Chapter 22

22

"Are you blind?" Leah cupped her hands around her mouth as she bellowed at the umpire. She'd shot out of her plastic seat at the call and now gestured wildly. "He was safe!"

Around her, other Cubs fans shouted in agreement. A large man eating a chili dog next to her lifted it in agreement. "You tell 'em, honey."

She made a disgusted sound and plopped back in her chair. "Ridiculous. Can you believe that?"

On the other side of her, Gabriel sat with perfect posture, dressed in designer jeans, a cashmere sweater the color of his eyes and a brown suede jacket. His hair was windblown and he wore sunglasses, which reflected her outrage as he turned to look at her.

In honor of making their remaining time count, they'd decided on equal opportunity: his and hers activities. Leah had nominated baseball as their first date.

From his expression, she didn't think he was feeling America's pastime.

"You're so angry," he commented, his accent out of place in a stadium full of people who spat, scratched and swore, "about a baseball game."

"That could have cost us," she explained, voice hot. She curled her hands into fists, bashed them against her knee. "And this is our year."

"It's my understanding Cubs fans believe every year is their year, when statistics say—"

"Do I need to explain the rules again?"

"Please, Goddess, no."

She eyed him with some humor. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Every second is an experience in pleasure," he said, deadpan.

She shook her head. "Maybe you're not in the proper spirit because you're not dressed right."

"I'm wearing jeans."

"Aw, baby, you miss your suits?"

"Jeans are constricting."

"You're so weird."

"Unlike you, the model of normal."

She grinned, reached up and took off her hat. She undid the band to make it larger and then leaned over to place it on his head. Backward.

He sat perfectly still. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing you as a baseball fan." Gabriel, darkly, sleekly handsome, in jeans, sweater, jacket and a backwards cap. A shiver slid through her. "It's working for me."

His head cocked. "Really?"

"Mmm." She felt restless as she continued to look at him. "You sure wear the hell out of a hat, Gabe."

He considered, sliding his sunglasses off and hooking them on his sweater. He turned the cap around so the brim shaded his eyes. "How much do you like it?"

She saw where this was going and wagged a finger playfully. "Not enough to skip the rest of the game."

"What if I...helped the Cubs win?"

Shock halted her thoughts. She spluttered, insult raging. "The Cubs do not need your help to win."

His eyes went to the field, the scoreboard, then back to her.

Hers narrowed.

To her further shock, he smiled. "You're very easy."

She sat back. "You're saying you wouldn't have cheated and broken the...you're right, I fell for that way too easily." Like Gabriel would ever. The guy probably dreamed in black-and-white.

To his credit, he was giving the game a go, scrutinizing it as he did with everything new. Probably trying to figure out how they could improve their game. Without magic, even though he had implied otherwise. Teasing. He'd teased her.

She held the delight in her secret heart and hugged herself. She chose to focus on that, on the good parts rather than the negative. And there was so much good here.

But only for a little while.

On the echoes of that thought, she studied him. "What'll you give me if we leave early?"

Everything about him came to attention. His head tilted to her, gaze intently green under the brim of the Cubs cap. God, he'd never looked more attractive than he did wearing her team's merch.

"Is that a possibility?"

A slow sly grin. "Put the offer on the table."

"I could put you on the table."

Someone shouted on the field and the crowd shouted in return, yet it all went fuzzy as her body roared to life.

"Feast on you like my own personal dessert." Lazily, his gaze drew down her body. "All three courses. It could take a while. If we leave now, we might finish before midnight."

The cotton of her bra rasped her nipples until she felt like squirming, did squirm. Her hand gripped the plastic chair.

"Thoughts?"

She dragged in a breath that did nothing to help. The baseball game faded to the background. "I want my turn."

His expression turned hunting quiet. "Is that a yes?"

She gave him a jerky nod.

He didn't waste time, gripping her hand to lead her out of their row. As a cheer went around the stadium, he pulled her up the steps and then out into the echoing hall, where he backed her against the wall. He braced a hand above her head, the other arm bracketing her. "I don't like baseball."

"I figured." God, he smelled good.

"But I like you."

Little pops of lust burst within her and she went up on tiptoe, gripping his sweater to yank him down for a hot, drowning kiss.

"I like you, too," she said against his mouth. "But Gabe? You're keeping the hat on."

She felt the smile against hers before he propelled her into motion and out of the stadium.

"This is inappropriate," Gabriel complained the next night from his seat on the couch. He'd refused to cuddle up with Leah in front of his sister, somewhat embarrassed at the idea, and now perched on the end as Leah, Melly and Sloane all lumped together. A blanket covered them and a giant bowl of buttered popcorn Leah had insisted on was clutched by Melly, who sat in the middle with a grin just as giant on her face. It warmed him, even as he shook his head, lips set.

Leah rolled her eyes. " Pretty Woman is a classic."

"It has—" He gestured to his sister. "Inappropriate content."

Who rolled her eyes. "Gabriel, I know about sex."

"Please," he said, cringing.

"I'm almost a woman. And Sloane says this movie is awesome."

Sloane peered past Melly, nodding. "It is. Julia Roberts kicks ass."

"I'm not sure that a fourteen-year-old—" He broke off as a handful of popcorn hit him in the face.

Leah grinned at his stupefaction, popping the next kernel in her mouth. "Loosen up, Gabe."

"Yeah, Gabe," his sister echoed.

"You're a bad influence," he informed Leah. "I cannot watch a dirty movie with my sister."

"But you've watched them alone?"

He scowled. "I don't like you."

Melly hooted a laugh. "You broke him. I don't believe it." She tipped her head onto Leah's shoulder. "You're awesome."

As annoyed and embarrassed as he was, Gabriel's heart spasmed at the sight of the two of them together. The strong reaction unnerved him, pushing him to stand, get some space from the tableau. "I'll get drinks."

"For the whole movie?" Leah's voice laughed as he strode away.

He needed to get a grip. He opened the fridge, pulled out cans of Diet Coke he'd stocked for Leah. The past couple of days had been fun, light. As they should be, as he would expect when dealing with Leah. He was enjoying it all. There was no need to get antsy about how well she fitted into this family.

"You're not really that much of a prude, right?"

Her voice made him want to smile, a growing reaction he curbed as he turned toward her. Today, she wore one of her sweaters that slipped off her shoulder and worn jeans. Cozy. Touchable.

He had an audience of teenage girls, he reminded himself, one of which was his sister. There would be no touching.

"I have some inhibitions."

A sinful gleam in her eyes made him wary. "Didn't seem like that yesterday at the art show in the back room."

His blood rushed hot through his system. Sister, he reminded himself. And Sloane.

Still, not trusting himself completely, he took a step back as she advanced and put up his hands.

Her lips twitched. "Are you warding me off?"

"Yes." Primly, he gestured. "You stay on that side."

She held up her own hands, tucking them in her back pockets. Her breasts rose, guiding the sweater down her shoulder to expose her lickable tattoo.

"You should really go and watch the movie," he said, voice betraying his desire. "Better they not catch us together."

The teasing light died.

He didn't like that. "There would be questions," he tried to explain. God knew Melly had peppered him with them the other day, to the point his ears still rang.

"Wouldn't want that." Sounding off in a way he couldn't explain, Leah picked up the cans of Diet Coke, balancing the three. "I'll give these to the girls. If you want to go do something, I'll stay here until the movie's done."

He watched as she walked around the breakfast bar and delivered the drinks, plopping back into her seat. She didn't curve into the cushions like before, just stared at the screen.

Her reaction ate at him. He'd said something wrong. He'd hurt her.

With a burning hole in his gut, he returned to the couch, biding his time until Melly had hugged him and left with Sloane to portal back to New Orleans.

When he turned, he discovered Leah had wandered onto his small balcony, leaning on the wrought iron as a breeze played through her hair.

He quickened his pace outside. "You shouldn't be so close to the edge," he warned.

Humans couldn't conjure anything to save themselves. One slip and she'd be hurt.

Fragile. She denied it, but it wouldn't take much, and she could be gone. It was enough to have him move to her side, prepared to grab her if she so much as teetered.

She sent him a smile over her shoulder, but with no real sparkle. "Always taking care."

"You do have a habit of needing rescue on balconies."

At the reference to their first meeting, her smile gained some warmth. He felt it in his soul.

"As I recall," she said, shifting to watch him, "I didn't need rescuing." She tilted her head. "When did you figure it out?"

"The night you almost kissed me."

It made her choke. "I think actually you almost kissed me. " She chuckled, glancing at the view. "I wonder if we'd have got here without that first meeting."

"You shouldn't have been there." It had been so dangerous, it still made his heart stop.

She stilled, then nodded. "You're probably right."

And that was off, too. Leah didn't passively accept what she should or shouldn't do. She pushed, fought for what she wanted.

He watched her in the darkness, the glow of the inside lights painting that false expression. "I did something," he said abruptly. "What?"

She tipped her head back to the stars. "So far away," she murmured. "You ever think just how far away the stars are? How out of reach."

"Not especially." Impatient, he set his hand on hers where it curled around the railing. "Tell me."

One last look at the sky, and then she faced him, studying his face with the same contemplative expression. "Are you ashamed to be with me, Gabriel?"

Shock punched into his chest. "I beg your pardon?"

She didn't move. "Ashamed. I'm human, after all. And you're the Warlock of Contempt."

He pulled his hand back. For once, he didn't make any effort to guard his expression from her. "I didn't cultivate that. And I don't particularly care what others think of me. I thought you understood that."

"I know you say you don't care," she said, more to the railing than him.

"I don't."

She angled her head toward him. "Then why don't you want your sister to know about us?"

"What?" Confusion twisted as he frowned at her. "Melly already knows."

It wasn't hard to read the shock that jerked her back. He wasn't sure why she was so stunned. As awkward as it might be, he wasn't going to hide Leah from the one person who'd always been in his heart. Melly and he never had secrets.

Leah's eyebrows threaded. "Then why... Earlier, you said..."

He recalled the moment, relieved it was so simple to explain. "It's uncomfortable for me. Open affection." Honesty compelled him to add, "And it's hard having a younger sister ask questions you don't know the answers to."

Like where this was going. Except he knew the answer to that. He just didn't like saying it aloud.

"I guess talking to a fourteen-year-old about sex could be awkward."

He cringed.

It made her laugh. A small laugh, but it brightened the air like golden sparks. "Typical brother. You know she's probably going to start dating soon."

"Stop." He ran a finger around his neckline, tugging at it like it choked.

Her smile faded and she took a moment to look at him. Something soft, pleading, reflected in the blue. "It really has nothing to do with me?"

He'd assumed Leah was confident in her appeal, that she knew he was wrapped around her little finger. But something wounded lurked beneath the pretty surface.

It called to his own aches, his own scars. And he wondered how deep the scars went, if her desire for constant company—be it animal or human—in fact stemmed from not wanting to be alone with whatever the voices whispered to her.

He knew what that was like.

He wasn't an eloquent warlock, at least he didn't think of himself that way. But he knew what he said next meant everything. "Anyone that makes you feel less than the incredible person you are isn't worthy of your time. You're a gift, Leah."

Clearly uncomfortable, Leah ducked her head. "Yeah, well... Sorry to ask, it's just with the whole...magic thing between us, it's hard not to feel like I'm not being kept out for a reason." When he went to speak, she hurriedly added, "I know it's for my protection. Bad consequences, etc. But it sucks sometimes, you know?" She gazed out at the view, twin flags of color on her cheeks as she spoke her truth. "Being on the outside, looking in."

The words lodged in his gut. He heard what she didn't say. The feelings of not being worthy, of being found wanting. Maybe that's even why she pushed so hard to know more about their world—because it hurt to be kept out. It tore him up, shredded something inside him, knowing she felt that way. Bright, bold Leah with more shadows than he'd ever guessed.

"God, shut me up now." She made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, leaning out over the railing to look at the ground below. "I wonder if I could make that."

He tugged her back, unsure if she was joking. Words jumbled in his head, along with a fiery burn in his throat. But he knew he wanted to fix this, ease her pain.

With one hand on hers, he led her to the striped outdoor couch Mrs. Q had conjured for him. He gently pushed her down and stepped back against the railing. He needed some space for this. The breeze ruffled his hair, felt cool against his skin.

"My parents," he said, a hitch in his voice, "were the first Goodnights in hundreds of years to make a mark. They'd come from generations of pampered aristocrats who used their—" he hesitated, forced himself to say it "—magic for nothing but their own convenience. An attitude many of the Higher families share today."

She sat still, hands braced on the cushions. He focused on her fingernails—pink and yellow, happy colors—as he continued. "They wanted to be different, make a difference, and forged a completely unique company." His thumb smoothed his signet ring. "They wanted to help. Nobody dared to naysay them; when you have bloodlines like ours, you can get away with almost anything."

"Even being a jackass?"

"You'd have to talk to Kole about that," he said pleasantly.

She shot him a semi-warning look. "Go on. Your parents formed the company."

"Yes. As I said, they were determined to help. And they did—we do, in the company that carries their name." He tightened his fingers, took a breath. "But they met a stumbling block in me."

It felt like wrenching open a rusted door without magic: painful, a lot of effort. But he wanted, needed, to do this for her. "I was their firstborn. Their living legacy. They hoped to have a child to be proud of. I did not live up to their ideal."

"You?" Doubt underscored the word.

"Yes. I slacked off, pulled pranks. Generally, I behaved like the spoiled, proud warlocks they'd wanted nothing to do with. They despaired."

"Sounds like a typical teenager."

"Except I behaved that way up until they died." He lifted his chin, prepared to take her disgust. "They wanted more from me, but I couldn't be bothered to fulfill their wishes. I didn't want to go into the family business."

"What did you want to do?"

Her question made him stop. "I'm not sure."

"Nobody ever asked you?"

"They made it clear they expected that I follow their footsteps."

Her painted fingernails tapped. "When did they—can I ask when they...passed?"

A hard ball was stuck in his throat. It made breathing difficult. "I was eighteen. They'd been visiting with a human hospital in South America and a rebel band stormed through. They were shot."

Her face went white. So did her fingers around the cushion. "Gabriel. I'm... I don't know what to say."

"Melly was only two," he said softly, turning to watch the lights across the way. "She barely remembers them, but I know they'd be proud of her."

"They'd be proud of you, too."

"I promised myself they would be." He counted the lights. "I swore I'd live up to their expectation. Even to the point of coming here and mopping floors in an animal shelter."

He sensed her before her hand slid into his. Unsure, he looked down where their fingers interlinked before looking back at her. Her expression was fierce.

"You're not a disappointment," she told him.

"I caused them pain when I didn't live up to my potential."

She made a noise. "You were a kid. You're allowed to make mistakes, decide who you are. They should've let you, not focused more on a cause than their child." Her eyes suddenly rounded. "Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to badmouth your parents. It's just... I didn't get to be a free teenager, either. My mom and all. Kids should have a childhood, you know? To be reckless or wild or whatever."

"Hence your corruption of Melly." But her words chimed against something cold and hard he'd harbored for years.

She squeezed his hand. "You're a great brother. A great son. A passable lover." The droll look he sent her made her laugh. "And for what it's worth, I think anyone with that much expectation piled on them would have rebelled more than you did. A few pranks?" She puffed out a breath. "Please. What matters is that you grew into the man you are. And a disappointment he isn't."

He lifted her hand to his mouth. Kissed her knuckles. "Thank you." He wasn't sure he fully believed her, but it meant something that she believed it. And she did; every word shone in her eyes. It prompted him to admit softly, "I've never felt good enough either."

That truth tangled them together like strings that would never be unknotted.

She watched him with those eyes, deep, drowning blue. "Thank you for letting me in."

"You're welcome."

Her small laugh settled inside him. He adjusted his grip and backed toward the entrance to the apartment. "It's still early. Stay with me tonight?"

"I'll need to go grab the dogs."

He sighed, more for form than anything else. "Only for you."