“Perhaps,” Irving hedged, probably unwilling to speculate. “It’s really too bad you couldn’t bring one back.”
Gabriel resisted the urge to flip the desk. “Maybe next time.”
Irving hummed and then resumed studying the photos. It was probably all he was going to get out of the man tonight. Which was fine by Gabriel. Irving was more than welcome to sit at his desk until the candles burned out.
He didn’t say goodbye, just left. Snagging his helmet, he made his way toward the outdoor stairs. Most of the rooms were on the second floor, with a few adjacent to the conference room and lobby. Irving took one of the downstairs rooms, and they left the rest for any injured. Tommy propped one open for the animals. Irving had nearly lost it when he found out, but Phin had purposefully slipped a brick between the door and the jam so it would stay open, and Irving had simply rolled away, his eyebrows pinched.
It had been a glorious victory.
Taking the stairs as quickly as his legs would allow, Gabriel turned the corner and focused on the fourth door down. Now that he was in view, he started shedding his plate carrier, letting it fall with athunk. He’d pick it up later.
As he reached for the knob, a little loose from jimmying it open the first time, he heard boots scuffing down the concrete walkway.
“Gabriel?”
And there he was. Blake was holding a comically large candle, the kind with three wicks and some kind of asinine scent. The flame flickered, sputtering against the cold. It barely illuminated half of Blake’s face, but Gabriel didn’t need it. He could map Blake’s face with his eyes closed.
Letting go of the knob, Gabriel dropped his helmet and took three big steps toward Blake. He grabbed his face, thumbs tracing the angles of his jaw, his cheeks. The arch of his expressive eyebrows. Even the little nub of a ponytail he’d pulled his hair into. Several curls escaped, tickling his temples. Gabriel twined one around his finger.
Blake was blinking up at him, his eyes dilated in the low light as he took Gabriel in. He’d pictured this moment so many times—when he was cold and hungry, crammed into some little crevice to snatch what rest he could. Gabriel would close his eyes and imagine this moment.
It was surreal, but Blake was here. Warm and firm in his hands. Gabriel pressed his nose into his hair and inhaled. He smelled like smoke and the astringent hotel shampoo. Gabriel couldn’t speak.
So he kissed Blake. First his temples and then over his eyes and cheeks before he finally found his lips. They were chapped, but pliant. Parting like a siren's call, Gabriel was nothing but a helpless sailor ready to tip overboard.
Blake was holding the candle to the side with one hand, but the other he wrapped around Gabriel, fingers digging into him so hard he could feel them through the layers of clothing.
“Blake,” Gabriel murmured. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say; he just wanted to say his name. Let the syllables roll off his lips, and instead of falling away into the dark, elicit a response. Blake trembled, laying his forehead against Gabriel’s chest.
“God, I missed you so much. You have no idea.” Gabriel moved to kiss him again, but Blake turned his head. Gabriel felt his stubble rake against his bare cheeks. Gabriel smiled against them, remembering how grumpy he had been when he couldn’t grow a beard.
“Graves is dead,” Blake said coldly.
Gabriel froze where he’d been nuzzling against Blake’s cheek. The growing wave of euphoria at having him back in his arms crashed, and he was left floundering.
He barely knew Graves. They’d brought him in between missions, but he knew Blake had liked him. Had worried about him a lot. Gabriel had been so in awe of Blake for not only doing what needed to be done for Graves, but for taking all the extra time to sit with him.
Reeling from the whiplash of their conversation, Gabriel tried to find his footing. He’d been here before. More times than he could recount. But this wasn’t a young soldier shocked at the death of a brother in arms. This was Blake.HisBlake.
Trying to answer not as a commander, but as a lover, he licked his lips. “I’m sorry,” he began, hating the words the moment they fell. “He was a good person.”
Blake’s jaw worked as he stared at the ground. Gabriel waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. Pinching his chin, he tried to get Blake to look at him.
“It wasn’t your fault, Blake. You did everything you could.”
Blake scoffed.
Gabriel tried again. “Hey, you didn’t crush his leg. It wasn’t?—”
“No, but I gave him the antibiotic he was allergic to!” Blake snapped, finally lifting his head. His green eyes were narrowed and sharp. That dreamy look he’d given Gabriel when they kissed was gone, replaced by something colder than the snow banked up against the motel.
“The building crushed him, but I killed him.”
Gabriel didn’t understand. He tried to piece together what Blake was saying, but he couldn’t get past the look on Blake’s face. It didn’t belong.
“You did the best you could.” Even as he said it, he regretted it.Don’t give me a bunch of bullshit,had been one of the first things Blake had ever said to him.
Blake sneered. “The best I could do was failure?” he tried to push away, but Gabriel held firm. This wasn’t the man he knew. There was a set to his jaw, a darkness in his eyes that hadn’t been there when he left.
