“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Red noses and wigs,” I deadpan.
“Oh God, don’t,” she groans. “I don’t want to be reminded of that fiasco.”
I begin to snicker. “Only you would screw a clown.”
“Hey, out of the clown suit, he was hot as hell,” she says defensively.
“But he wasn’t out of his clown suit—or at least not all of him when you two got caught,” I remind with a laugh.
“Shut it!” She glares at me, and then the corners of her lips twitch before she begins to snicker.
Eight
Harper
I’m determined to go to work the following morning. Once again, I bathe in the tub so that I can be careful not to get my arm wet. I’d set my alarm for earlier than usual so that I could take my time getting ready without being in anyone’s way. I wait until I’m dressed in my scrubs before I study the bandage on my arm. It’s looking ragged, and I can see through the white gauze where the stitches had oozed.
My stomach churns.
I can handle wounds on animals or other people, but not when it comes to myself. Not to mention the cut hurts quite a bit already since I’m taking regular pain reliever instead of the stronger stuff. I want a clear head so that I can properly function and do my job.
As much as I dread leaning on Gabe for further assistance, it makes more sense to allow him to clean and dress the wound. He’d already offered, so I might as well take him up on it.
After I put on a little makeup, I check to make certain that my new phone is in my spare purse. Then, I grab my backpack with a change of clothes inside it before heading down to the kitchen. At least once a week I end up changing before coming home because my scrubs had animal urine, vomit, or feces on them.
I can smell the coffee before I reach the kitchen, and upon entering, I see Gabe is at the stove, his back to me.
He’s also shirtless.
I can barely handle a fully-dressed Gabe on a regular day.
Damn.
My arm should be cleaned and securely wrapped, so without much choice, I step further into the kitchen and set my purse and bag on the island counter.
Gabe looks over his shoulder at me. “Morning. How’s the arm?”
Before I reply, I walk to the coffee maker. A clean mug is already waiting for me, and I pick up the pot and begin filling the mug. “It’s okay,” I murmur while I avoid looking at him. “I think I’m going to need that help if you don’t mind.”
“I figured as much. We can clean it after you eat.”
I move to the refrigerator and grab my favorite creamer. “Coffee’s fine. I don’t usually eat much in the morning anyway.” After I pour the creamer, I put it back and pick up the mug, stirring its contents with a spoon.
“I just made you an omelet,” Gabe informs me.
My eyes swing to his. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He transfers a giant omelet onto a plate. “You should start your day with a full stomach. Sit,” he says lightly.
With an inward sigh, I settle onto a stool at the island. I’d had no idea that he’d make me breakfast this morning. It’s not that I’m not pleasantly surprised, but it just stalls my need to get out of the house and away from his bare chest.
Gabe walks over and sets the plate and fork in front of me. “I think I got it right. Ham, cheddar, green peppers, and mushrooms?” he asks expectantly.
I look up at him, amazed that he’d taken note of how I prefer my omelets.
He gives me a panty-melting smile.
My insides quiver, and I try to ignore all the bare skin on display directly in front of me. I drop my eyes to the plate, picking up the fork. “Thank you. Though I’m never going to be able to eat all this. How many eggs did you put in it?” I inquire.
“Four.” In the corner of my eye, I see him moving away. “You should eat more. You always take small helpings, and that can’t be very filling.”
I blink, and my head lifts so my eyes can focus on him once more. His back is to me as he begins to clean the mess on the counter and stove. “I’m a woman, remember? We watch our weight,” I remind.
His head turns, and his eyes snag mine. “Harper, curves are never a bad thing, especially on you,” he says as his eyes burn into mine.
A fluttery feeling develops in my lower belly as a tension-filled silence takes over the kitchen. Gabe’s demeanor towards me has changed the past few days, and I don’t know how to handle it.
I quickly turn away to dig into my omelet. The past few years, Gabe’s been content to stay in the background, taking his cues from me. I certainly hadn’t given him any reason to initiate conversations. Now, in the past few days, we’ve spoken more than we have all year. I hate to admit it, but it feels good—but also has me on edge.
“Good?”
I start when I find Gabe standing on the opposite side of the island, looking at me expectantly. It’s as if he’s taunting me with his bare chest, and I try to avoid looking at the rigid muscles on display. Back in high school, he’d been more lean than muscular. Now, he’s grown into a strong, muscular, sexy man.
My eyes lift to his. “Pardon?” I ask, forgetting what he’d just asked me.
If he knows how much I’m struggling with his state of undress, he doesn’t show it. “The omelet,” he replies.
“Yes, it’s really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll go grab what we’ll need for your arm. Where did you put them?”
I’m still struggling with the conversation. “They’re in the upstairs bathroom.”
Gabe nods and leaves the kitchen.
As soon as he’s gone, I shake my head and blow out a frustrated breath. I need to pull myself together. This is why I need to move out. How am I supposed to find another man attractive when Gabe’s here at the house, looking the way that he does? I can’t help it, I love his hair and miss the fullness of it when I used to run my hands through it. And those eyes, I could drown in them when I look into their gray depths. I miss the way he used to kiss me, the way he’d touch me... No one has ever made me feel the way that he does, and a familiar ache makes itself known deep within my chest.
When Gabe returns, I’m relieved that he has a shirt on, and he sets the items he’d retrieved on the island counter.
I push away the half-eaten omelet. “It was delicious, but I’m full,” I tell him apologetically.
“I’ll finish it after we clean your arm.” He settles onto the stool beside mine. “Ready?”
I take a much-needed sip of coffee before turning and giving him my arm. “I’m not sure I want to see it,” I say honestly.
He gently takes my arm in his warm hands. “It’s going to look pretty rough,” he agrees. He’s careful as he begins to unwrap it, and when he gets to the point where the cut had wept, causing the gauze to stick to the stitches, my breath hisses.
Gabe’s eyes hold mine. “I’m being as gentle as I can.”
“I know.”
Once the gauze is removed, I stare with a sickening sense of fascination. The long cut looks grotesque with the skin stitched closed. It’s a horrific sight, and my stomach turns over. I yank my eyes from it and look across the room, staring aimlessly. I’m forever going to be scarred from that night, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
“Harper? You okay?” Gabe asks quietly.
I silently nod. I have this sudden urge to cry, but I hold back the tears. So I’ll be scarred; I’ll get over it. It’s better than being dead.
“I’m going to dampen the washcloth and clean the skin around the stitches. Before I rewrap it, I’ll apply some Vaseline. It’ll help,” he explains.
“Okay.”
He’s quiet as he works, and he’s so gentle that the pain is minimal. After my arm is securely wrapped in gauze, he adds medical wrap to help protect it.
“Eventually, you’ll have to keep it uncovered except at work. That way it can heal
properly.”
I nod and smile gratefully. “Thanks, Gabe.”
“I work tonight, but if you’re up late, come find me. I’ll switch out the bandage before you go to bed.”
I nod once more and reach for my bag and purse. “Thanks, see you later.”
When I step outside, I find my car in the driveway—just as Gabe had promised. I’m relieved to be back to my normal routine, and maybe I’ll begin to sleep better. I’d had a nightmare last night, and I’d slept with my lamp on. This morning, I’d felt a little childish over it, but having the light on had helped.
When I arrive at the animal clinic, I’m engulfed in hugs from my coworkers. Their kindness is heartwarming, and after I assure them that I’m fine, things calm and go back to normal.
I happen to be restocking an exam room when Brandie peeks in. When she spies me, she steps inside and closes the door behind her. “Here,” she says, pulling out what looks like a pink tampon from her pants pocket. “You can put it on your key ring,” she explains.
I accept it with puzzlement. It’s made of durable plastic with a ring attached to the end.
Brandie laughs when she notes my expression. “Yeah, I know. It looks like a tampon, but it’s really mace.”
“Oh,” I exclaim with a smile. “Thank you. I’ll definitely keep it close,” I promise.
Her hazel eyes search mine. “How are you really doing?”
“I’m still shaken,” I confess.
“Me too. I don’t look at dark streets the same anymore.”
“Me neither.”
***
After work, I drop by a store to restock my groceries. As I shop, I find myself looking over my shoulder if someone seems to be lingering in the aisle behind me. I’ve never felt uncomfortable in public before, but today, I find myself on edge. I know it’s just my nerves from the attack, but it’s difficult to relax.
The uncomfortable feeling remains, and when I reach my car in the parking lot, I load up my groceries as fast as I can. It isn’t until I reach the house and carry my things into the kitchen that I begin to feel safe.
Sebastian happens to be digging through the refrigerator. As soon as he sees me, he quickly closes the door and walks over. He plucks the bags out of my arms and sets them on the counter before drawing me into a warm hug. “Hey, luv. I heard what happened,” he murmurs.
It feels good to be held, and I hug him back. “I’m fine,” I assure him.
He pulls back and frowns down at me, his blue-green eyes dropping to my arm. “Gabe said it was bad.”
“It was, but I’ll heal,” I say easily, keeping my tone light.
His eyes lift back to mine, and he looks at me intently. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. I promise.”
He nods, and his expression shifts. “What are your plans for tonight?”
I shrug, moving to the groceries as I begin pulling them from the bags. “I’ll probably stay in.”
“If you want to party, you should make sure you’re with me or one of the guys. You can hang with me tonight if you want,” he offers.
“Watching you hit on women isn’t my idea of a good time,” I muse.
He folds his arms across his chest, looking amused. “Not with me. I’d just look out for you, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes and put a bag of apples in the refrigerator. “I don’t need protecting.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t hurt to have others concerned about your safety.”
“True, and thank you. I’ll probably stay in tonight anyway,” I tell him.
“If you change your mind, let me know. The invites always there,” he offers. He snitches a banana from the counter, winks, and saunters off.
The rest of the evening drags on.
Out of sheer boredom, I decide to go to bed early. This means cleaning the cut myself and trying not to let the sight bother me. When I eventually climb into bed, I lie there for what feels like forever until I nod off only to be awakened by a nightmare. As I try to calm my pounding heart, I turn on my lamp and squint.
The alarm clock says it’s three in the morning.
I’m relieved that the night is halfway over, but I still should try to get at least another four hours of sleep.
Five minutes go by.
Then ten.
After fifteen, I sigh loudly.
I’m hungry, so I might as well get up and eat something. I’ve never been prone to midnight snacking, but right now, I’m craving the ice cream I’d bought earlier.
The house is completely dark, and I’m quiet as I enter the kitchen and turn on the overhead light above the sink. It gives the kitchen a nice, cozy glow, and I take a bowl from the cupboard and scoop three heaping spoonful’s of ice cream into it.
I’ve always preferred the island over the table, so I settle in and begin eating the mint chocolate chip ice cream. Instead of thinking about the attack, I direct my thoughts on tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so I have the entire day to do whatever. At this point, I don’t have any plans.
My thoughts inevitably shift to how I’d felt at the store. I’d hated feeling so vulnerable, and I frown as I push around the ice cream with my spoon. The longer it takes me to get back into the swing of things, the harder it’s going to be. Quinn would likely go out with me tomorrow night, but I know how that’ll end. She’ll find a guy she’s interested in, but then she’ll be torn about not wanting to leave me on my own. Then, in turn, I’ll feel guilty for holding her back. Maybe I should take Sebastian up on his offer. I wouldn’t interfere with his or the guys’ night, and they wouldn’t interfere with mine. They’d just be in the background, doing their own thing.
When I hear a toilet flush down the hall from the kitchen, my eyes swing towards the doorway. Had I woken someone?
A second later, Gabe peers into the kitchen. He blinks with surprise when he sees me. “Everything okay?”
Definitely not.
He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of red briefs, and in the soft lighting, I can see every angle of his body, and it’s currently burning its image to my memory. I’d thought Gabe was sexy as a teenager, but the man that stands before me is so much more. His body is athletically muscular, and his hard chest narrows into rigid abs and a trim waist with a distinct ‘V’ at his hips. The briefs do nothing to hide what he’s packing between his legs, and I remember just what he looks like beneath that fabric. I recall the velvety feel of him, his taste, his...
Shit
I yank my eyes from his body to focus on my ice cream. “Yes, everything’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep.” Now go away, I mentally add.
Instead of succumbing to my mental wishes, he enters the kitchen and drags out a stool, settling onto it. “How’s the arm?”
If I had known Gabe would find me in here, I never would have come down in the first place. “It’s fine,” I say, still avoiding his gaze.
“You must’ve gone to bed early. Did someone help with your arm?”
The spoon clinks softly against the bowl as I scoop up some ice cream. “No, I managed it on my own.” I slip the spoon in my mouth, hoping he’ll take the hint.
“Did the Vaseline help?”
Knowing I’m going to have to look at him sooner or later, I lift my gaze and determinedly keep my eyes focused on his face. “It did. Thank you.” His hair is adorably mussed, and all I want to do is reach over and fix it for him. My hand tightens on the spoon.
“How did it go at the clinic?”
I turn my attention back to the ice cream, scooping up another spoonful. “It went okay. It was a little difficult because of my arm, but everyone was understanding about it. Brandie gave me mace,” I say with a smile.
“Smart idea.”
I nod with agreement and work on finishing off the bowl.
A momentary silence descends upon us until Gabe quietly breaks it. “You have no idea how much I regret what happened between us.”
The spoon falls from my fingers and clatters into th
e bowl as I tense. We never talk about what happened, and I don’t ever want to.
“Harper…”
I can feel his gaze burning into me, and I push off from the island counter, abruptly standing with the bowl in hand. “Don’t,” I say calmly, refusing to look at him.
He’s silent as he watches me cross the kitchen and set the bowl in the dishwasher.
“Night,” I say stiffly.
Before he can say anything further, I leave and go up to my room. Once I’m in bed, I lie there feeling uneasy. Why is Gabe bringing up old wounds? I used to be in control of our interactions, but not so much these days.
***
I’m not sure if this was a good idea, but I’m here now, so I might as well make the best of it. Sebastian had brought me to a party, and I’ve already caught sight of Rem and a few of the other guys. It’s a large gathering, but not the frat kind. There are people from the university that I recognize, but there’s plenty of older adults that look to be in their mid-twenties. The house is packed, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’ve garnered some attention from a few guys, but the crowd has me reacting with a hint of claustrophobia. I’m not about to bail and have Sebastian feel obligated to take me home, so I make my way through the throng of people and slip out the backdoor.
When I look around the backyard, I’m instantly glad that I’d gone in search of fresh air. The yard is decent in size thanks to the neighborhood the house is located in. It’s fenced, and there are trees along the back giving the illusion to privacy despite the houses nearby.
The patio I’ve stepped out on lines the back of the house, and plenty of people are lingering about as music plays at a low volume from a stereo that’d been brought outside. In the center of the yard is a large bonfire, and blankets are scattered about so people can sit—and in some cases, makeout in comfort.
A masculine laugh interrupts my thoughts as a man steps back and bumps into me. He immediately looks in my direction and gives me an apologetic smile. “Hey there, sorry.”
I politely return his smile before making my way off the patio and away from the crowd.
Blackout (Revolving Door Book 2) Page 7