Page 24 of The Grumpy Roommate Gamble

His throat worked as he swallowed, and it seemed all the blood had drained from his face.

“I—Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

I could still feel the phantom press of his arm across my throat. “No. You startled me, is all. It’s okay.”

With a slow, shuddering exhale, he dropped his face into his hands.

“What were you dreaming about?” I murmured. Was this new? Or did he have nightmares often? I’d never heard him before, but that didn’t mean anything.

Gabe only shook his head. This whole situation obviously deeply disturbed him. I expected it would give me pause, too. Later. Right now, I was only concerned with comforting him.

Understanding he didn’t want to be touched right now, I tried again. “Why don’t I make you some tea?”

“No.”

“Coffee?” I doubted either of us would go back to sleep, so caffeine hardly mattered.

“No,” he repeated, scrambling to his feet. He yanked open dresser drawers, dragging on track pants and a T-shirt. Jamming his feet into running shoes without even any socks, he strode for the door. “I’m going for a run.”

Without another word, he walked out. His feet thumped down the stairs. Then the front door opened and closed, and I was alone, naked in his bed, without the first clue how to process any of what had just happened.

He obviously had some kind of trauma that hadn’t been dealt with. I could only assume it had something to do with histime in the Army. Maybe this last deployment. I’d heard rumors around town that their unit had been attacked, though Gabe himself had said nothing about what he’d been through. I hadn’t felt as if I could ask, and it hadn’t seemed especially relevant before.

It sure as hell felt relevant now.

Scooping a hand through my hair, I glanced at the clock. 4:13 in the morning. There wasn’t a chance I was going back to sleep after all this, so I got up, swiping one of his button-down flannel shirts to put on, and headed downstairs. He might not want tea, but I certainly did.

On autopilot, I went through the ritual of putting on the kettle, prepping the leaves in an infuser. Not until I held the mug, warm between my palms, did I settle at the kitchen table to try to untangle my thoughts. I could only hope that by the time he came home, I’d have a clearer idea of how to navigate this.

FIFTEEN

GABE

I’d been working like a demon for days at Felicity’s house.

The last of the flooring had been replaced, and I reached for the next sheet of drywall with a sort of manic strength. The work, the purpose, was the only thing keeping me sane just now. I’d barely slept, fueling myself with endless coffee and delivery food, because I needed to get this done. I needed the house finished so Felicity could get the hell out of my house, away from me. She wasn’t safe with me.

Over and over, I’d relived the moment I’d woken up, half choking her. I didn’t even fully remember the nightmare, but I’d never ever forget the look on her face, the feel of that soft body I’d worshipped only hours before going stiff as she struggled for the breath that I’d denied her.

She’d insisted she was fine, but all I could do was imagine all the ways it could have gone so much worse, because I wasn’t fully in control of myself. If I’d followed through on my training, fighting the threat that existed only in my own mind, I could’ve killed her.

I should never have given in. Never have taken her to mybed. It had been a mistake. I’d always known I was better alone, and this only confirmed that fact.

I didn’t know how to face her, so I simply hadn’t been home more than briefly for the past several days. Only late, late at night, after she’d gone to bed. In her own room, not mine.

That was its own form of indictment. One I absolutely deserved.

She couldn’t possibly feel safe in my house anymore, so I’d do this one last thing for her. To give her a safe place again, away from me.

I lost myself in the work, one measurement, one cut after the next. I’d just cut the last piece of drywall and fit it into place, when a voice spoke behind me.

“Wow, you’ve gotten a lot done.”

At the sound of Felicity’s voice, I almost dropped my hammer. I hadn’t seen her since I walked out on her the other night, and I wasn’t prepared now. But I made myself turn, made myself lift my gaze from the floor. Made myself look at her throat, searching for bruising. The lack of any was only a modicum of a relief.

“I’ve been busy.” It was the only thing I could say. All the apologies and assurances bouncing around in my brain felt paltry and useless.

“I noticed. I brought you some food.” She lifted a soft-sided cooler.

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