Page 71 of Battle Scars

Manny looks pleased with his decision, but I can’t help but hear our earlier conversation echo through my brain. He even admitted that Gabe was always going to hurt me.

My heart never stood a chance.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Manny says before heading toward his own vehicle.

Gabe helps me into the passenger seat of his SUV and then shuts the door behind me. He makes his way around the car and climbs into the driver seat. We haven’t really spoken since he held me in his arms in the hospital waiting room. He was gentle and caring, and I don’t want to think about it because it will only remind me of what I want and can’t have.

We don’t speak the entire way back to my home in Torrey Pines either. By the time we pull into my driveway, it’s late. Dinnertime has come and gone, and I haven’t been hungry for days. I only ate when Eli or Manny made me feel like I should, like they were judging me and my heartbreak.

As Gabe shuts off the car and walks me to the side door, I realize I’m finally hungry, not for food but for something else, something I shouldn’t allow myself to want, but I’m helpless not to.

As always, he has me wait for him by the door while he checks the house, making sure it’s safe for me to be there, that no one else is lying in wait for us to do me harm. Enough harm has been done today, and I don’t complain about waiting for him. I don’t want to see more damage done to another person, only my heart.

“The house is clear,” he says, surprising me. “You can go up and get some rest now.”

“Wait—” I start, regretting it instantly. I don’t want him to know how weak I really am.

“What is it?” he asks.

As I look at him, really look at him, I notice how tired he seems. It’s not fair of me to ask him for more—of his time, of his body, of himself—so I just shake my head.

“Never mind,” I reply. “You should get some rest too.”

“Just ask,” he demands.

“No, really. It’s fine.”

“Say it,” he snaps.

“I don’t want to be alone,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything at all.”

“What if I can’t forget?” he asks as he steps closer. “What if I don’t want to?”

I close my eyes against the promise of what he’s dangling in front of me. I want it so badly, but I can’t hope anymore, can I?

“I don’t know.”

“What do you want, Adrienne?”

“I want you.”

“Then you’ll have me,” he replies as he steps into my space. He scoops me up into his arms like a bride and carries me carefully up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom.

Something is different here; I don’t know if it’s the brush with death or the sadness that seems to cover him like a blanket. All I know is the attraction we share is still present, now more than ever.

He sets me down on my feet and pulls the covers back on the bed. I step out of my sneakers and pull my tank over my head. He undresses while watching me, and then he lays me down on the bed and covers me with his body. Slowly, gently, he brushes his hands all over my body. Before, he would push me to ignite the fire quickly but here, now, Gabe unhurriedly builds the passion between us.

When I can barely take it anymore, he nudges my legs open with his knee and settles between them. I feel the very tip of him at my center, and then he leisurely slides inside. I arch my neck and gasp. Gabe’s mouth hovers over mine, and we breathe each other in.

I draw my legs up along his sides as he begins to move, connecting our bodies in a way as old as time. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on as he glides in and out, driving our desire higher and higher.

One at a time, he gently pulls at my arms so he can hold my hands in each of his, entwining them on either side of my head. Gabe moves faster, more deliberately. We don’t speak a word as we come together. With one final thrust, he plants himself deep, and we fall over the edge together.

Afterward, he rolls to his side, taking me with him in his arms. We lie in bed, face to face, curled up and clinging to one another as we drift off to sleep. My final thoughts before sleep claims me is that it’s a shame he won’t be here when I wake up in the morning.

I wake with a start, gasping for breath as the last trailing fingers of my nightmare let me go. The sounds of the explosion still echo in my ears, and the sight of Eli, unconscious and bleeding haunt me.

But he’s not dead.