Claiming What Is Mine

by Abby Brooks

  “Gabe.”

  Oh shit.

  I cover my mouth. I didn’t mean to say his name out loud. Maybe he didn’t hear me. He was a wreck last night. He’s probably still out of it.

  “Morning, Doll.” He yawns as his arms stretch over his head, thudding against the wall.

  “Shhh. My folks will hear you.” If I wasn’t busy being completely serious, I’d be mortified that those words came out of my mouth—at my age. Whatever happened last night was a huge mistake and now I need him to leave. I mean, I feel like death as it is, I can’t begin to imagine the shit-show that would unfold if Gabe bumped into my parents on the walk of shame out of the house.

  Between the headache, upset tummy, and lack of memory, last night is fuzzy, to say the least. I can only surmise that, thanks to a little liquid lubrication no doubt, coming here seemed like a good idea at the time. My parents, along with everyone else in a twenty-mile radius, were at the reception. Which meant there was no way Gabe and I would find any privacy there. It also meant no one was here. I guess the math was simple enough. But—and I cannot emphasize this enough—I did not, I repeat, did not intend on sleeping with him. In my parents’ house. And certainly not in my childhood bed.

  “Sorry babe. Damn, I feel like I’ve been run through the ringer. How’s the eye looking this morning? Any better?”

  Gabe lifts his head for me to inspect. Half his face is swollen, and he looks absolutely pathetic. I almost don’t want him to get up, grab his pants, and get the hell out of here.

  Almost.

  “Um. You definitely have a mark.” Sitting next to me in my bed, shirtless, it’s easy to see how he earned his reputation. As a teenager, he was always in great shape. I imagine it was inevitable, with daily chores on the ranch and the work it took to be a football god. But now—at our age? No beer belly? No spare tire encircling his mid-section? He’s not even skinny-fat, like Jeff. This man has the kind of body any woman would be happy to spend time exploring…until he got bored, or they started talking about the future, anyway. For a moment, I question if he really has to go.

  What am I thinking? Of course, he has to go.

  Daddy didn’t care for Gabe when I was seventeen. And Gabe was never Jim Still’s biggest fan, either. But since I’ve been home, any time the Wildes come up in conversation—Chet’s wedding, their ranch, whatever—he and my brother James have made a special point of highlighting what a piece of work Gabe has proven himself to be.

  “Yeah, well, you should see the other guy.” Gabe’s chuckle brings me back to the present.

  “Uh, I did. We all did. He’s fine. It was you that should have seen him, maybe then you could have gotten out of the way.” I playfully elbow him in the ribs. “Now come on. You need to get your stuff and get out of here before someone catches us.”

  Gabe lets out another yawn, then presses his hand over his eye and groans in discomfort. “Two things, Doll. One, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

  “And the second?” I whisper.

  Gabe draws his brows together. “Okay, I guess we can mark the first thing as true. I have to say, that’s going to make the second thing a little awkward.”

  “Why? What is it?” If he doesn't quit stalling, I'm going to yank him out of bed myself.

  “Well, seeing as I was way past under-the-influence last night. And, uh…well, I couldn’t see to drive even if I hadn’t been…you’re kinda my ride.”

  Shit shit shit.

  He’s right. It’s hazy, but I’m beginning to remember bits and pieces. There’s a vague image of him asking if there was someplace quiet we could go to talk. I wasn’t drunk yet, and, well what can I say? As teenagers we spent so many hours in the loft of the barn, sitting on hay bales, drinking whatever we could sneak, dreaming and planning our future. Back then it was the two of us, against the world.

  Log that under stupid crap kids do.

  I guess once I was back in the relative safety of home, I let my guard down, and then, at some point, picked up that damned bottle of his.

  Log that under stupid crap adults do.

  I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “I can’t take you home. If someone here doesn’t spot us leaving together, someone at your place will surely take notice.”

  “You don’t have to take me home. My truck’s at the church.” Gabe wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. “I can call one of my brothers to pick me up if you think that would be better,” he whispers as he nuzzles my neck.

  Shit.

  It feels so right to be in his arms like this. To have his lips grazing my skin. His breath moving in my hair. Wait. What am I talking about? This is the guy that broke my heart. Only a crazy woman would think this feels right. Everything about it is wrong.

  I pull away from his grasp and lurch out of bed. “No. That would not be better. Let’s assume we manage to get you out of my room without anyone noticing. It would be weird for me to leave without saying a word to anyone. But for a Wilde to come up the drive, stop in front of the house, and then you stroll out and climb in the truck? We might as well set off a nuclear bomb.” I put my head in my hands and massage my temples while I think. “I’ll take you. But we need to be quiet, and we need to go. Now.”

  “Sure thing—let me grab my pants and we’ll scoot. Wanna stop for breakfast at Belle’s? My treat.”

  Are you kidding me? I’m trying to hide this…this thing that should never have happened, and you want to parade it around town? “Maybe some other time.”

  “Deal.” Gabe smiles, proud of himself. For what, I have no idea. “Hey,” he whispers as he leans over the edge of my bed. “Where’s my t-shirt?”

  I scan the room. “I don’t see it. Are you sure you were wearing one? Doesn’t matter, we don’t have time. If I find it, I’ll mail it to you. Now, let’s go.” I pull him out of the bed.

  Gabe hastily gathers his things while I slip on a pair of sweatpants and slide into my fuzzy slippers. As we sneak out of the house, I go full ninja, tip-toeing around, easing doors back, peering down halls, searching for signs of life. I bring my index finger to my lips. “Shhh. Follow my lead, okay?”

  Gabe has his suit jacket and patent leather dress shoes in his hands. His dress shirt hangs down over his pants, half buttoned and untucked. My God. That chest. It should be against the law for someone so selfish to look that good. I want to run my hands through the dark hair on his pecs and squeeze.

  Focus, Mer! Now is not the time for your hormones to run the show.

  His poor face is smashed and I’m sure, if he feels anything like me, he’s beyond miserable, but he doesn’t complain. “If we make it to the kitchen, we can sneak out the side door and avoid the living room,” I whisper.

  I can barely hear it, but the television is on, which means Daddy is awake. Of course, he is. It doesn’t matter what time he went to bed, the man’s been up before the sun every day since forever. Gabe and I make our way out the side door in relative silence and I sprint for the car, clicking away at the key fob without thinking about the inexorable chirp that follows. I pull the door open and slide into the driver’s seat. Safe.

  Where’s Gabe? I look back and see him scurrying across the gravel in his socks, wincing as he raises his feet in pain with each step. A minute later he opens the door and hops in, skipping the seatbelt to rub his feet instead.

  “I’m sorry about this,” I say as I back the car around and gun it down the long drive. “I’m sure you’re feeling awful right now, but—thank you. I’ll make it up to you. Somehow.”

  “I understand. You’re not ready for people to know about us yet. I get it. I’m in no rush, I’m just glad to have you back.”

  Back? Can he honestly believe one wonderfully awful mistake like last night earned him a place back in my life? I don’t care—hell, I can’t care—that being with him feels like crawling into bed after a long day. Does a warm feeling have any place in a life-altering decision? Being
with Gabe always feels right. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong.

  I clear my throat. “Gabe. About last night…”

  “Yeah, Doll?”

  “I mean, it was great, but…it can’t happen again. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “I’m afraid I’m gonna need a little help with that one.” He looks out the window. “We’re great together. We always were. Was I not? Last night…I mean, I know I was drunk, but didn’t you…?”

  “You were fine—and I definitely did.” More than once. A smile breaks across my lips. “But that’s hardly the point.”

  Gabe places his hand on my thigh. “Mer. Last night. Whatever I told you. I mean, I may not remember every detail right this moment, but I know I put it all out there. And I know every word was true. Because, well…that’s what you deserve. Please, I’m not asking for you to forgive and forget. I’m only asking you to forgive and…and give me a chance to show you I’ve changed. I feel it in my soul. I’ve missed you for as long as I can remember, and I’m not about to lose you again.”

  I take my eyes off the road and glance at him. So pathetic, sitting there half-dressed with his face swollen and bruised. Could he really be feeding me bullshit? In his condition? It’s all too much; my head throbs and my heart is tangled.

  “I don’t know. I need time to think. My life is crazy enough already. I don’t see how adding you to the mix would be a good idea.”

  “That’s not a no. I can work with that,” Gabe says confidently. “All I need is time. You’ll see.”

  Chapter Seven

  Meredith

  I drop Gabe at his truck in the empty church lot. I’m so confused, I pull away without catching whatever he’s saying as he waves goodbye. I need time. I need space. I need…to think. I have no place else to be, but can’t bear the thought of going back home to the bed we just shared, so I opt to drive. The morning is bright, and my sunglasses are no match against the strong sun, still low on the horizon. Not with this headache, anyway. My mind races, rolling through old memories of Gabe and of my life with Jeff.

  The quiet beat of a song playing on the radio catches my attention. I thought I had shut it off when we left the house, but apparently, I only twisted the knob enough to turn the volume down. It’s a familiar tune and the melody has me tapping my thumb on the steering wheel.

  Who is this? I turn the volume up to listen. Cindy Lauper? Jeez, I haven’t heard this in forever. At first, I’m happy to hum along, filled with nostalgia by the melody, but the more I actually listen to the words, the more relevance they seem to have. Time After Time. The lyrics hit me with a power I can’t describe. Is this a sign from the universe? It has to be, after everything Gabe shared last night while we stared up at the stars. His words echo as I drive.

  For a long time, I didn’t see it myself, Mer. But when I finally began to understand what happiness is, I knew I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t been, not really…not since you.

  Could he have meant it? Do people really change?

  I’m not making excuses for the girls I’ve been with, but please try and understand. There was a reason I never got serious with anyone else. It’s not that they weren’t interested. I wasn’t. I was looking for something and…well, when I looked back I realized, it wasn’t about sleeping with every girl I met until I found the right one. I had already found her…and lost her.

  You, Doll.

  It’s always been you.

  After hearing him say all the things I wished he realized before we broke up, coupled with the weight of a failed marriage and starting my life over at thirty-five, that last line did me in. Damn you, Gabe.

  I don’t know, maybe it was the knowledge that we had the house to ourselves. I mean when is that ever going to happen again? Or maybe I was looking for a little comfort. Any port in a storm, kind of thing. Images flash of me on top of him. Of him behind me. Taking me.

  And, oh my God, the things he said. He wrapped my hair in his fist, pulled my face to his and told me I belonged to him. Nibbled along my jaw, kissing the delicate skin beneath my ear. You’ve been mine from the first time we met. The words sent me over.

  He claimed me as his. Thinking about it now spreads goosebumps across my chest.

  The uninspiring wood sign for Prewitt Reservoir catches my attention. I have no idea what brought me down these roads, but the water’s up, so I decide to park and watch the birds on the lake for a while. I kill the engine and climb out of my car, slamming the door shut and startling a flock of geese. They take off, their little butts wiggling as they waddle away in terror, spreading their wings as they run, honking madly. I laugh and turn my face to the sun, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. The warmth feels good. Even if I am standing out here in my fuzzy slippers.

  I sit and stare at the glimmers of light glancing off the lake. Draw my knees up to my chest and let my thoughts wander, hoping they’ll just go right ahead and wander themselves into an order that makes sense. Alas, they do not. I wait patiently, as long as I can stand, before my stomach demands attention. I need hangover food. And soon.

  I quietly say my goodbyes to the scenery as I pull away. No magical epiphanies today—at least none yet. I head north towards Sterling, hopeful to make it to Burger King before they stop serving breakfast. Diet be damned, right now I need a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit and some hash browns. Oh, please let them be fresh. And hot. And crispy. My mouth is watering, and my foot is as heavy on the gas as I dare.

  I sit alone at a table regretting my slipper decision as I scarf my breakfast down and watch the people bustling in and out. A man struggling to control a young boy and girl at his side catches my attention. The children can’t be more than four or five years old. I don’t pick up everything he’s saying, but I clearly overhear him bargaining with them, reiterating that they have to promise to behave for the rest of the trip if they want to get meals with the toys. I wonder about the family. Where are they off to? Is it a family vacation? Will I ever have that? Once upon a time, it seemed inevitable. Now, it feels like a dream. The details continue to fade with each passing hour.

  I always thought I would have that by now. For a moment, I let myself daydream about having that with Gabe, but then shake my head. What’s the matter with you? Gabe is a child himself, how could he be a dad? I know the thought of a family with Gabe doesn’t make sense, but I don’t have the energy to fight it, so I let it linger for a while, regardless.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabe

  I wanted to say thank you. I yelled after her. Tried to tell her how much last night meant, but she pulled away so fast I’m not sure she heard any of it. I wasn’t oblivious to the doubt in her words this morning. I know she’s regretting what happened—but not me.

  Not one bit.

  Last night was exactly what I needed to prove she’s all there is for me. All there ever has been. What I need to do now is figure out how to help her see it too. I climb into the cab of my truck, not entirely ready to be behind the wheel. My head aches, I can only see out of one eye, and I’m too keyed up with thoughts about Mer to go home and just…be alone.

  Through the haze of a hangover I remember that from here, Christy’s old place is closer than the ranch—and with Hank living there now, I figure I can stop in and sleep it off for a while. Jack and Frank are staying with him while they’re in town anyway. Maybe they’ll be the distraction I need. With my destination set, I start the engine and take a quick look in the mirror to survey the damage. DAMN. If she took me home looking like this, she must love me, too. Right? I mean…somewhere in there.

  I’ve never been a cowboy hat kind of guy. That’s Chet’s deal. An old ball cap with a deeply curved bill has always been more my speed. The kind of hat that shows a man has spent time shaping it to his liking. I reach for the one on the dash and pull it down as far as I can manage without covering my eyes. You only have to make it to Hank’s. You can do this. I shift the truck into gear and ease out of the lot, the rumble of
the exhaust slow and steady.

  When I stop in front of Hank’s house, Jack comes through the door holding an apple between his teeth as he raises his arms in a WTF gesture. I cut the engine and ease out of the cab. “What’s up?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the bright sun overhead and the glare reflecting off the gravel.

  Jack takes the apple out of his mouth. “What’s up? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?” He turns and yells into the house through the screen door, “Hey, I found him.” A few seconds later, Frank and Hank shuffle out to stand at Jack’s side.

  “What the hell, Gabe?” There’s a snide tone in Frank’s voice. Ordinarily, I’d call him out for talking to me that way. As he was so quick to point out when I needed help with my tie, I am older than him. But this morning, I’m too weak and too distracted to bother.

  “Good to see you, too. What’s got you stooges all spun up?”

  “Um, maybe the fact that you disappeared last night, and no one had a clue where you were,” Frank replies, his voice curt.

  I try to joke, hoping to diffuse the situation. “You seem…upset.”

  Hank cocks his head. “Since when do you not at least reply to your text messages, man?”

  My phone? Shit, where’s my phone? I feel around the pockets of my rented monkey suit. “I, uh, seem to have misplaced my cell phone. Why? What’d you all think? I fell off a cliff?”

  “Maybe, ” Hank says. “The shape you were in. Didn’t seem like you could get very far, but then you vanished. There was no sign of you, anywhere.”

  Jack takes a bite from his apple. “Where’d you get off to?”

  “And how’d you get there?” Hank adds.

  “Jeez. If you’re going to keep rapid firing questions at me, somebody had better start writing them down.” I put my hand to my aching head. “You see Hank, a man doesn’t kiss and tell…” I start.

  Hank shakes his head in disbelief. “Bullshit. Even you couldn’t have hooked up with someone last night.”