Page 54 of Found by the Pack
I close my book completely and set it aside. “You coming from work?”
“Yeah,” he says, pacing in front of the coffee table. “Stopped by Gabe’s place on the way, figured I’d get the truth, but he wasn’t home.”
“Maybe,” I say carefully, “you could take a breath and wait until you talk to him before you decide it’s worth getting this riled up.”
He shoots me a look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he’s been hanging around her.”
I have. But it’s not like Gabe’s the only one paying attention to her.
I tilt my head. “Boone, you’ve got to admit, you’re acting a little… invested.”
His shoulders go tight. “I’m not?—”
“You are.” I hold up a hand before he can argue. “Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong to care. She’s been through some shit, and you’ve been looking out for her since the accident. But this is more than you getting protective.”
He stops pacing long enough for me to see the muscle ticking in his jaw. That’s confirmation enough.
“Sit,” I say, nodding toward the armchair. “You’re making Gus nervous.”
Boone glances down. Sure enough, the retriever’s watching him with those big golden eyes, tail twitching with uncertainty. Boone mutters something under his breath and drops into the chair.
I head into the kitchen, grab a couple of beers from the fridge, and pass him one. The sound of the front door opening again cuts off whatever I was going to say next.
Gabe steps in, shaking rain from his hair, a half-amused, half-exhausted look on his face. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had?—”
He stops short when he sees Boone, then his gaze flicks between us.
“What’s going on?”
Boone doesn’t waste a second. “You tell me. You and Sadie?”
Gabe blinks. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Shepard heard it too,” Boone says, dragging me into it like I volunteered to be his witness.
I hold up a hand. “What I heard was the town gossip mill doing what it does best.”
Gabe groans and runs a hand down his face. “For fuck’s sake. I was helping her with some supplies and grabbed lunch. That’s it.”
Boone leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’ve been spending time with her. People notice.”
Gabe gives him a look that’s half disbelief, half irritation. “So what, I’m not allowed to talk to her now?”
“I didn’t say that,” Boone snaps.
“Sure sounds like it.”
Before they can start circling each other like a couple of teenagers in a parking lot fight, I step in. “Alright, both of you, stop. We’re not doing this here.”
They glance at me, but neither looks inclined to back down.
“Boone,” I say, keeping my tone even, “you’re worked up because you think there’s something you don’t know. Fine. But you’re making assumptions based on what McAllister’s cousin’s niece heard from someone who was probably three drinks in. That’s not exactly reliable intel.”
He scowls but doesn’t argue.
“And Gabe,” I continue, “you know Boone’s been on edge since the accident. He’s protective, maybe overly so. You snapping at him’s not going to help.”
Gabe exhales hard through his nose, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I just don’t like being made out like I’m… whatever people think I’m doing. She’s new here. She needed a hand. End of story.”
