Page 43 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“Doesn’t matter.”

“How much, Webb.”

“Enough to attract people who don’t care what’s right or wrong. Enough to bring strangers sniffing around just to make a payday.”

She stared at the logs across from us. “Great.”

I watched her shoulders pull tight, her whole body drawing in as if she were trying to become smaller than she already was, and it made my chest clench.

“But it’s okay,” I added quietly. “We’re ahead of him.”

She gave me a doubtful glance, but I didn’t back down.

“I mean it. And something else, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but I called one of my cousins back in Gonzales County. He knows a guy called Maddix who used to be a cop.”

Gabby's head jerked. “Wait, Maddix? Like?—?”

“Nah, this guy’s name’s spelled differently, and he’s definitely not the same guy,” I reassured her. “But the name caught me, too. He’s working out of Texas now but still has a few ties up north. Said he’s going to reach out to some of his people in New York and start sniffing around for anything Maddox might be tied into out there.”

She raised a brow. “You think he’s got reach that far?”

“If his empire’s as big as it’s looking, I don’t see him limiting himself to Florida. The kind of greed this guy’s chasing doesn’t come with borders. Especially not when money and reputation are involved. If he's known there, they'll have a bigger idea of what else he's been up to.”

I plated the steaks and handed hers over. Gabby took it wordlessly, staring at the meat and salad like they were foreign objects.

As I took bites of my own, she just sat there, pushing her steak around with the side of her fork, dragging it slowly through the lettuce and tomato like she was trying to camouflage it. I watched her lips press into a line, her eyes distant again, far away in that place she sometimes went to when it got quiet.

I didn’t say anything, just set my plate down, stood up, and walked over to her. She didn’t resist when I pulled her up gently, not even when I turned and sat back down in my chair with her tucked into my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because, at this point, it was.

She settled against me, the tension still clinging to her limbs like static, and I grabbed both plates and started feeding us slowly—one bite for her, one for me. She didn’t fight it, and I didn’t press her to tell me what was going on in her brain. I also didn’t tell her it was going to be fine because she was too smart for platitudes. I just held her, fed her, and stayed present.

I could feel it in her, how badly she needed the gentleness of it. The simplicity of just being taken care of, even for a minute. She’d carried herself through fire before she ever got to me—of course she was tired, so I let her lean. And I made damn sure she knew I’d hold her steady when she did.

Gabby stayed curled into me, her body warm and still, but I could feel the way her breath caught every so often. It also felt like her heart was beating faster than she wanted it to, as if something was trying to claw its way out of her chest, and she was too tired to hold it back anymore.

Her fingers, resting lightly on my thigh, twitched once, and then her voice came, soft as smoke. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

I stopped chewing, letting her words settle in my chest like a stone. She didn’t look at me, just stared past my shoulder, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the trees.

“It wakes me up at night,” she whispered. “Thinking about what would happen if something went wrong. If you got hurt because of me.” She sucked in a ragged breath, sharp and shaky. “I know this wasn’t your fight." Her voice cracked. “But I’m so glad it’s you.”

I didn’t say anything right away. I just stared at her—at this woman who’d come barreling into my life like a storm wrapped in sarcasm and panic and strength she didn’t even know she had.

Then I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to hers. The touch was gentle and simple, but it said everything.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I murmured, my voice low, barely more than a breath between us.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and I felt her exhale against my skin. In that quiet, with the night wrapped around us and her heartbeat pressed against my chest, I knew she wasn’t dragging me into anything. I’d walked in willingly, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

Gabby didn’t say anything right away after I whispered that I wouldn’t have it any other way, but something in her shifted.

Her breathing changed—shallower, quicker. I could feel it against my neck. Her fingers flexed where they rested againstmy leg, curling just slightly into the fabric of my jeans like she needed to hold on to something solid.

Then, slowly, she angled her head, and before I could blink, before I could even ask if she was sure, she kissed me.

It wasn't soft or hesitant. It was deep, hungry, and hot. Like she’d been holding it back for days and couldn’t anymore. It was a kiss that told me everything Gabby didn’t say out loud—that she was scared, that she was tired, that she wanted something tangible to hold onto in all the chaos. That she wanted me.

I froze for half a second, my brain catching up to the explosion happening in my chest. Then I was moving.

---