It should’ve faded over the years. But it didn’t, and now living here, it’s growing. Sharing a space with him feels like getting caught in his gravity—impossible to escape. I don’t even want to. My eyes always find him once we’re sharing space—the way his hair falls into his face when he’s reading or writing in his journal, the small crease between his brows when he’s thinking. Even when I tell myself to stop noticing, I still do.
And it’s complicated. Because he’s Aiden’s brother. And Gabe’s been through something. I see it—the way he startles at sudden noise, the careful distance he keeps, the way his gaze slips away like it costs him something to hold it. That scar on his cheek catches the light sometimes, and it makes something fierce and protective come to life within me.
Makes me want to shield him from anything that could even come close.
It’s not that I think he feels the same draw that I do. I don’t. He’s never shown anything like that. But attraction doesn’t care about logic, and mine doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I tug the hoodie tighter around me, breathing in. For a second, I let myself wonder what it would be like if this life were mine to come home to every day—if he were mine. Not just mine to look at from across the room, but mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to cherish.
The thought leaves me lightheaded because I want it way too much.
The idea of never being more than this—just a roommate, just a presence in his space—burns like a slow match under my ribs.
And still, I have to be okay with it. If all I ever get is being the guy who shows up, who makes things easier for him, then that’s what I’ll be. Even if it hurts, I’ll take that hurt for Gabe. Because more than wanting him, I wantforhim. Safety. Ease. Laughter without fear. If that’s all I’m ever allowed to give, it will be enough.
It has to be.
Gabe’s been fidgeting since I got home from leaving flyers around other local businesses. His energy is restless. He wipes the same corner of the counter three times while I rinse out the blender, glancing between me and the dish towel like he’s working up to something.
“You okay?” I ask, flicking water from my fingers.
His eyes snap up. “Yeah. I mean”—he clears his throat—“yes. I’m fine.”
Which means he isn’t.
He folds the towel, then unfolds it. Folds it again. Takes a breath and does it once more. Three times.
“Abbie and Ciarán invited me to brunch.” His words leave him in a rush. I lean on the counter, keeping my demeanor calm. This is freaking him out, Aiden said he rarely goes out anymore.
“Nice.”
He lets out a startled laugh.
“It’s a ‘boozy brunch’… At Kindle’s.” He says the words like they’re another language.
I laugh. “That sounds very on brand.”
He smiles faintly, then shakes his head. “I don’t usually go to things like that. Not anymore.”
I nod, not pushing. Just letting the quiet hang while his fingers wring the towel again.
“I’m not sure I’ll go. But… I’m thinking about it. I don’t know if I will. But. I want to go but—”
“Gabe,” I interject to calm his rambling. His head snaps up, and I meet his eyes. “If you want to go, then I think you should.”
He blinks at me, surprised. “You do?”
“Yeah. You don’t have to stay long. Show up, see how you feel.” I hesitate, then add, “I could walk you there. Walk you home. If that helps.”
He takes a breath that shakes a little, eyes searching mine before darting away. “You’d do that?”
The question is full of uncertainty, like he can’t quite believe it—can’t believe someone would do something for him. It cracks something open in my chest.
“Of course.” My voice is steady; it always will be for him. Because I would build a road under his feet if it meant he’d take one more step toward the things he wants.
“I dunno,” he mumbles.
I step closer without crowding him. “Will you tell me what makes you so nervous about going?”
His eyes shoot to mine, that little crease forming between his brows before he laughs awkwardly. “My constitution?”
