29. I Swear

29

I Swear

E very night, Gabe teased and cajoled me in the ways only he could until I agreed to stay another day.

When I wasn’t curled up in Gabe’s armchair reading, I was soaking up the summer sun, meeting Bridge and the girls for coffee, and walking the beach with my shades on and my shoes off.

This morning, after dropping Dylan off at daycare and meeting with the administration about her paperwork with Gabe, I returned home, made myself a coffee, and fell into his chair.

I drummed my fingers on the armrest.

The school was satisfied to have a baseline for Dylan, explaining it would better help them to meet her needs. There was nothing glaringly obvious, and no reason to pursue further testing until grade one.

And then only if needed.

Happily, I noted Brittany had lost her position to Becky who was kind and respectful to Gabe. Apparently, Brittany had been riding her last warning.

Laying my head back, I stared at the ceiling.

With Gabe back at work, Dylan in daycare, and Marlena taking over the daily management of the restaurant, I found myself with an abundance of time on my hands.

I began scanning the want ads.

There was little left for me to do for Ayana’s other than oversee things, mostly from a distance, and kick in on the floor when needed. Marlena had already done this job, fully trained by Nan when Nan first received her diagnoses.

I paused with my mug halfway to my lips. Revelation washed over me with the faint scent of roses. I fell back into Gabe’s chair, gobsmacked.

Marlena had trained for this position under Nan .

Nan never meant for me to take over Ayana’s if I didn’t want to.

You’re going to write yourself a beautiful story, pet .

I sat up straight.

I would do it, a flash lightning of courage steeling my spine. I would write myself a beautiful story. One with Gabe and Dylan. One here in Sage Ridge close to Bridge and Harley and the girls. Doing a job I used to love, the one I left to concentrate on having a baby.

Snatching up my cell phone, I opened my notes to keep track of my thoughts and plans.

A squeak of excitement escaped my lips.

As much as I loved my Nan, her house had never really been mine. For her, it was packed with memories, both good and bad. For me, it had become a memorial to sadness and loss.

That’s not how I wanted to remember my Nan. She was full of life. Grampy used to say, eyes dancing, that she was full of piss and vinegar.

It was time to list the house.

I looked around Gabe’s.

And go all in with Gabe and Dylan.

When it came time to pick Dylan up from daycare, I fairly flew, sweeping her up into my arms and laughing out loud as she squealed a delighted ‘Hey there, Shibaby-Mommy!’

I grinned down at her cherubic face. “You don’t know whether to call me Shibaby or Mommy, do you, pet?”

She cupped her tiny palm around my cheek. “We play mommy?”

“Yes, of course,” I agreed, knowing my role well by this time.

But when we got home, she crawled into my lap. “You the big, big mommy. I the baby.”

I cuddled her close, rocking back and forth in Gabe’s chair that didn’t rock at all, soaking up the sweetness that God granted fit to gift me after a lifetime of pain.

I filled my lungs with the sweet perfume of her baby shampoo as she settled even closer.

When Gabe walked in the door at five, it was to find us like that.

“I think she’s sleeping,” I whispered.

His face creasing into concerned lines, he crossed the room and dropped to his knees beside my chair. Reaching out, he cupped his big hand around her little head. “She’s not sleeping,” he murmured. “Eyes are wide open.” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, murmuring, “She’s not warm.” His gaze flicked up to meet mine, hope and trepidation vying for dominance. “She’s just soaking up everything that is you.”

“Hey there, Daddy,” she murmured, tightening her grip on my shirt. “This mine mommy.”

“Yeah, baby girl,” he answered gruffly, pointedly avoiding my gaze.

“I—” I began.

He shook his head as he rose to his feet and ran his hand down the length of my ponytail. “No pressure, Shae-baby.”

I tipped my chin back to meet his eyes. “Gabe, I want her. And you. If you’ll have me.”

He stilled, his focus zeroing in on my face. His eyes skittered back and forth between mine. “You ready to move in?”

“Heading in that direction.”

He nodded minutely. “We can talk after we put Dilly-bar to bed.” He stroked her cheek, and she finally went to him, cuddling into his big arms.

A lesser woman would have melted.

I prided myself on the fact I only drooled a tiny bit.

“She’s tired on Friday afternoons.” He looked at me with a small grin. “I think it’s the only time she’s tired.”

“She’s amazing,” I murmured. “A ball of energy, as bright as the sun.”

“She’s going to be a big four soon,” he continued.

“Really?” I sat forward. “When is her birthday?”

“July 25 th .”

“That’s,” I counted off the days in my head. “Gabe, that’s next Saturday! That doesn’t give me much time to plan.”

I stood up and paced the length of the coffee table, excitement dancing in my veins.

“Okay,” I held my hands out, palms down. “She’s puppy mad right now. We’ll do a puppy theme.” I looked up at the ceiling, then to the front door. “I’ll make a cardboard cutout of a doghouse over the front door. We’ll have cupcakes, no, pupcakes!” I clapped my hands together, all my dreams coming to fruition in the shape of one tiny confectionary. “Cupcakes with puppy faces! Weiner dogs—”

Gabe cut me off, his face pained. “Shae-baby,” he murmured. “I never thought to run it by you. My ma has always just done it. She’s got it all planned already.”

I deflated, the wind sucked from my sails. My smile dropped like a rock. I nodded jerkily and pasted it back on. “Of course, yes, of course.”

“Next year?” he murmured.

“Yes, yes,” I nodded quickly, tears stinging my eyes. I spun toward the kitchen, intent on getting away. “Of course.”

“Shae—” he began, but I didn’t answer.

And he didn’t follow up.

Throughout dinner and Dylan’s bedtime routine, which he insisted on doing on his own, he was uncharacteristically silent.

I waited for him on pins and needles in the family room. Why did he suddenly want to put her to bed by himself? Was he having second thoughts?

Outside, the birds sang, and the distant sound of a lawn mower purred. The setting sun pouring through the window burnished the wood floors to gold and cast its golden light over the room.

Summer nights, was there anything sweeter? And yet, wrapped up as I was in anxiety, I struggled to enjoy it.

I settled back into Gabe’s chair and opened my book, determined not to jump to conclusions.

After fifteen minutes of reading the same sentence, Dylan’s bedroom door snicked shut. I followed the sound of Gabe’s steps as he walked down the stairs and through the kitchen. The fridge door opened and shut, a twist cap clanged into the sink, and his slow, heavy steps returned to me.

He plopped down on the couch and took a deep swallow of his beer.

I’d never seen him like this. Not since he failed his final exam in English. Half of me prayed there was nothing wrong, the other half prayed it was anything but my presence that was wrong. “You had a rough day.”

He picked at the corner of the label on the bottle resting on his lap. “Dad wants me to take over the shop.”

Relief slammed into me so hard it knocked the words out of my mouth before I could consider if they were the right ones. “That’s great!”

His face fell. His hands stilled. His shoulders slumped.

“You don’t want that,” I stated.

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, the bottle dangling between his fingers. He shook his head, his eyes on the floor. “The paperwork is a nightmare. And I’d have to give up my job at the fire station.”

I curled my legs under me and settled back. “Fire fighting is your dream job.”

He glanced up at me, his brow furrowed, then looked away. “It doesn’t pay, Shae. Not enough and not the way I’m doing it right now.”

“Maybe it could,” I ventured.

His head snapped up as his narrowed gaze found mine.

I should have taken it for the warning it was, but I surged ahead, carried by the wave of excitement elicited by my earlier decision.

My feet hit the floor, and I leaned forward, clapping my hands together. “Gabe, hear me out. If I’m going to face the sun, maybe you could as well.”

“Shae—”

I held my palms up as I stared off into a future where we both got our dreams. “No, listen. I know it’s hard, but the chief wouldn’t put you up for the job if he didn’t believe in you—”

“Shae—”

I smiled widely. “I know you can do it—”

“Shae,” he barked. “Stop fucking talking. Fuck!” He lurched to his feet, both hands going to his hair.

I leapt to my feet as I sucked in a breath, finally realizing the hornet’s nest I’d poked. Regret burned a hole through my stomach. My face fell. I reached out a hand. “Gabe, I’m –”

He spun on his heel and stalked toward me, jaw ground tight, blue eyes flashing fire, until we stood toe to toe.

I braced myself.

But not hard enough.

Dipping his head, he narrowed his gaze on mine. “You’re just like every-fucking-body else.”

His words sliced through me like a hot knife. I gasped, my eyes wide on his as his dagger struck home. I pressed the heel of my palm against the rapidly swelling ball of distress in my chest.

Regret flashed in his eyes almost instantly. He winced and closed his eyes, then shook his head like an angry bull as he backed away. Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he spun away with a frustrated growl. “Fuck.”

My gaze fell to the floor. I took a deep breath, pressed the pain down deep, and looked for the words to apologize.

A moment later, the front door slammed.

I fell back into my chair, my hands shaking.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I squeezed my eyes shut but the tears seeped from beneath my closed lids. The sudden weight of silence bound me, forcing me to listen to my thoughts.

I would never be enough.

Everybody leaves.

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

But I couldn’t leave. Dylan was asleep in her little bed, and Gabe had walked out.

I sat with my hands clasped in my lap, working to calm my racing heart. Calling Maeve to come sit with Dylan until Gabe got home was out of the question. This was between us. At least, it would be whenever he came home.

After an hour, the room finally shrouded in darkness, I began to worry when that might be.

I went over our conversation in my head, remembered the women who came before me, and realized where I’d gone so very wrong.

After two hours, I began to wonder if he was coming home that night at all.

I called his cell phone to no avail. Left a message he didn’t return and sent a text he didn’t read.

After three hours, I locked down my emotions and went to bed, curled up in a ball as close as possible to the edge of what I had considered my side.

The shifting of the mattress and Gabe’s warm hands reaching for me under the covers woke me.

Hot anger bubbled up and boiled over as I struggled to get away from him, breathing fire, but he held firm.

“Shh, baby, shh.” He pressed his mouth against the side of my face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pained. “It was all me, all my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

I held myself stiffly as my breathing evened out.

His mouth moved in my hair. “I overreacted.”

“Where were you?” I bit out, my body rigid as my brain struggled to wake up. “What time is it?”

“Max,” he blurted. “I went to The Beaver Dam with Max. Had a couple of beers and double the amount of coffee then came home. It’s just after one.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

My body settled against his, processing his words before my mind could catch up.

“I know I was wrong to push, but why did you react like that?” I asked softly then continued, my words coming faster as my anxiety increased. “That’s not how we handle things, Gabe. You can’t walk out. You can’t just leave. You can’t just—”

“I won’t.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I won’t do it again,” he soothed. “Next time I’ll talk it out with you. It wasn’t your fault.” He paused. “Max said you flipped a switch, and I reacted without thinking. Now that I know it’s there, I’ll be more mindful.”

My arms snaked up around his back. He was not the only one at fault. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. And I am sorry for pushing. You asked me not to, and I should have respected that.”

He blew out a breath, his big chest deflating as some of the tension bled from his form. “It’s okay, Shae-baby. You didn’t even get to tell me what got you all excited.”

I hummed, not ready to delve into that. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He stiffened and rolled away.

“Gabe?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to plant his feet on the floor. “I had to go to the school to update all of Dylan’s records today for junior kindergarten next year.”

For a while he sat silently, then braced his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. “So many mistakes.”

“You were embarrassed?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Felt bigger than that.”

Shame .

I crawled across the bed and aligned my chest to his back, my legs wrapped around his hips, my hands locked together around his abs. “You know dyslexia isn’t something you should be ashamed of, right?”

He twisted his neck to meet my eyes, his mouth twisting sardonically. “You say that, and theoretically, everyone agrees, but in practice not so much.”

“Want to tell me?” I prodded softly.

He shrugged then covered my hands with one of his. “Teachers didn’t have patience or understanding back then.”

I nodded against his back.

“Even my father struggled to understand.”

He inhaled. “You’re told you’re careless and lazy often enough it eventually sinks in.” He laughed but it was not a happy sound. “More than half the time I didn’t even understand what I’d done wrong. Sometimes felt like I spent more time in detention than I did in class.

“It’s not much better in the big bad world of adulthood. Make a mistake at my work? Somebody could get hurt. Somebody could die, Shae.”

“I understand.”

His body tensed under my hands. “Do you? Do you Shae? Because I don’t want to keep having these conversations with you. I’m happy with my job. I don’t need the stress of wondering if I’ve screwed up so fucking colossally that somebody might get hurt or lose their life, that someone’s wife or child will grieve because I can’t read, not correctly, not consistently.”

“I hear you.”

“I like my job,” he confessed. “I’m happy with how things are.”

“Then we keep things the same. I can help you with the paperwork at the garage when your dad retires.”

“I don’t want to have to depend on you,” he admitted tightly.

“I’ll be your sexy assistant,” I teased.

“You’d be the sexiest,” he grunted, squeezing my hands with his.

“We’ll have an illicit workplace affair.”

He snorted. “How can I resist an offer like that?”

Still tension wracked his frame. Finally, he sighed.

“It’s more than that. When I dropped Dylan’s papers off, they took one look at the mess I made then looked at me. All they see is ripped jeans, tattoos, and the grease under my nails. They look at me like it’s my fault she’s chaotic. And it is. I see so much of myself in her.”

A thought occurred to me. “You know Daire is the kindergarten teacher at Sage Ridge Elementary. He’ll love her. I promise.”

His eyebrows rose. “I knew he was a teacher, but I didn’t know he was the kindergarten teacher.”

He didn’t know Daire as well as I did, but he would. I’d make sure of it. And then he’d breathe easy.

Softly, so softly I barely heard him, he confessed, “I don’t want them to break her like they tried to break me.”

I tightened my hold on him. “We won’t let them.”

He scoffed and looked away for a second before immediately twisting back. “Yeah?”

I pressed a kiss to the middle of his broad back. “I swear.”