I feel his thumb run across the back of my hand, and the warmth of his touch sends a sense of calm through me. A safe warmth. My heartbeat steadies a little, the chaos in my mind slowing,as though his presence alone is enough to ease the jagged edges of my nerves.
I inhale deeply.
Should I tell him?
For a moment, I hesitate. I’ve told him bits and pieces—about Connor, about the breakup, the aftermath—but never the full story. Gabriel already knows some of it. He knows that there is more to the story than what I’ve said. There’s a depth there that I haven’t shared with anyone—not even Melanie or Harlow.
But in this moment, standing here with Gabriel, I feel like I want to let it out. I want him to know the full story.
I look away briefly, biting my lip, trying to steady my voice. “There’s a part I’ve told no one. Not really. And I don’t know why I’m telling you now.”
I look up at him, my eyes meeting his, and I realize that whatever it is—whateverheis—it feels like it could be the right time. The right person.
“Actually, I want to talk,” I begin slowly, my voice tentative, but gaining strength with each word. “But not about what happened back there. I want to tell you what happened to Connor and me.”
Gabriel’s expression softens even further, his hand now cradling mine in both of his. I can see the curiosity in his eyes, but there’s no rush to his movements, no pressing for more. He’s just….waiting for me to speak.
1. capocuoco- chef
The Burden of Perfect
GABRIEL
SeeingMillie being manhandled by that lowlife back there has my blood boiling. Even now, when she’s safe with me, her body warm against mine, I can still feel the anger simmering inside me.
I’ve seen enough in my life to know when someone is trying to control or hurt a person, but this? This is different. This isher, and I’m so fucking furious I can barely keep it in.
Her eyes are glossy from what just happened, but I can see she’s trying to play it cool, trying to act like it’s no big deal. But I know her better than that. The way her shoulders are tense, the way she keeps biting her lip—like she’s holding something back. She wants to tell me about her ex, and part of me dreads hearing about it. I know I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting to hunt the bastard down. I don’t know much about him, but what I already know makes me want to punch through a wall.
The thought of some guy—any guy—treating her like that makes me sick. Hell, even the way that guy looked at her earlier made me see red. That wasn’t just about the manhandling. It was the way he looked at her—like she was a prize to be won or discarded. Like she belonged to him. Like she was less than human.
I don’t care if he’s some old boyfriend from her past or a stranger. Anyone who thinks they can touch her in any way, deserves a reminder of how to respect women.
But I’m trying to keep my cool. I know Millie’s a fighter. She doesn’t need me to save her from anything. She doesn’t need me to storm in and fix it. But goddamn it, I want to. I want to fix all the things that have hurt her and make her believe she deserves more. I want to erase the marks of her past—whether they’re emotional or physical—and make sure she knows she’s safe with me.
I want to be her shield and her shelter, the person who rebuilds what was broken. But I know it takes time—sometimes, a lifetime—and I’m ready for every second.
She looks at me, eyes searching mine. “Gab, I…” Her voice is thick, like she’s struggling to get the words out. The hesitation kills me. I want to pull her close and tell her she doesn’t have to say anything.
But I know she needs this. She needs to talk about it. To get it out.
Ever since we kissed in my kitchen, my already strong feelings for her have only intensified. I had been frequenting Beanstalk every day in hopes I would get to see her.
Her fingers twitch as she takes a slow, deep breath, like she’s trying to gather herself. She doesn’t pull away from me, though, which is a relief. She leans her head back, a soft exhale leaving her lips as she speaks again.
“We met in high school,” she says quietly, her voice distant, like she’s reliving it all over again. “Freshman year. I guess he was just everything I thought I wanted back then. He had the charm, the smile. He made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. I felt special. And I guess… I guess I thought that meant love.”
Her voice trembles just slightly, like she’s still caught in that memory, still hurt by the way her young heart believed in something that turned out to be broken.
The words are slow, almost hesitant, but I can hear the emotion in them. The hurt, the confusion. And I know she hasn’t talked about him, hasn’t let herself think about it. But now, she’s opening up in a way neither she nor I expected.
“We were that couple, you know?” She smiles faintly, but it’s not a happy smile. “Everyone thought we were perfect. High school love—the kind you see in movies. ”She pauses, her voice softer now. “All the other girls envied me. I was his ‘girl.’ And for a while, that was enough.”
She swallows, glancing down at her hands. “He made me feel like… like I was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Her gaze shifts to the lake, eyes unfocused, as if watching something only she can see. “But when we went off to Delaware State together… things changed. A lot.”
I stay quiet, arms wrapped around her, listening to every word. There’s a need to understand what happened, to know why it still haunts her so deeply. I want to kill the bastard for making her feel this way.
