by Robin Huber
“She’s not the kind of girl you get over.”
Stacey crosses her arms over her large, fake breasts. “Well, I guess that makes me chopped liver.”
I glance down at her blankly, affirming her assumption.
She huffs again. “You can be a real asshole, Gabe. I don’t know why I ever wasted my time with you.” She spins around and stalks toward the bar.
Stacey McGillis falls into the category of sad, lonely mistakes I made after Liv left. I let her into my bed a few years ago and she’s been trying to get back with me ever since. Asshole or not, maybe now she’ll realize she was just a mistake I made on a lonely night.
Two guys are standing in front of Liv now, blocking my view. They’re bouncing around like a couple of idiots. I think they’re trying to dance. I kind of feel bad for the one guy. He couldn’t keep up with the beat of the music to save his life. I inch a little closer so that I can see Liv again. She and Trisha seem completely oblivious to the two doofuses intruding on their dance space. One of the guys leans in and says something in Liv’s ear, and it bothers me more than it should. She smiles and shakes her head, and he walks away. Another guy moves in and I watch this one try the same thing. Liv politely waves him off too. Another one tries and is deterred. I watch four different men approach Liv, and whether it’s warranted or not, it’s really starting to piss me off.
“I got dibs on the brunette,” someone slurs in my ear. I look over at the idiot standing beside me wearing a trucker hat and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
“What did you say?”
“The brunette. What I wouldn’t give to see her on her knees...right here,” he says, holding his hands out in front of his hips.
My heart thunders in my chest as my fist flies through the air and slams into his jaw, sending him to the floor.
Suddenly, everyone is yelling and people are moving in around me.
“Gabe?” Liv shoves her way through the growing crowd and sees the guy lying on the floor, holding his jaw. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“You’re out.” A bouncer grabs my shirt and starts shoving me toward the exit.
“Gabe?” Liv hurries behind him. “Wait!”
“It’s fine, Liv. Go back and have fun.”
“What? No!”
The bouncer shoves me outside. “Don’t come back tonight.”
Liv steps around him and grabs my shirt. “What happened? Did you hit that guy?”
“It’s not a big deal. Just please, go back inside and enjoy the rest of the night with Trisha.”
She looks hurt and confused.
“I’m sorry. It was stupid.” I shrug. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
She nods, but her eyes are filled with disappointment.
Dammit. How do I explain that I knocked the guy out defending her honor, when the truth is, it isn’t mine to defend?
I drop my head and walk away.
I don’t look back until I get to my truck, and by then she’s gone back inside. “Idiot!” I shout, punching the door. I reach for the handle with my throbbing hand and climb inside.
I sit in my truck for a long time, staring at my phone. I want to call Liv and explain what happened, but I text her the number of a cab company instead.
Me: Stay and have fun with Trisha. Here’s the number for a cab later. Still no Uber on the island. Please don’t drive home.
Chapter 14
Liv
I wake up much too early, considering the hour I went to bed. My mouth is dry and I’m thirsty. I wanted to go home after Gabe got kicked out of Charlie’s last night, but Trisha, who had already consumed several cocktails, wasn’t ready for the night to end. So I half-heartedly danced with her and the other drunk fools until she was finally ready to leave around midnight.
I grab my phone off the nightstand.
6am
It’s early, but I have to see Gabe. I don’t know what happened last night, but I can’t spend another week waiting to find out. I’ll have to take Trisha’s car, though. Mine is still sitting in the parking lot at Charlie’s.
I get up and take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and throw on a sundress and sandals. I leave a bottle of water and two Tylenol on the nightstand next to Trisha, who will likely be sleeping until the late hours of the morning.
I grab her keys and sneak out of the house.
On my way to Gabe’s, I finish a bottle of water and swallow down some Tylenol for good measure, but I actually feel pretty good. All I need now is a cup of coffee.
It’s not quite 7:00 when I pull onto the Norths’ property, which is blanketed by a cloudy veil of fog that’s masking the views of the green trees in the distance. This is the third time I’ve driven past Gabe’s parents’ house unnoticed, but I doubt anyone is even up yet. I’ll have to see them eventually, but for now, I’m happy to avoid any uncomfortable run-ins. Especially with Jackie, seeing as how well our last encounter went.
I pull up to the garage and park next to Gabe’s truck. It’s quiet on the property, besides the occasional call of a robin beckoning the morning. I’m sure Gabe is still asleep, but I can’t wait for him to wake up. I need to talk to him now.
I tip-toe up the dewy stairs to his apartment. I’m halfway up when he opens the door and steps out onto the landing.
I guess he heard me pull up.
I pause and drink him in. He’s shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of gray drawstring joggers that are tied low on his waist, showing off the V below his sculpted eight pack. His hair is tousled around his scruffy face and his eyes are still heavy from sleep. He’s too much to look at this early in the morning, but I can’t avert my eyes. They follow the lines of his torso up to his beautiful face.
“Hey,” he says, low and husky.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “I know it’s early. Sorry.”
He holds the door open for me to come up and I climb the rest of the steps. I rub Roxy’s head when she greets me at the door. “Hi, Rox.” She circles my legs and follows me in.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. Coffee would be great.”
I sit down at the table in his small kitchen and watch him make a pot of coffee. He gets a couple of mugs down and stands over the pot, watching it intently as it brews. He must need a cup as badly as I do. That or he’s distracting himself with it on purpose to avoid talking to me about last night. Something tells me it’s the latter.
When the coffee is done brewing, he fills the mugs and stirs in some sugar and half-and-half. He hands me a cup and sits down across from me.
I wrap my hands around the warm mug and slowly sip the creamy, lightly sweetened coffee, recalling how Travis never made my coffee right. “This is perfect,” I muse quietly.
“I remembered that you like a lot of cream and just a little sugar.”
“You remembered that?”
“Yeah, well, you sent me on enough coffee runs during finals.” He laughs quietly and sips his cup. “You used to get all hyped up on caffeine so you could stay up late studying.”
“Yeah.” I laugh and put the cup down on the table. I give him a small, guarded smile. “I’m sorry that I woke you.”
“I needed to get up. I have some work I have to finish today, so...”
“Gabe, are you going to talk to me about last night?”
He pulls his eyebrows together, making the little line appear over the bridge of his nose. “No,” he says stubbornly.
“Why?”
“Because it was stupid. I was just being an idiot. I’m sorry that I ruined the night.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. But I think I deserve an explanation. I mean, one minute we were having a good time and the next you were knocking some guy out and getting kicked out of the bar?”
He stares at his cup of coffee.
“If you’re having a hard time controlling your temper—”
His eyes flash up to me. “You think I have anger issues?”
I shake my head uncertainly. “Then just tell me you had a good reason.”
He drops his hands into his lap and sighs. “I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what?”
“This,” he says with a defeated look on his face.
“You can’t talk to me?”
His empty eyes gaze at me and I begin to wonder if this is the Gabe my mom warned me about. His mood shifted quicker than I could blink last weekend, he withdrew into silence all week, then he lost his temper last night, and now he’s going to shut me out again. My heart shrinks inside my chest and hot tears burn behind my eyes, but I hold them back. The anticipation of the withdrawal I’m undoubtedly going to experience fills me with fear, which I immediately convert into anger.
“Why the hell did you even come last night? If you don’t want to be around me, Gabe, then don’t. I wasn’t trying to push you to be my friend, I just thought maybe you could use one. I guess I was wrong.”
He takes a deep breath and stands up. “I don’t want to be your friend.” He grabs the back of his chair. “Don’t you get it?”
Ouch. I feel myself shrinking in my chair as the anger turns to hurt.
He runs his hands through his hair and then drops them on the table. He looks into my eyes and says clearly, “I can’t be your friend.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. Do not cry. Do not cry. “I understand.” I stand up and look for my bag so I can run to the car and let it out. Where the hell is my bag? I find it under the table and search for my keys with shaking fingers.
“No, you don’t understand.”
I’m suddenly overcome with seven years of pent-up emotions that I no longer have the will to contain. Every question that’s burned inside me since I left for Raleigh comes screaming to the surface.
“Why did you push me away?” I cry, needing to know now more than ever why he stopped loving me. The tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. “Just tell me. Tell me what I did, Gabe. So I can move on.”
His eyes move away from me. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then why did you stop loving me? Was it really because of your injury? Did it change the way you felt about me that much?”
“No,” he says firmly, confusing me.
“You’re right, I don’t understand. Injury or not, you knew how devastated I was after losing Brandon, but you pushed me away anyway. And I wasn’t equipped, Gabe. I wasn’t ready to do that without you. I don’t understand how you could do that to me. How could you do that to me?” I cry, the tears running freely down my cheeks now. “I lost part of myself when Brandon died, but without you, I had nothing, I was nothing. Just an empty shell. I’m still just a shell of who I was before.”
“Liv—”
“All I wanted to do was help you. I would have sacrificed everything for you.”
“I know.”
“I loved you so much. And I’m terrified that I’ll never be able to love anyone like that ever again.”
He gazes at me for a long silent second.
“I have to go,” I say quietly, turning toward the door, but he catches my elbow and spins me around.
“I never stopped loving you,” he says, just louder than a whisper.
I gaze up at him, wondering if I heard him right, and feeling dizzy from the emotions sloshing around inside me.
“You want to know why I hit that guy last night?” he asks, speaking a little louder. “It was because he was bragging about how he was going to hook up with you. Do you know what that was like for me?”
“Gabe,” I say, barely loud enough to hear my own voice, because my brain is still struggling to make sense of his admission.
“I can’t be your friend, Liv. I want to, I swear to God I want to. I tried...but I can’t.” He reaches for my face and wipes a tear from my cheek I wasn’t even aware was there. It feels as if my whole face has gone numb. “But not because of the reason you think. I can’t be your friend...because I’m still in love with you. And I know how incredibly selfish that is, but—”
“What?” I blink up at him, wondering if I heard him right.
“I love you,” he says, groaning, as though the words are torture.
I stand frozen, looking up at him, and I see relief and pain reflected in his eyes, mirroring my own emotions.
“I never stopped,” he says clearly, and my blood stills in my veins.
A thousand thoughts flood my mind, tugging me in different directions. “But you said—”
“I know what I said. I lied, okay?”
“You...you lied? Why would you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want you to sacrifice everything for me. I wanted you to finish college and start your life. And I knew the only way I could get you to do that was by telling you that I didn’t love you anymore.”
“How could you do that?” I ask, feeling my heart break all over again, like it was just yesterday. “How could you lie to me?” I pull my hand to my mouth, thinking of the pain I endured for months and months. For years. I cry quiet tears. “You broke my heart.”
“I know I did.” He pulls my hand away from my face and I see the heartbreak in his eyes too. “I just wanted more for you, baby.” He holds my face between his hands and says huskily, “I still do. You deserve so much better.”
“Better,” I say softly, “than what?”
“Me.” His eyes water and I see the guilt and sacrifice behind them. And all traces of betrayal vanish.
I reach up and smooth the little line over his nose with my thumb. “Gabe, there isn’t anything better than you.”
“Liv—”
“Shhh...” I put my hand on his flushed cheek. “It’s okay.”
Suddenly, a new emotion washes over his face that seems to be a conflicting mix of joy, pain, and sheer, raw passion, because his mouth is on mine within seconds and he’s pulling me into his arms.
Ohh. The feeling of Gabe’s lips on mine again is surreal. I’ve kissed him a thousand times before, but those kisses have lived as faded memories in my head for the last seven years. And none that I recall were quite like this. This kiss holds seven years of heartbreak and loneliness and longing and desire. It’s everything that we were, everything that we lost, and everything that we could be again, all wrapped up into one desperate kiss.
He holds my face as his eager lips navigate mine, pulling and tugging them until my heart is hammering inside my chest. His tongue caresses mine and I moan when I taste him. He’s warmly familiar and deliciously new all at once. I moan again and he drops his hands to my waist. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him, kissing him frantically and kicking off my sandals as he carries me to his bed. By the time we reach it, my dress is off and Gabe’s sweatpants are pushed down on his hips. He drops me onto the giant mattress and kisses me urgently—on my mouth, on my throat, on the parts of my breasts that aren’t covered by my bra.
Roxy is standing beside the bed with her head propped up on the mattress, watching us with curious eyes.
“Go, Rox,” Gabe says to her, pointing to the kitchen, but she doesn’t move. He pushes himself off me, scoops her up—a hilarious sight with her long legs and shaggy tail sticking up in the air—and carries her to the kitchen. “Stay,” he tells her, repeating the command until she lies down.
He hurries back to the bed with a determined look on his face and I lean up to greet his eager lips when he climbs on top of me again. He kisses me slow and deep this time, and his tongue moves effortlessly over mine. He sucks my lips and gently pulls them between his teeth, making them tingle and making me feel frenzied with desire. I don’t know which part of him to touch first. I want to feel all of him. I want to explore his new body and rediscover the familiar parts I already know. My hands are everywhere at once—his hair, his neck, his back, his arms, his shoulders.
His new muscles flex under my touch and I want to kiss each and every one of them. He’s like a living, breathing David, with muscles carved from stone, except that
he’s soft and warm and gentle. He kisses my neck and collarbone, and nuzzles my breasts.
I arch my back, giving him access to my bra, which he quickly unclasps and pulls down my arms. He gazes at my naked breasts and they swell under his lustful stare. He kisses each one softly, massaging them with his strong, gentle hands. He moves his mouth to my neck while his hands search the rest of my body. He seems equally torn as to which parts of me to touch.
I squirm beneath him, moaning and rocking my hips up against him. I want him so badly. “Gabe,” I beg.
He kisses my mouth and slips his hand inside my panties. When his fingers slide over the slickness between my legs, he moans and falls back onto his knees. He scrambles out of his sweatpants and his erection springs free.
The sight of him naked, with his etched muscles framing his maleness, is glorious. Even it looks bigger, if that’s possible. I don’t have long to ponder it. He leans down and kisses my thighs and stomach feverishly, hooking his thumbs inside my panties, before ripping them off. Literally. If it wasn’t the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, I would tell him those were my favorite pair.
He crawls over me, kissing me everywhere he can, and reaches for the drawer on his nightstand. He pulls out a condom and tears it open.
“Gabe, I’m on the pill.”
He pauses.
“I’m on the pill, you don’t have to.”
He looks conflicted.
“I want to feel you,” I say, pulling his mouth back to mine.
He hesitates, then tosses the condom on the floor. “I’ve always been safe,” he mutters as he kisses me again. He raises up slightly and pushes my legs apart with his knees. His warm honey-and-chocolate eyes are gazing down at me and his messy hair is hanging over his forehead. I reach up and run my fingers through it, watching his full lips part as he rubs himself over my entrance. I can barely breathe, waiting for him to sink into me. My back arches with anticipation and I lick my lips, watching his.
He pushes into me and I cry out with relief and joy and ecstasy. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve longed for him, pined for him, for so many years, and now I have him in this perfect, euphoric moment.