“Thanks.” Elle set the photos she’d gathered on the coffee table and took a seat next to him on the sofa. “I’d like to say it gets easier every year, but it doesn’t.”
Gabe leaned forward, sifting through the pictures a little before pulling one from the stack and turning to Elle with a grin. “Now, this one I know is you.”
Elle grimaced before she could catch herself. The picture of a gawky, gangly teenager with unruly red hair was definitely her. She snatched it from his grasp with a little laugh. “Yeah, let’s just forget that period of my life ever happened.”
“Are you kidding me?” he said, reclining against the pillows and draping one arm casually over the back of the sofa. “You were adorable.”
“Liar,” she laughed. “Thank God I grew into my legs.”
Gabe gave Elle’s legs the once-over slowly, his gaze as soft and sensual as a lover’s caress, then grinned. “I thought they were great even back then, but I certainly won’t complain now.”
“Uh-huh. Right…” she drawled, trying to ignore the way his gaze sent white-hot heat zipping through her veins. “So what you’re saying is dating all those cheerleaders back in high school was just a front, and in actuality, you were secretly into girls who looked like flamingos? Gee, Gabe, who knew?”
Gabe shrugged. “Oh yeah, I’m full of surprises.”
She gave him a wry grin. “So I’m learning.”
He chuckled but quickly sobered, his expression becoming serious as his gaze traveled over her face. “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
His praise was so obviously sincere that Elle looked away before he could see her blushing. “If you want to see someone really beautiful,” she said, sifting through the pictures to avoid acknowledging his compliment, “take a look at this woman.”
Gabe took the picture she held out and whistled appreciatively. “Damn.”
“That’s my mom,” she told him, curling up beside him on the couch and leaning against his shoulder to better see the photo. Her mother’s smile was so vibrant, her eyes so full of happiness, it was almost like she was looking back at Elle from the photograph, sharing an inside joke.
“She was gorgeous,” Gabe agreed. “You can tell she and your aunt Charlotte are sisters. And that she’s your mom. You have her smile.”
“She was the kind of woman who took over the room when she walked in,” Elle told him wistfully. “Made everything brighter, more beautiful. My dad used to say that the sun shone brighter when his Evelyn smiled.”
“It sounds like she was a pretty incredible person,” Gabe mused. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to know her.”
Elle sighed and gently took the photo from his grasp, gazing at it for a long moment before taking a deep, shaky breath as a few more tears escaped. A moment later, she felt Gabe’s fingers clasp hers in a comforting squeeze. It was then Elle realized she’d rested her head on his shoulder while gazing at the photo. Embarrassed for quite literally crying on his shoulder, she abruptly sat up and wiped at her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “You didn’t come here to listen to me cry about my family.”
“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t. But I’m glad I’m here.” He reached up and wiped at the tears that stubbornly continued to flow down her cheeks. “And I’ll stay as long as you’d like.”
Elle turned her gaze down to where his other hand still tenderly clasped hers. Part of her wanted him to stay, enjoyed the way he caressed the back of her hand, loved the way his deep voice soothed her. But part of her was terrified of what might happen if he did.
She wasn’t naive. She fully realized that she was in an emotionally vulnerable place at the moment and that the longer he sat there, being so damnably sensitive and sincere, the more likely it was that she was going to find herself in his arms again—and this time she had a feeling neither of them would be holding back.
And yet…
She settled back against his shoulder and twined her fingers with his. “It was a car accident,” she began after a few moments of companionable silence. “I was supposed to be with them, but I’d been at the library with my friend Stacy doing research for a school project and had lost track of time. When I realized what time it was, I called my mom and told her to go on without me, that I’d just have Stacy’s mom drop me off at the restaurant where we were supposed to be having dinner for my dad’s birthday.”
Gabe’s thumb continued to smooth over her skin, but he didn’t say a word.
She paused, remembering every detail about that day down to what she’d been wearing, what kind of car Stacy’s mom had been driving when they came upon the traffic jam, the way her stomach had dropped when they finally made it past the wreckage of an automobile that was barely recognizable as the same kind of car her parents drove.
“I saw the wreckage,” she finally continued. “They were working on the car with the jaws of life as the police officer directed us past the scene. I didn’t realize it was my parents’ car until I saw a shoe on the pavement that looked like the ones Eve always insisted on wearing. They were hot-pink Mary Janes.” Elle laughed a little, but unshed tears distorted the sound. “Nobody wore hot-pink Mary Janes. Especially not a redhead.”
“Jesus,” Gabe breathed.
Elle blew out a long, bracing breath. “I started screaming,” she told him. “It was so loud and frantic, Stacy’s mom pulled over and one of the police officers came racing over to see what the hell was going on. They told me they were trying to get my dad out of the car. He lived for a couple of days—long enough for me to say good-bye. They wouldn’t let me see my mom or sisters. I never got to say good-bye to them. Not even at the funeral. I’m told it was better that way.”
“Did they ever figure out what had caused the accident?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she told him, not bothering to check her bitterness. “A guy hopped up on cocaine had plowed into them with his pickup truck. He walked away without a scratch. He was convicted, of course, but got out in a year. He killed my entire family and only served one fucking year. Where’s the justice in that?”
