I smile softly at him before promoting him with a gentle, “Gabe.”
He sighs as he gnaws on his lip. When I start to think I’ve pushed too far, he speaks in a whisper, “What if… I really do want to go, but what if something bad happens? What if someone—” He slams his eyes closed, and the rest comes out as barely more than air. “What if someone touches me.”
When he opens his eyes, all I want is to pull him into my arms; they’re so full of fear, and I’d do anything to take it away.
I think carefully about my next words. “I understand why you’d stress about that, but your friends won’t let anything bad happen to you. Do they know you worry about that?”
He tilts his head. “Not exactly.”
I’m guessing that’s more a no. I really wish he’d tell his friends, but I’m glad he’s opening up to me.
“Okay, well, is there anything I can do that would help? Like I said, I can walk you there and wait around. Stick close by so you can leave whenever you like.”
He nods, then hesitates, fingers still worrying the towel. “You could come, too. If you wanted. Not just walk me there.”
My heart trips over itself, hard enough that I feel it in my throat. “Do you want me to? You don’t have to invite me just because I’m walking you there.”
He stares at the floor for a bit, then says softly, “I’d feel more comfortable if you were there. And… I want you to know my friends better. We could invite Aiden, too. It might be nice to all get together before the gym opens next week.”
Something in his voice—so open, so quietly brave—just about undoes me. The fact he wants me to know his friends better, be part of their group, soothes the longing parts of me that alwayssearched for my own people. They’re a family, it’s clear to see, and I want to be part of it.
“Then I’ll be there,” I promise.
His shoulders sag, and he finally looks up, and when our eyes meet, something flickers between us, something warm and alive. We look at each other for a long moment, like we’re finally seeing each other again after so long. I don’t speak. I don’t want to break the moment. I let myself get lost in those eyes that remind me of spring and forests, life and growth. His cheeks grow pink as the time stretches on.
Does he feel this energy between us, too?
Eventually, he steps back with a nod and gives me a sweet smile. It’s small and shy, it makes my heart pound frantically as my knees grow weak.
I watch him go and decide I don’t care how chaotic brunch gets. I’d sit through ten mimosas and Ciarán questioning me the entire time if it meant Gabe would feel safe enough to walk into that diner.
Tonight, there’s another sticky note waiting in the kitchen. A neon green square and under a paper towel, I find another half Oreo, this time he’s given me the side with the icing. My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
I’d share my last Oreo with you too. – G
The grin that splits my face is almost painful, stretching until my cheeks ache. This man gives me half an Oreo, and suddenly I’m planning our retirement fund.
Someone slap me.
11
GABE
Noah slows his steps until I match him. I’m sure he can sense my trepidation. The walk from the store to Kindle’s isn’t far, but each step takes longer than it should, fear screaming at me to go home. I keep cataloguing reasons to turn back—we could reschedule, I could fake an illness, maybe I left the stove on—but then the diner comes into view, and it’s too late. Aiden is waiting outside for us and grins when he sees me. I must look as worked up as I feel because his expression levels out as he opens the door for us.
Kindle’s looks exactly the same as it did the last time I was here and somehow completely different. The yellow curtains in the front windows are still there, a little more faded now. The booths are still teal, the jukebox still going. “Hound Dog” is playing, and the whole place vibrates with the sound of it.
I hear Noah mutter a little, “Nice,” as he bobs his head to the song. I want to smile at him, but I can’t find it in me. I’m grinding my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
I shouldn’t feel this nervous—it’s just a diner, just brunch with friends—but my anxiety flares anyway. Bria’s behind thecounter, and her laugh carries all the way across the diner. Lou is manning the bar cart. They don’t even look up when we walk in, too busy running this place like they’ve always done, like nothing in the world could shake them.
I wish I felt like that.
We reach the back table, and Abbie waves bright as sunshine while Ciarán slides his sunglasses off and smirks. “Finally. The buff boys grace us with their presence. I was moments from death by starvation.”
He only wears his sunglasses inside when he has a migraine. I give him a questioning look, but he just shakes his head.
“You’ll live,” Aiden mutters while rolling his eyes, sliding in beside Abbie.
