Page 27 of Breaking Hollywood

“And…I’m…sorry.” It sounds painful for him to say.

Of course I’m going to milk it. “Can you say that again? I didn’t quite hear you. And wait while I get my phone out, so I can get this on camera.”

“Ha. Very funny. Don’t push your luck, Speedy.”

I smile, and so does he. Then, silence falls between us.

“It was a really shitty thing to say.” My words are quiet.

“I know.” He sighs. “I just have a hard time with accepting help. I don’t like to feel useless. I took that out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

I meet his eyes. “You’re forgiven.”

His eyes smile back at me. “So…”

“So, what?”

He scratches his cheek, looking uncomfortable. “Well, if the offer’s still there…I’d really like to take you up on it.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Please, Speedy. If you don’t, Tate’s gonna hire some scary-ass nurse called Big Bertha to come and take care of me.”

I laugh.

“I’m not kidding. He just threatened me with it. And, apparently, she’s mean as hell.”

That makes me laugh harder. “I don’t know, Gabe. I think Big Bertha is just the punishment you deserve for being an asshole.”

“Please, Speedy.” He grabs my hand, his gorgeous brown eyes pleading up at me. “I need you.”

Well, if that doesn’t get me, nothing will. My heartbeat has tripled in time. And he’s still holding my hand, and my skin is on fire.

But I play it cool. “Fine”—I sigh—“I’ll come take care of you. It’s not like I have anything better to do right now anyway.”

He smiles. “You’re awesome.”

“I know. Now, come on, let’s go get your foot sorted, so we can get you home.”

Ava

Gabe lives in West Hollywood, so we’re actually heading back in the direction of where I left my car, which I’ll need to pick up later.

He directs me to his apartment building, and he tells me to park his car in one of his two allotted spaces in the underground parking lot.

I help him out of the car, and he allows me to, which is a miracle in itself. He’s been a lot more cordial since his apology earlier. We’ve still bickered, of course. It would be weird if we didn’t.

I hand him his crutches, and we head for the elevator.

He’s got a boot on, which goes up to just below his knee. It seems a little extreme to me for a broken foot, but I guess the doctor knows best.

And Tate wants him to keep his weight off his foot for the next few weeks, so no walking on it—hence, the crutches.

He looks kind of funny and not just because of the boot and crutches. But Tate had to cut off the leg of his pants, so the boot could be fitted. So, he has one leg of his pants cut above the knee while the other is still long.

We go inside the building and step into a huge lobby area to reach the elevators.

Gabe lifts his hand in greeting at the older man behind the security desk. “Hey, Harry.”