one last home first. A husband and wife, in their seventies. Ruth and Harold. They were nice. Quiet. Never bugged me to talk or asked me what my plans were once I was out. They said they could help me get work, but never pushed it, y’know? It felt almost cruel that I’d found somewhere so peaceful so close to the end.” He keeps his attention on our hands, lacing our fingers together. “Ruth went to visit her sister one weekend, and the day she left was the same as always. Harold and I were working on one of his old cars, he cooked us dinner, and everything felt normal. But then I … I started to feel weird. Tired. But it was a long day, so I just went to bed.” He pauses, as if gathering strength, and my heart rate starts to pick up. “I remember waking up in the night, and he was in my room.”
My heart slams to a halt.
I hold my breath, praying he won’t say what I think he’s going to.
Gable wets his lips. “Whatever he gave me knocked me out shortly after. I woke up … and I knew. I knew …” He still won’t look at me, and I’m glad, because tears sting my eyes. I move closer to him. “I ran that night. It was two weeks before I turned eighteen, and I had nowhere to go, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I had some money saved up, enough to buy a beat-up car that I lived in for a few months.” He finally looks at me, such raw vulnerability in his eyes that I want to cry for him, to hold him, to take away every awful thing. “I didn’t tell anyone. What would be the point? I was a runaway, I’d been arrested a dozen times, and he was a pillar of the fucking community. I didn’t even stay in touch with Asher. I couldn’t. I knew he’d take one look at me, and he’d know something was wrong.” He takes a breath. “It wasn’t long before I realized how fucking miserable I was without Asher at least being a phone call away. It wasn’t just that I had no one, it was that he was my everyone … so I decided to find him. I bumped into a mutual friend, and he told me that Asher was in another home. The one I’d just escaped from.”
I take in a small gasp. “No.”
“The moment I heard that, I drove straight over there. It was the middle of the night, and I was so fucking scared. Scared that because I hadn’t told anyone, Asher could … he could go through what I had. I climbed in through the bedroom window and tried to wake Asher, but he was drugged. And everything that happened to me that night, the things I could remember and the things I couldn’t, it was like this high-pitched scream in my ears. It wouldn’t stop. It clawed at my fucking brain, made me want to crawl out of myself … when I next opened my eyes, I was covered in blood. Mine and Harold’s. He was dead, I was holding a knife, and he had clearly fought back, because that’s where I got this scar.” He touches his ribs, the one I’d asked about not long ago.
“I’m so sorry, Gable,” I whisper, cupping his cheek.
His swallow looks painful. “While the drugs wore off for Asher, I showered, changed, tried to clean up … but back then I had no idea what I was doing. When Asher finally woke up and saw what I’d done, he didn’t doubt me for a second. He said we’d leave together, we’d run, we’d be fine. So, that’s what we did. We ran. For weeks. We slept in the car, drove as far as we could, and when it got too cold, we rented shitty motel rooms. I really thought we’d gotten past it. That no one would find us. Until someone did. Hunter.”
I shift closer. “How?”
“I’d left a fuck load of DNA at the crime scene, and while I thought we were being covert in our escape, we weren’t. Harold was Hunter’s next job, likely hired by another of his victims, so he wanted to know who had killed him. He was already powerful at that point, so he used that power to find us, got rid of any evidence linking me to the crime, and took Asher and me in.”
That explains their bond, the way Asher had looked at Hunter like he was more than a surrogate father—closer to a god.
“It didn’t take long for Hunter to admit who he worked for and what he did. I think, deep down, he knew I needed an outlet for my rage, and Asher took to it naturally. He trained us. Got us into the agency. I buried what happened, and my kills became violent. Dangerous. Hunter insisted I talk to him, but I couldn’t do it. It meant facing it, and I just couldn’t. Until I almost died on a job because I was so consumed in bloodlust I didn’t notice I was outnumbered.Asher saved my ass, and when I got home, I realized what I’d done. I’d put myself at risk, sure, but Asher, too. That day, I sat in Hunter’s office, and we talked.” His dark eyes take on an almost faraway look. “For hours, we talked. I said it felt like my fault. I should have noticed something was wrong about the food. Should have been strong enough to fight off the drug. Should have gone to the police, made them believe me. I should have killed him sooner.” He shakes his head. “Hunter helped me realize it wasn’t my fault.”
“It wasn’t,” I say softly. “He was a monster.”
Gable locks eyes with me, his usual guard back up, tinged with a raw kind of protectiveness that I've come to crave from him.
“Talking about it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it also stopped me from going down a dangerous path. I won’t say I’m totally healed, if only it were that fucking easy but … it was a start for me.” He touches my face, a soft, tender act. “I won’t push you, and I know people deal with things differently, so if talking isn’t your thing, then fine. But I want you to know that when you’re ready, I’m here.” He presses our foreheads together. “I’m always here.”
I believe him. My life has been in his hands for so long, and he’s kept me alive, fought for me, bled for me.
And now he loves me.
“Maybe soon, I’ll be ready,” I say quietly. “Just … I’m so tired. I don’t think I can process everything.”
He nods. “I understand.”
I cuddle into him, breathing in his scent. “How are we going to make this work? Do we leave once we figure out what to do with the drive?”
He runs his palm up and down my spine slowly. “I’ll be taking you away from everyone you love, Ella.”
“You’re someone I love, too.” I look up at him. He searches my eyes, and I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking he’s selfish, that he’s ruining me in some way. “You’re my future, Gable.”
His smile is small. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“Me neither.” I grin. “But it’s true. I want the whole nine yards, Flynn.”
“Oh yeah?” He grips my hips and pulls me, so I’m straddling him. “Tell me what you want, Gibson.”
I tilt my head back. “Marriage. Kids. White picket fence.”
“So I have to put up with you forever?”
