Page 61 of If This is Love

He wasn’t asleep, but he still wasn’t back from where he’d retreated to in his tormented mind. His eyes were wide open, the water pelting them and making them look like liquid silver, but he remained unflinching as he stared at the ceiling like he was looking right through it.

“Gabe,” I said gently, water pouring down the sides of my face and dripping onto his. “Gabe, look at me, sweet friend.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. Didn’t do anything but stare blankly and breathe.

I inched farther into the shower and wiped his face, then lowered my torso to rest on his. “Gabe. Can you hear me?”

Still nothing. His skin was pallid and cold.

I wiped his face again, then combed back his wet hair. His silvery eyes remained vacant, glazed, and still. Still as death, yet still alive. I’d never seen anything like his fit of chaos and rage before, and it chilled me to my core and gripped me with fear.

“Merciful God,” I whispered, lowering my forehead to rest against his and closing my eyes, stroking his hair while the water poured like a deluge over both of us, “hold your hurting child in the palm of your hand and ease the torment of his mind.Bless his tender, battered soul with grace and mercy and help him know how loved he is.”

Silence permeated the hard, cavernous bathroom, save for the ricochet of water splashing marble. For several moments, I whispered more prayers and stroked his hair while Gunner whined deep and low, until I felt his hand wrap around my wrist.

“Ruth.”

I pulled my face back just enough to look at him. His pewter eyes focused right on mine, and I honestly couldn’t tell if it was the shower or if it was tears spilling out of his eyes, but I wiped them away just the same. “Hey there, friend.”

“Ruth.” My name came out with a crack in his voice. “What happened?”

I couldn’t fight the tremble of my bottom lip. He didn’t even know. He hadn’t even been here. And I had to tell him. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You just had a tough moment, friend.”

16

GABE

FRENCH QUARTER, NEW ORLEANS

Iwasn’t sure at first where I was. All I saw was rain and Ruth’s serene, amber eyes. All I heard was Gunner whining. But something hummed just below my sternum; a tightening anxiety and an infiltrating sense of dread.

Something had happened.

Meaning, I’d done something.

Time was missing. It registered in my mind that I was lying in the shower, but it wasn’t the shower at my house. Ruth was soaking wet, her body laying against mine like we were lovers in bed, but weweren’tin bed, and I had no idea how I got here.

There was a reason I was lying in the shower. There was a reason she was lying on top of me like this, not even paying attention to the torrent of water drenching us both. There was a reason Gunner was more distressed than I could remember him being.

There was a reason my right fist was throbbing.

“Ruth.”

Did Ihither?

My panicked gaze flicked all over her face, but I didn’t see anywhere she looked injured. Nevertheless, the ache in my hand told me I’d done something horrible.

She wiped below my eyes like I was crying, and I didn’t even know if I was crying or not. “Hey there, friend.”

“Ruth.” My voiced cracked. “What happened?”

Her beautiful bottom lip trembled. “You just had a tough moment, friend.”

“I did something,” was all I could come up with.

“You did,” she said gently, “but it’s going to be okay.”

My hands went to the small of her back, holding her like she was my lifeline to reality. “Did I hurt you?”

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