by Elise Faber
Perhaps because instinctively she understood that this was a man who could help her shoulder her burdens.
Or more likely, because his kiss had addled her.
Regardless, when he took her hand and suggested they eat at a new restaurant without her using her ninja sleuth skills to Yelp the hell out of it, she agreed without protest. With Gabe by her side, it was easier to step outside of her carefully laid boundaries.
Especially if he kept smiling down at her like he’d done when she said yes.
Yup. Definitely addled.
That was for damn sure.
“Gabe?” she asked as he drove them out of the parking lot.
“Yeah?”
She nibbled at the corner of her mouth then figured, in for a penny, in for a pound. “What does it mean?”
Silence then, “What does what mean?”
“Gabe,” she warned
He pulled to the side of the road and turned to face her. “It means what you want it to be, Rebecca.”
It wasn’t a rejection, but those words were still a gut punch.
And . . . it was putting the pressure on her to identify what was happening between them.
“That’s not fair.”
“I don’t want to force you to—”
“What? Kiss you?” she asked, turning in her seat as well, wanting to see his face, his eyes. And if that right there didn’t tell her how far she’d come, then she didn’t know what could. “I liked it,” she said. “I liked kissing you. What I don’t like is not understanding where this came from. For four months—”
“I’ve been pretending I didn’t want you.”
Her lungs froze. “You were pretending?” Sick. She was going to be sick.
“No, sweetheart,” Gabe said, snagging her wrists when she would have leaned back in her seat. “No, not like that. But I was pretending that I didn’t want you. I didn’t want to pressure you to—”
She shrieked.
It was a legit shriek and also a sound she hadn’t made in approximately twenty years. Not since she was a hormonal teenager who’d been prone to shrieking in frustration.
But, dammit, it wasn’t fair.
“No, Gabe,” she said. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to tell me you want friendship and then pull the rug out from underneath me. You don’t get to pretend to want me only as a buddy one moment and then kiss the daylights out of me the next.”
“I wanted to give you time,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, held it for a moment, then released it. “I understand that. I appreciate it. But I’m not broken.”
Funny how until she’d said the words aloud, she’d never believed them.
She wasn’t broken.
She was imperfect, yes.
But so was everyone.
She wasn’t broken.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I pulled my head out of my ass four months ago,” Gabe said. “But I didn’t think it was fair for me to be a dick one minute then try to get in your pants the next. You deserved someone taking the time to get to know you, to see the wonderful person you are when you forget to be shy.”
“I needed four months of that?”
He grinned. “So, maybe four months was overkill?”
She snorted. “Yeah, about three months too many.”
“It was a long time,” he said and tugged on a strand of her hair. “But honestly . . .”
“What?” she pressed when he hesitated.
“Honestly, if I’d approached you four—or three—months ago, would you have been open to dating me?”
Her lips parted, an agreement on the tip of her tongue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because he was right. It had taken her four months to learn him as a friend, to understand how wonderful he was, to feel comfortable enough to not freak out because he’d kissed her.
“Are you even open to dating me now?”
She froze, bit her lip. Was she? Could she really be like she was and have a relationship with someone? Especially when that someone was as important to her as Gabe had become?
He chucked her under the chin. “Is this where I get to say I’m right?”
She lightly smacked his hand away. “It’s where you get to drive, and I get to think.”
“I can do that.”
Rebecca knew he could.
She knew he could do a lot of things, including peeling back the layers of her shyness and fear and anxiety, and coaxing her forward into finally living a full life.
Thus was the power of Dr. Gabe Carter.
The only question was . . . could she follow through?
Eleven
Gabe
It was over cashew cheese—and Gabe was man enough to admit that he’d developed a liking for the vegan delicacy—that Rebecca finally met his eyes.
She hadn’t been avoiding them, per se, so much as being so into whatever thoughts were going through her head that her gaze hadn’t much drifted up past her menu or plate or hands. When he’d ordered for her, she’d given him a brief smile, though those eyes were still distant, and the same went for when their server had brought their food and drinks.
Aware of the outside world and yet not really.
But he didn’t mind the quiet. He’d come to appreciate the fact that Rebecca didn’t need to fill the silence with conversation.
“Gabe,” she murmured, then immediately bit her lip, worry creeping into the edges of her expression.
“I know four months was a long time.” He reached across the table to take her hands in his. “We’ve spent a lot of time getting to know each other,” he murmured. “We were both careful, and that was a good thing.”
Head tilting to the side, she asked, “Careful how?”
“Careful to keep things light between us. To get to know each other slowly and easily without bringing up a lot of the stuff that”—a squeeze—“would have complicated the process.” She frowned and so he hurried on. “I’ve spent more time with you than most women in my life, and yet I don’t know much about your upbringing or family. I know your preferred type of tea, the brand of chocolate you indulge in. I know that you dislike orange juice with pulp even though it’s better for you, and I know your favorite pair of jeans is embroidered with tiny blue flowers.” His heart was pounding, but he kept talking. “I know so much about you, and yet I don’t know the why.”
She turned her hands over in his, lacing their fingers together. That worry no longer just on the edges of her face. “It’s all been superficial.”
Gabe winced. “No. I didn’t mean—”
A shake of her head. “Sorry, poor word choice. I understand it’s important you know the small things, and I agree that I know the same about you. I guess . . . I mean, we both shared the stuff we were willing, but a lot of our walls are still there.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t argue with that.
She sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, Gabe.”
His heart sank and he started to lean back, fingers separating.
“No,” she said, tilting forward, keeping their hands together. “I don’t mean it like that. You’re wonderful. I just—” Her gaze dropped to the table. “I never thought I would be able to be in a relationship.”
“What? How?” He released one hand, cupped her cheek. “You’re beautiful and smart and—”
“Have crippling anxiety,” she murmured. “Don’t forget that fact. I should think it’s one you’re well-familiar with by now.”
“I—”
“Therapy helped. I’ve gotten a lot better,” she said. “The life I’m living right now is bigger than I could have ever imagined, and part of that is because you expanded it. My job, my friends, you. I . . . didn’t think I’d ever have that.”
“But—”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who I’ve wanted to spend so much time with,” she murmured. “I can talk to you.” She laughed. “Me. The person who sometimes struggles to get out a sentence if it doesn’t re
volve around plant proteins and cashew cheese. I can just sit down at a restaurant I’ve never been to and talk and eat and enjoy it.”
“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. I’m glad I can do that with you.”
Rebecca’s head jerked. “But don’t you see? It’s because of you. Because we’ve taken this time and slowly gotten to know each other that I can do it. If you hadn’t—” Another jerk. “I-I would still—”
“That’s what people do,” he said. “They take their time to learn one another.”
“And it takes four months?” she asked.
“Four months isn’t that long a time.”
She rolled her eyes. “It is if you spend part of almost every day together.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But it’s not just you or your anxiety that’s made us move slowly. I haven’t exactly been open to something deeper myself.”
“And I don’t know why.” She pulled away, covering her forehead with her hands. “If you were pretending for so long to not want something when you really do want it, then how do I know you’re not pretending to want me now when really you want something, someone whole and undamaged and easy?” She blew out a breath. “I didn’t know that you wanted more, Gabe. I had absolutely no clue, and that it’s been happening for four months . . . ?”
His stomach was in knots. He understood where she was coming from and yet had no clue how to move past it.
“It just doesn’t make any sense, Gabe.”
He knew it didn’t, knew it was confusing and a little scary—because he was feeling those things, too. He was quiet for a long moment then said the only thing he could, “Do you trust me?”
Her hands dropped to the table, her head tilted up so he got to see those pretty green eyes. They were wide, panic in their depths, and it hurt his heart to know he was the cause.
But that was a hurt he’d endure, because she nodded and murmured, “Yes.”
“Good,” he said, standing and tossing a few bills on the table. “Come with me.”
Then he took her hand and led her to the only place he knew could make her understand.
The cemetery.
Twelve
Rebecca
It was a beautiful night for a graveside visit.
Perhaps that was a morbid thing to think, but with the full moon shining down on the graves, gilding them in silver while softening the hard edges of the grass and trees, everything was quiet and still.
But not relaxed.
Gabe was as un-relaxed as a person could get without saying anything. His jaw hard, shoulders stiff, spine straighter than a flag pole, to say nothing of his expression, which was icy.
He’d taken her hand, weaving their fingers together in a gentle grip, but with every step they took through the damp grass, he seemed to grow more rigid.
Then he stopped and her breath disappeared.
“Maggie,” he murmured. “I want you to meet Rebecca.”
She froze. “Gabe?”
He tugged her a little closer, so she was standing in front of the headstone and could read the inscription.
Margaret Helen Jones, Beloved Fiancée and Friend
“She didn’t have any family except for me,” he murmured, brushing some leaves from the granite and revealing the date she’d died on had been close to a decade before. “There was a group of us that were close in high school and college, but after Maggie died, it was . . . well, she’d been the glue. I was lost for a long time.”
“How did she—?” She broke off, thinking it wasn’t the most sensitive question to ask at a moment like this.
“Cancer.”
Rebecca winced. “I’m so sorry.”
“I loved her.”
She touched his arm. “I can tell.”
“We were supposed to get married.”
Fuck. She’d known it, based on what he’d told her, what was written on the gravestone, but hearing the words out loud, the sadness embedded in those words. “I’m . . . shit, it sounds so cliché to just say sorry, but—”
“It was a tragedy,” he murmured. “She was a wonderful soul.” His eyes came to hers. “And why I stayed in medicine even after she was gone.”
“You wanted to help people,” Rebecca said.
“Yes. I got my degree, finished my residency, but couldn’t stand working in a hospital setting.”
“Did it remind you of her?”
He nodded. “Too much. I couldn’t bear it, so when the opportunity came to work for the Gold, I jumped for it.”
“How did that happen?”
“During my residency, I made friends with an orthopedic surgeon. We worked together a lot, and turned out I had a knack for hammering and screwing bones back together.” He shrugged, a grin playing on the corners of his mouth. “His brother was a doctor with the group that worked for the Panthers. I stayed there for a few months, and he recommended me to the Gold when the opening came.” Another shrug. “I got a lucky break.”
“I know about lucky breaks,” she murmured. “Mandy met me at a conference and recommended me to the leadership. I’d always dreamed I’d be working with elite athletes, but didn’t think I’d make it this far. It’s been really rewarding, though. The guys”—she laughed softly—“well, I was going to say they don’t complain. But they do, of course. They just usually do what I advise after they finish complaining.”
Gabe smiled. “That they do. So at this conference, did Mandy corner you and force you to do her bidding?”
Her smile mirrored his. “Basically.”
“She’s good at that.”
Rebecca nodded. “That she is.” A pause then gently, “I’m truly sorry about Maggie. It sounds like you were lucky to have had each other.”
“Four months ago, I wouldn’t have agreed with you.” He led her to a bench tucked beneath an old tree. “Four months ago, I would have said it was the worst experience of my life, having her then losing her.” He rotated to face her. “I loved her, but not in the way a man should love a woman. She was my best friend and I proposed because, yes, I loved her, but also because she was dying, because she would never be a doctor like she’d dream of. Because at least then I could give her one of her dreams.”
“To get married?”
He nodded. “But in the end, I couldn’t even give her that.”
“So, you decided to be a doctor? To help people.”
“I was already Pre-Med,” he said. “So it wasn’t totally altruistic. But yes, I knew very intimately what it would mean if I’d given up just because I was working eighty hours a week on little to no sleep.”
“Just that?” Rebecca asked lightly and then because of everything he’d shared, and because it was impossible not to, she hugged him. “Oh, Gabe.”
“I didn’t tell you all that for sympathy,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in return. “Though I’ll take this hug all day, every day.” He pulled back slightly and grinned down at her for a split second, after which his face returned to serious. “I told you because there was a reason I was a jerk. You look like her, Rebecca. On the outside—your hair is almost the exact shade of red, your eyes a similar color of green, but it’s more than that,” he added quickly when she sucked in a breath. “Because the biggest similarity is in here”—he touched her temple—“and here”—her heart—“You were both quiet, gentle souls. And yet, you both always sparked a fire within me.”
Rebecca took a shaky breath, gently touched his cheek. “You can’t say things like that.”
“It’s the truth,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful inside and out.” His lips curved slightly. “Even if you do like cashew cheese.”
She blinked back tears, forced a smile. “You like it, too.”
“Maybe.” His lips brushed her cheek.
“Also, you’re uncommonly annoying.”
He laughed, brushed his thumb across her lips. “And there’s that spice I love so much.”
“Gabe,” she said on a shiver.
/> “I know,” he murmured, eyes hot and making heat spiral in her center. “And here’s me laying it all out there. I’m not asking for you to make a commitment, or for you to bind your soul with mine.” He squeezed her hand. “All I’m asking is that we give ourselves the opportunity to explore the connection between us.”
Her heart was pounding, terror mixed with longing. She wanted to run, to crawl back into her safe little shell, and she wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss him senseless.
But this was Gabe.
And he’d been honest with her, so she owed it to him to give the same in return.
Her words were shaky. “I don’t know if I can be what you deserve.”
“I’m just asking you to be you.”
“Gabe.”
“That’s it, sweetheart.” He cupped her cheek. “I want you as you are.”
Maybe it was what he shared, or perhaps it was that glorious Dr. Gabe Carter power again, or maybe, it was that for the first time in her life, she’d finally found the courage to go for something she wanted.
Thirteen
Gabe
“Absolutely not,” Rebecca said a few days later, glaring up at him in the hall of the rink, arms crossed, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed. “We are not having a pizza party in the middle of the playoff push—”
“The guys hit their goal,” he reminded her, watching those pretty green irises spark fire. “They need a reward.”
She tapped her foot, not quite a stomp but getting there, and he had to resist the urge to lean down and kiss her. “A reward is not salty meat products and greasy-phthalate-laced cheese.”
“How about just a little of that salty meat?” He held up his thumb and forefinger, just the slightest bit apart.
“A little—” She gasped then seemed to realize he was teasing her.
God, she’s pretty, he thought as her hands came up to grip his shoulders, jostling him lightly. She was just too fucking much, her mouth opening and closing in outrage. “You’re—”
“Teasing,” he supplied. “The phase two guys are going to wait for their next cheat day. And they promised me they’d go easy on the meat.”