CHAPTER TWELVE

The visiting room door opened before I could grab the handle. I looked up at Gabriel.

“Coming to fetch me?” I asked. Then I noticed the window in the door.

He waved me through and shut the door.

“How long were you watching?” I asked.

I waited for him to say he hadn’t been, that he’d known my time was up and had come to meet me.

He said nothing.

I let him lead me away, silent as we exited the building.

Had he seen me sitting there with my back to Todd? Seen me crying? Humiliation and anger swirled hot in my gut.

“I asked you—” I began.

“Not to accompany you inside, so I didn’t. I waited at the door.”

“You watched from the door.”

A slight narrowing of his eyes before he slapped on his shades. “I knew this would be difficult, and I thought it best if I was nearby, in case you needed counsel.”

“What kind of counsel could I possibly—” I swallowed the rest.

If you embarrassed yourself, that’s your fault. Don’t take it out on him.

I started for the car. It took a moment to realize Gabriel still stood outside the prison door.

“What have I done, Olivia?”

“Nothing. You’re right. I just didn’t want—”

I bit off the words, shook my head again, and started to turn away.

“Didn’t want what?”

“You to see what I did in there, how I reacted.”

His head tilted, lips pursing slightly. “Because you were upset?”

“Can we drop it? Please? I’d like to get out of here.”

Once we reached the parking lot, he said, “You asked me to accompany you. You wanted me there, and then you did not, and I’d like to know what I’ve done, Olivia, because I cannot figure it out.”

“You’ve done nothing. You’ve been above-and-beyond helpful, especially in the last few days, and if I haven’t let you know how much I appreciate—”

“I want to know what I did to make you change your mind about having me there when you met Todd.”

I opened the car door but paused before climbing inside and looked across the roof. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. It was one hundred percent me.”

His brows knitted, as if I were a witness deliberately ducking a direct question.

I sighed and then admitted, “I was embarrassed. After the throwing up . . . I was worried it would get even worse when I saw him. And I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t face him at first, Gabriel. I literally could not face him.”

A pause, so long that my gut twisted. I overshared. Again. Goddamn it, Gabriel, do not ask for answers when you don’t want them.

Finally, he said, “I would not judge you for—”

“But you do.”

I tried to drop it, just climb into the car and break the conversation, but my hands gripped the roof and the words poured out before I could stop them.

“You do judge me. It’s subtle, and it might not be intentional, but I can see it and I can feel it. You have no patience with weakness. You have no patience with emotional outbursts. I might not be what you first expected: a spoiled brat playing at living a real life. But it took me a hell of a long time to prove I wasn’t that girl, and I still feel like I’m walking a balance beam, ready at any moment to tumble out of your good graces. To make a stupid decision. To overreact to a problem. To be the useless debutante you expect.”

He stood there, blank shades fixed on me, the face below them equally blank.

I exhaled. “And speaking of overreacting . . . I—I didn’t mean to do that. I should probably . . .” I caught sight of a taxi dropping off a passenger. “I’ll catch a ride back to the city and call Ricky.”

I headed for the taxi, picking up speed as it started to pull away. I waved and it stopped, and I was almost at the door before Gabriel intercepted me. He motioned the cab on. The guy sped off without even glancing at me.

“Ricky has club business tonight,” Gabriel said.

“I know, but he said if I needed him—”

“You don’t.” He waved me toward the car. “Don won’t appreciate it, not when I’m here and can handle this.”

“It’s not about watching over me, Gabriel. It’s about . . .”

I trailed off as I glanced up at him, seeing that same blank expression. It’s about support. Having someone to talk to. A shoulder to cry on if I need it. Because I might look okay right now, but I’m not. I’m really not. And you don’t see that. You’re just relieved that I’m not collapsing in tears on the sidewalk.

“I would like to call Ricky,” I said, slowly and firmly.

“I can’t stop you, but I don’t see the point, unless you’re trying to antagonize Don. I have no idea what the Saints are doing—the less I know, the better—but Ricky is very concerned about the situation with James. If he didn’t feel he needed to handle this with the club, he’d be with you. You don’t need to call him, so you shouldn’t.”

I stared at him. He frowned back.

You don’t get it. You can’t get it.

I started toward the rental car without another word.

—

I wished I had more gum. My jaw ached from chewing that entire package, and I think my stomach would have revolted at the merest hint of spearmint, but I desperately wanted something, anything, to do. Also, I wanted a drink. Maybe three. As we stopped at a light, Gabriel caught me glancing longingly at a bar.

“Would you like . . . ?”

I turned away quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

He continued driving, and I tried to relax. My fingers itched to pick up my phone and text Ricky, but Gabriel was right. We were going to the cabin tomorrow. I could wait.

When the car stopped, Gabriel’s door clicked open and I looked about, but the only open shop I could see was a corner store. When Gabriel indicated I should get out, I shook my head.

“I’ll wait,” I said. “Oh, but if you could grab gum to replace Lydia’s . . .”

He frowned. Then he noticed the corner store. He pointed farther down the road. I could make out flashes of neon and a crowd on the sidewalk. When I put down my window, I caught the thump of music.

“I don’t need a drink.”

“Yes, but you’d like one. Come on.”

—

I’m partial to small pubs, though I’ll make an exception for a good blues bar. Quiet—that’s the key. This place had nineties pop music cranked so loud I could feel my fillings quivering.

Gabriel paused at the entrance and peered back down the street, as if expecting other options to miraculously appear.

“This seems . . . loud,” he said, and although I had to read his lips to understand him, I swore I could hear the bewilderment in his voice, as if “loud” and “bar” were not words he expected to go together. Other words that didn’t go together? Gabriel and alcohol. Gabriel and socializing. Two more I suspected didn’t fit? Gabriel and bars.

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” he said.

“It’s fine.”

As we walked in, I realized this was what I needed—not the alcohol but the bar itself. The anonymity and the darkness and the loud music that saved me from having to talk.

I ordered Scotch, neat. Gabriel got a coffee. And that was the capper on my evening. Gabriel sees alcohol as a crutch. He knows that’s why I don’t like to drink in front of him. So if I have one, so does he, even if he doesn’t finish it. Tonight he brought me to a bar, his idea, after I refused twice, and now he was going to drink a goddamn coffee while—

Fuck it. Just fuck it. Let him have his coffee. Let him judge me. I downed my drink and then ordered another, and didn’t even glance Gabriel’s way. Between drinks, I texted Ricky to let him know everything was fine. He replied that he wanted to talk. I told him I’d call before bed.

I was halfway through my second drink when Gabriel apparently got bored. One minute he was staring at nothing in particular and the next he was on his feet, three paces away before he remembered he wasn’t alone. He turned and motioned that he was stepping away. I thought he was heading to the restroom. Instead, he went outside, maybe for fresh air, maybe as a hint for me to drink faster. Didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Gabriel had been gone about five minutes when a guy waltzed over and swung into his seat.

“Taken,” I said, motioning at the empty coffee cup.

He picked up Gabriel’s mug and set it on the next table. “Not now.”

I looked around, assuring myself that there was, indeed, no shortage of young, attractive women who looked a whole lot more welcoming than I did.

He leaned across the table. “I was walking to the bar, saw you sitting here, and couldn’t believe this seat was actually empty.”

“Because it wasn’t five minutes ago.”

“Then I got a good look at you, and I figured it out.” A big flash of glowingly white teeth. “I’m guessing there aren’t many guys with the balls to sit in this chair, considering who you are.”

I looked at him, blank-faced. Then I stood. He grabbed my wrist, pinning it to the table, gripping it so tight I winced. I was about to yank my arm away when a hand grasped his fingers and peeled them off.

The guy looked up at Gabriel. Then he leapt up, swinging. Gabriel caught the blow and threw him onto the dance floor.

Gabriel pointed at my empty glass. “Do you want another?” Behind him, the guy had gotten to his feet. He glowered at Gabriel and then stalked off.

Gabriel asked again. “Would you like another?”

I stared at him. Then I shook my head, threw a twenty on the table, and walked out. Gabriel followed. He didn’t say anything. Even when the noise of the bar faded enough to talk, he acted as if nothing had happened. I got in the car and we went back to his place, without a word exchanged.