Chapter 19

~Justin

I wake up on the floor of Gabe"s office under the cover from his bed, but he"s gone. Not that I expect him to be there, but I can"t help smelling the cover, thinking about what it would be like to sleep in bed with him, wake up with him. Damn. I need to wake the hell up.

I go to put the cover back and don"t find Gabe in his bedroom though it"s pretty early. He"s not anywhere else in the apartment. He must have gone out. I groan. After how I found him last night, I"d rather he was here so I could see for myself he"s OK.

As I"m about to text him, I go to my room and just stop in the doorway. Gabe is in there, sleeping on my bed. I"m stunned and just staring at him. That lasts for about a minute and then I want to climb in there with him.

I groan and rub my hands over my face. That"s enough to wake up Gabe. He stares around him then at me. "Oh, I took your bed, I guess," he says, his voice extra deep from sleep.

"That"s OK, it"s morning," I tell him.

He swings his legs out of bed and I find myself wishing he had gotten naked before he climbed in there. "I just meant to lie down for a minute," he says, but that doesn"t really explain much.

"How are you feeling?" I ask since he seems kind of out of it.

He only shakes his head. It was a dumb. The grim look on his face changes. He frowns and looks confused. "I don"t usually sleep like this." He turns to look at my bed like that"s why.

I"m making coffee when Gabe comes into the kitchen with his hair wet from the shower. "I"m glad you didn"t leave," he says.

I could hardly leave him now. He takes some black coffee with him to his office and I hover around. It"s not like I can forget that he had a gun in his hand.

After a while, Gabe notices my hovering and asks, "What is it?"

"The gun," I tell him straight out.

"It"s in the safe," he tells me but seeing that I"m still frowning at him, he realizes that"s not good enough. "I"ll store it somewhere else. OK?"

"I guess," I say, but I can"t help thinking how all I needed was a high place to step off from and the will to do it.

"You don"t need to worry about me using that gun on myself. I have a reason to live. I"m going to find out who helped Thompson," Gabe says. "Now let"s go out for lunch."

"It"s too early," I point out.

"Did you have breakfast?" he asks accusingly.

"No, and neither did you," I point out.

"Then it"s not too early. Let"s go."

Gabe doesn"t say where we"re going for lunch, just drives, but the drive takes us right out of town. "How far is this restaurant?" I ask as he keeps driving between low hills and fenced fields.

"You said it was early for lunch, remember," Gabe says.

I shrug. It"s not like I care where we eat or how far it is. I kind of like the smooth drive, the growl of an engine of an expensive car. My eyes stray to Gabe"s thighs, the muscles I can see flex, that I want to feel up, straddle.

I try to distract myself with the view rushing by outside my window, but no view can compete with Gabe. I have to ball up my fists to keep myself from reaching over to feel how steely firm his muscles are and to check if anything else might be hard.

I keep thinking he might drive off the road, pull over somewhere to bend me over with my face in the dirt and fuck the hell out of me. He doesn"t and my face heats at how frustrated I"m getting. What the hell has Gabe done to me?

Eventually we do arrive, but the place is actually a fancy hotel that looks like a mansion on top of a hill. The view is amazing. The dining room windows are huge and let us see in every direction.

The food is carefully arranged on the plates in small amounts but they keep bringing more. I end up eating more than I expected. It does taste interesting though I don"t always know what I"m eating. Gabe only eats when I glare at him.

When we"re done, I wonder if he might take a room here. I almost ask him, but then Gabe walks out. He goes past his car and takes us on a long walk along a footpath that takes us to a stone bridge. No one else is around since there is a covered bridge closer to the hotel that we passed up. That"s where all the tourists are.

As we linger on the simple, stone bridge, I ask, "So why are we out here?"

"Maybe I think I should treat you better," Gabe says.

I don"t know what to say to that. I just stare straight ahead where the river curves and try not to think about what I want from him. There is nothing I should want. He"s a guy, he"s my stepbrother. I shouldn"t want anything from anyone, much less him.

Then my thoughts start to stray, turn to something darker. It"s the water below us. I look down at its depths and suddenly I can"t even breathe as I think about her submerged, trapped under water with him.

I shut my eyes, but I still see my mother, water rising around her. I want to jump in after her, to save her, or to join her, to not be left behind. I don"t know how long I just stare at the river, lost to so much pain.

Finally, Gabe"s voice breaks through, telling me, "Whatever you are thinking about, it"s like you"re buried alive under it. Stop."

His hand is on my arm, almost like he"s restraining me, like he knows what I was thinking. I turn and glare at him. "I hope you don"t expect me to talk about it."

It"s too hard to look at him so I look away again. Meeting his gaze is always unnerving, too much like he can see things about me I don"t want him to know. I can"t take that right now.

"Would you rather talk about Royce?" he challenges me.

I wheel on him. "You want to know about Royce?! He saved me from getting gang raped! You happy now that you know?!"

As soon as I stop yelling, I start struggling to breathe. Why did I tell him that? I"m swaying, grabbing the railing of the bridge, wanting to jump.

"I"m sorry. You never have to tell me anything," Gabe says and places his hand over mine like he wants me to keep holding on.

Slowly, Gabe comes closer. His arms go around me but he"s almost not touching me. My head down, I"m staring at his chest. After a minute I realize he isn"t breathing. I put my hand on his chest and feel his heart beating, racing. This is because of me.

Letting my head drop on his shoulder I sob, "Sorry. I know you have your own stuff."

Gabe strokes my back gently. "That doesn"t mean I don"t want to hear whatever you have to tell me," he says. "I know I"m not easy to talk to. I shut everyone out. More since Derrick died, but I"ve been doing it all my life. It"s just the way I am. But I still want you to be able to talk to me, even if no one else can."

That sounds weird to me, like I"m closer to him than anyone else, but that can"t be right. That can"t be true, can it?