Page 25 of This Kind of Forever
He pats his chest, just above his heart. “Lay your head here.”
This time, I know better than to argue. Or maybe I’ve just given up pretending that I want to. I rest my head on his chest, my ear turned to his heart. Immediately, I hear the organ’s rhythmic beats. It doesn’t drown the storm out completely, but it gives me something steady to focus on.
“Better?”
I hum. “Better.”
“Good,” he says, wrapping his arm around my back. “You’re safe, Hallie. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you. The words do something to me, stitching up a hole that has been left in my heart from years of my mother’s neglect. It isn’t Gabe’s hurt to fix, but he does it anyway.
I smile. “I know you do.”
“Goodnight, Foster.”
“Night, Gabriel.”
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I fall asleep easily.
TEN
HALLIE
When I wake up,it takes me a moment to realize I’m not in my own bed. Although the new mattress out in the guesthouse is comfortable enough, it has nothing on this one.
I allow myself an extra minute under the covers before I slip out of bed, leaving the warmth behind. Thankfully, Gabe’s side is empty. I’m not sure what I would have done if I had to face him like this. It’s bad enough that he found me in such a vulnerable position last night.
It’s not a secret to my friends that the wind scares me. But I try to keep the extent of my fear to myself. I’ve been relatively successful—until last night.
Last night, Gabe learned more than I ever wanted him to know. Now I need to figure out how to forget about it so the next time I see him, I can act somewhat normally.
I tiptoe across the floor and into the bathroom. Shutting the door as quietly as possible, I wince when the hinges give a slight whine. I avoid the mirror entirely, not wanting to know how bad the bags under my eyes are. My guess is they’re pretty big.
As much as it pains me to part with it, I pull Gabe’s shirt off and toss it in the hamper in the corner. Then I grab my shirt and tug it over my head. It’s a little stiff from air drying, but I don’t plan to be wearing it for long. I only need to get downstairs and out the back door without being seen.
Perhaps I haven’t exactly left my cowardly ways behind.
After I switch out Gabe’s sweats for my pajama pants, I creep out of the bathroom and into the hallway. I go slowly past Abbie’s bedroom. The door is still closed, so I’m assuming she is still asleep. The last thing I need is her finding me sneaking out of her dad’s bedroom. That would lead to questions. Ones I don’t have good answers to.
I cringe each time the stairs creak beneath my feet. Peering down into the foyer, I see no sign of Gabe, which means I may be able to make a clean getaway after all.
I hit the bottom of the stairs and silently head down the back hallway. Just as I reach my shoes, a voice stops me in my tracks.
“Sneaking out on me, Foster?”
Damn it.
I turn on my heel to face Gabe. He’s leaning against the archway into the kitchen, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. The sight makes my brain short-circuit for a second. How can one man lookthatgood? Even slightly rumpled from sleep.Especiallyslightly rumpled from sleep.
I shrug and then cross my own arms, still very aware that I’m not wearing a bra. “Just wasn’t sure what the morning after protocol was. I’ve never spent the night in your bed before.”
He hums. “Consider it a practice run, then.”
Now my brain truly does short-circuit. Because that sounds a lot like flirting—like something the Gabe from ten years ago would say, just to see the blush coat my cheeks. If he’s up to his old ways, it sure as hell is working. I can feel the heat rush to my face…and other places.
Friends. We’re friends. We agreed. Besides, I was the one who ran away last time. I doubt Gabe has been waiting all this time for me.
I flounder for something to say, but he thankfully beats me to it. “C’mon,” he says, turning back to the kitchen. “I made you breakfast.”
