by Abby Brooks
I can’t remember a time I felt as happy as I have these last three months, and now I see what a fragile thing happiness can be. The very idea of Gabe in distress tears at my soul and I pray to God above to please, please let him be alright. I pull out every negotiation tactic I can think of. I promise to go to church more. I promise to pray more. I promise to never again judge him for the past. I promise to stop being afraid to state my opinion and stand my ground defending it (even to my parents).
The hospital comes into view ahead and I breathe for the first time since leaving home. I turn the wheel and cut a hard corner into the parking lot, screeching to a crooked stop in the first empty spot I find. Racing towards the entrance, I can’t be sure I shut the engine off. Whatever. I run to the front desk.
“Gabe Wilde.” I huff and puff to catch my breath while the blue haired woman pressing the phone to her ear glares at me with disdain. She looks away as she apologizes into the handset and asks the person on the other end to repeat what they just said. I frantically tap my foot while I stare at the hold-on-a-second finger she has aimed at me. My blood is boiling by the time she hangs up the phone and returns her attention to me. She looks me up and down in not-so-silent judgement, and after my eyes follow hers, I realize I’ve done it again. In my rush to get here, I neglected to change out of my lovely gray pajama bottoms adorned with red hearts and lips, or the crusty white men’s t-shirt I couldn’t not sleep in last night. Strands of hair are surely flying in all directions from the bottom of my baseball cap and, of course I’m wearing my fuzzy slippers. Damnit woman. “Gabe Wilde. What room is he in?” I ask impatiently.
The woman types into her computer and looks up with a frown. “Are you family?”
I scoff at the accusation behind the question. “Yes. I’m his fiancée.” Instinctively, I lift my hand to shove my beautiful engagement ring in her face, only to realize it’s not there. Sheepishly, I pull my hand out of her view. “What room?” I snap.
“Two-twenty-three,” she says, offended by my harsh tone.
“Thanks.” I wave my hand as I head for the elevators. Because I have absolutely no idea what I’m walking in to, it takes everything I can muster not to hyperventilate as I step onto his floor. “Two-twenty-three, right?” I mumble to myself as I stop outside the door. The name tag reads, Wilde. I knock gently and am relieved to hear Chet bellow, “Come in.”
One more deep breath. Put on a brave face. Here we go.
I step into the room and find Hank, Marie, and Chet gathered around Gabe’s bedside.
Gabe’s eyes are closed, and I see a cast on one arm, but otherwise he looks alright.
“What happened?” I whisper.
Hank looks confused. “Didn’t you get my messages?”
I shake my head. “My phone died. I saw your text and rushed over.”
Chet clears his throat. “Gabe was mostly delirious when I got to him, but from what I’ve pieced together, he was out with the cattle yesterday evening. See, we’ve been having trouble with coyotes for a while now, and evening is when they’re most active. Anyway, best I can figure, the herd got in the vicinity of one, and it must have spooked a few and caused them to split off. I figure Gabe probably got hurt trying to rope one in.”
“Oh my God. How bad is he?” I ask.
Gabe shifts in the bed and groans. “He’s a broken mess.” He struggles to sit up, but the pain quickly overwhelms him and he falls back, wrapping his arms over his waist.
Marie raises the tissue box to offer me one before taking another for herself. “The doctor says he broke a few ribs and his arm.”
Gabe groans again, holding his ribs while he speaks. “Probably still be lying in the field if I’d been on a four-wheeler. Like I told you, only a horse could’ve got me home in the shape I was in.”
Chet and Hank glance at each other and shrug, seemingly confused by Gabe’s statement. “Guess that’s true. By the time he came back up by the houses, he was slumped over in his saddle. Who knows how long it would’ve taken us to find him otherwise,” Chet says.
Hank jumps in. “Or realize he was missing. It’s not like he’s been around a lot lately.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment in recognition that I’m the reason for Gabe’s spotty attendance. Gabe opens his eyes and looks at Hank. “Really? Even now?”
“Huh?” Hank asks, surprised by the questions.
Gabe reaches for the bed controls, raising the back to help him into a more upright position. “Even now—lying here in the hospital—the shape I’m in, and you feel compelled to give me shit about how much time I’ve spent clocked in at work?”
Hank chuckles. “Hey, if I don’t do it, who will?”
Marie sighs as she stands, relieved to see her son acting like himself. “Come on boys, why don’t we go get something to eat and give these two some space?”
Hank looks at his mother. “Where? The cafeteria?” He appears genuinely disturbed by the idea.
Chet picks up his Stetson. “Sometimes life just isn’t fair, Hank. Come on.” He places his hand on Hank’s shoulder and pushes him forward.
Marie smiles at me as she closes the door behind her.
Without the slightest concern for my opinion on the matter, tears break free from my eyes and my voice cracks. “I was so worried.” I kneel beside his bed, bringing my mouth to the fingers poking out from his cast, kissing each one and rubbing them along my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted. Please…please forgive me. And not just about yesterday. About everything. I can’t be without you. I just can’t. I don’t care about Colorado Springs, we can move tomorrow if that’s what you want. I just want you. I swear, I’ll go home and pack tonight.”
The edge of Gabe’s cracked lips curl into a smile. “I love you too, Doll.” He groans in pain as he adjusts in the bed. “I only wanted to move because I thought that was the life you needed to be happy. And that’s my top priority.”
I laugh to myself as I wipe the tears back under control.
“What’s funny?” Gabe asks.
“This. Me. Us.” I laugh again. “I came running home to hide from my failed life. I thought if I started over…started from zero, I would finally be in control of it. And then you show up, and throw everything into disarray. I was so sure you were a distraction, keeping me from my goals. So, I questioned you at every step, thinking I was protecting myself from being hurt again.”
Gabe groans. “So far, I’m not seeing the humor here.”
“Well, when I checked my phone this morning, there was this random message from Hank, informing me you’re in the hospital. I was overwhelmed at the thought that I could lose you. But the thing is, I already did. I broke up with you because we had a fight. One fight. And that’s it…I go with the nuclear option. Like an idiot. I’ve never felt as alive and free and happy as I do when I’m with you. And in one moment of anger, I lose my mind. But Gabe I promise…no, I swear, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I see it now. I do.”
Gabe strains to look around the room.
“What do you need? Tell me and I’ll get it.”
“My stuff,” he says. “Where are my clothes?”
I protest. “Gabe, you can’t leave.”
He shakes his head. “No—my jeans. Find my jeans.”
I scurry around the room, checking everywhere until I finally notice a plastic bag tucked beside the bed with his belongings in it. “Here they are. What do you need?”
“The pocket. It’s in the front pocket.”
I reach into the bag, and dig through one pocket and then the other, curious what is so important. The moment my hand touches it I know. I pull out the engagement ring and hold it up. “Is this what you want?”
Gabe nods. “Your finger. Please, put it back where it belongs.”
I bob my head in agreement as the tears come back. I slide the ring back into its rightful place and lift my hand to the light to admire the sparkle.
Disregarding my protests and h
is pain, Gabe skootches over in the bed and pats at the empty space.
I shake my head. “No way. I’m not crawling up there with you. What if I hurt you?”
“You came back. I’m feeling no pain.” Gabe attempts a laugh, but groans in agony as he covers his ribs.
“Uh-huh. I see that.” I’m so close to him, but I feel so far. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist. I point my index finger at Gabe. “I’ll try it, but if it makes you even a little uncomfortable you have to promise you’ll tell me, deal?”
“Yes ma’am.” Gabe raises his good arm and I curl into the space underneath, careful not to put pressure on his ribs.
“Ahh.” I sigh—relieved of so many things.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gabe
Hank adjusts the box in his arms, so he can wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Where do you want this?” he groans.
“Just put everything in the dining room for now.” I look to Meredith. “If that’s alright with you?”
She nods. “Yep. I see now why I should’ve labeled the boxes before they went to storage. After this long, I have no idea what’s what.”
Hank stoops to place the box on the floor, shifting out of the way as others pass by carrying boxes of their own. “Real smart of you, Gabe.”
As per usual with Hank, there’s no telling what he’s referring to. “What’s real smart of me?”
“You know, getting Meredith moved in before your ribs heal…so you don’t have to do any of the work. No way could this have waited a few more weeks until the doctor cleared you, huh?” He shakes his head. “You must be pretty smart after all.”
I give Hank a wink. “It’s not all roses and champagne for me either you know.”
Hank raises a brow. “Oh yeah? How so? I haven’t seen you lift a finger all day.”
“No, that’s true. I haven’t picked up a single box. But would you leave a monkey unsupervised with your most prized belongings?”
Hank scratches his head, giving me such a wonderful visual of him as a monkey—it’s too perfect. I burst out laughing. “See what I mean?”
When he makes the connection, he is less than amused. “Asshole,” he says as he heads out the door to grab another box from the truck.
Within a couple of hours—thanks to Hank, Jack, Chet, and Meredith’s brother James—all her earthly possessions fill the dining room, ready to be unpacked and put away in their rightful place, in our home. And I mean everything. The stuff she placed in storage after her divorce, the various odds and ends packed up in a corner of her parents’ garage, as well as the contents of her bedroom (yeah that interaction with her folks didn’t get awkward at all). As a small gesture of thanks for all their heavy lifting, we celebrate the move with pizzas and beer.
James is the last to leave, and I’m man enough to admit, if I wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of ravaging his sister, I would’ve enjoyed him staying longer. I saw a totally different side of the man today. He might be a decent guy once you get him out of his father’s shadow.
With the house to ourselves, I sneak up behind Mer, wrap my arms around her growing belly, and whisper in her ear. “Welcome home, Doll. Welcome home.”
She spins on her heel to face me. “Ah, I like the sound of that. It’s already starting to feel like home, too. Is that bad? For me to be this comfortable with the idea so quickly.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. If this is where we’re going to make our life together, it’s damned important that this is the place you wanna be.”
Meredith has a devious smile on her face and my curiosity gets the better of me. “What? What are you thinking up there?” I ask, as I lightly tap her forehead.
“Well. I’m trying to decide what color scheme we want to go with when we repaint the living room, dining room, and kitchen.” She motions around the house with her hands and then settles her sights on the kitchen. “Or if we are better off waiting to do anything in there, you know, until after the remodel. Why waste the effort until we know which direction we want to go with the cabinets and the backsplash?”
My heart skips a beat and my mind goes numb. “Uhh…” I mumble.
Meredith bursts out laughing.
“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?” Each time I think she’s getting control of herself, she looks at me and loses it all over again, doubling over and pointing at me while she shrieks and cackles. I have no idea what is so funny, but her laughter is infectious and before I know it, I’m chuckling along with her. “What is so damn funny?”
“The look,” she says as she gulps for air. “The look on your face. You thought I was serious, and you panicked.”
I smile. “Oh yeah? You think you’re a funny girl? Like to have a good laugh?” I rub my hands together. “Well please, allow me to help you out.” I playfully drag her to the couch, tickling her waist and arms along the way. In between giggles she shouts for me to stop before I hurt myself, but even after I lay her down, I don’t let up. I only stop when she warns me she’s about to pee herself, and then it’s only because I fall to the floor beside her, holding my ribs from the pain of laughing so much. When I finally catch my breath, I look deeply into Meredith’s eyes. “This. Right here. This is our life now.”
She skootches herself over, and kisses me. “And it’s everything I ever wanted.”
The house remains in a semi-wrecked state for the next week or two while we unpack boxes and try to decide what of her stuff stays and what of my stuff goes. I made her a promise when she agreed to move in—she has free reign when it comes to decorating. Whatever she wants. However she wants it. By the time she’s through putting up pictures and knickknacks—and then taking them down two hours later to try them in another spot—the place looks amazing. Especially upstairs. I didn’t realize how bare the walls were until we painted and decorated. I guess that’s just the difference of a woman’s touch.
“Gabe?” Meredith holds the paint roller in her hand as she steps back from the wall. “I’m afraid I hate it.”
I’m across the room, trying to cut in the edge along the ceiling and if I stop now, I know it’ll leave a spot when I come back to it. “What? Why?” I ask, trying to focus on my straight line.
“The color. It’s too…ugh. I can’t even say the word out loud.” When I’ve finished my task, I lay the brush down on the paint cup and rub at the kink that’s forming in my neck. I walk over to look at the wall she’s been painting and notice her nervously biting at her bottom lip. There’s something about those little quirks, the things no one else would likely ever notice, that bring a smile to my face.
“Is it the shade? Or the color itself? Talk to me, Doll.”
Meredith frowns. “I don’t know. After the ultrasound, I was so excited to paint the room pink. Just like mine. I loved it at as girl and I loved thinking she might too.” Meredith rubs her belly.
“And now?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She sets the roller down in the tray and brings her hands to her hips as she stares at the wall. “You’ll think I’m being crazy.”
“Try me.”
“Well, it’s the same Pepto color as my room and…don’t make fun…but what if we’re setting her up to live the same life I did? I can’t bear the thought of her growing up without a voice.”
I step behind her to rub her neck and shoulders. “If you don’t like the pink, then I say we stop now and go back to the hardware store for something more neutral. Maybe a pale yellow, or pastel stripes? Whatever makes you happy.” I kiss her neck, just below her ear. “But, if you’re worried that we’re somehow going to become your parents and make the same mistakes with our little girl that they made with you, then yes, I think you’re being crazy.”
Meredith raises her chin, inviting me to continue my work. “Really? You don’t think we’re going to make all kinds of mistakes with her?”
I turn her towards me. “Oh no. We’re going to make all kinds of mistakes.” I deposit another kiss. “But they won’t
be the same dumb mistakes our parents made with us. She’ll grow up resenting us for entirely new reasons. That’s just the way of it.”
Meredith slaps my chest. “That’s the best you could come up with to make me feel better?”
“What?” I laugh. “I said we could pick out a different color.”
Meredith gives me her not-funny look. “Don’t you have a crib to put together? Or something?”
“The one we found online last night, but haven’t bought yet? No, if I’m honest, putting that together is still on my honey-do list. I guess I figured, seeing as you’re only five months pregnant, I still had time.”
“Oh? That’s the kind of husband and father you plan to be?”
The statement catches me off guard. “What kind?” I ask.
“You know, a procrastinator. One of those men who has to be yelled at to get off his ass and mow the yard, or change the oil in the car, or whatever.”
“Really?” I tap my foot. “If that’s the impression I’ve been giving you, then we need to nip that in the bud right now.” I swoop her up in my arms and carry her across the hall to our bedroom.
“Gabe, careful now, you’ll hurt yourself again,” Meredith warns.
“What? My ribs? They’ve been healed for over a month. Besides—priorities.” I carefully lay her on the bed. “You seem like you need a distraction from the baby’s room, and it’s my duty to oblige.”
Meredith sits up on her elbows. “What about painting?”
“Ahh.” I crinkle my nose. “I’ll do that after I mow the yard and change the oil.” I smile. “Why don’t you come here?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gabe
“Hank, damnit.”
“What?” Hank looks at me, confused by my irritation.
“You just spilled your beer in my lap, ya jerk.”
“Did not. I wouldn’t treat a beer that way.”
I point at the dark spot in the crotch of my Levi’s. “What’s this look like to you?”