Page 10 of Loving Wild
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Gabe whispers as his eyes meet hers.
He looks broken, and I’m done. With only enough left in the tank to get me to the bedroom, I stand, and without making eye contact with anyone, call out, “I’m going to bed, there are plenty of spare beds downstairs, or the sofa up here, otherwise it’s the floor.”
I don’t look back as the ‘goodnights’ are called out, nor when I hear Gabe say my name.
I clean my teeth, then climb into bed. Despite worrying that I won’t sleep, I’m out almost the instant my head hits the pillow.
* * *
I’m notsure how much later it is that I’m woken by the sound of what I assume is Gabe throwing up. Sitting up slowly, I squint against the bathroom light that’s illuminating the bedroom. I still have a dull ache down low in my belly, and the rest of me feels pretty much like I’ve been hit by a bus as I cautiously swing my legs out of bed and wait for my head to stop spinning.
Slowly standing, I make my way into the ensuite. And there he is, Gabe, on his knees, his forehead pressed into his crossed arms, which are resting on top of the toilet.
I watch him for a while, getting my emotions in check before making him aware of my presence. Just looking at him makes me want to cry. I was becoming so sure of us. Until he walked out and left me yesterday, I was absolutely convinced he was my safe place, my saviour. I was sure we had at least achanceof a future together. Despite the short amount of time I’ve known him, the fact I should probably be running far, far away fromanykind of relationship right now, he’d convinced me to take that chance, to trust him.
But his actions last night hurt. Him leaving me when I really neededhimand his presence close, hurt a lot more than it should, and now I’m not entirely sure how I feel. About him, about us.
I knew we were rushing into things too fast, but I allowed myself to get swept away in the romance of it all. Gabe, like his namesake, had swooped in like an angel, rescuing me right when I needed it. I won’t lie, it didn’t feel wrong. In fact, it felt one hundred per cent right. But now, I’m not sure I know anything at all.
He was there for me at the beginning, but I’m unsure how far I can trust him to be there for me in the future. What if he’s already over all the bull shit and baggage I bring to the table?
What Idoknow is, when shit goes down, Gabe runs, and the only person I can really rely on is me.
Without a word, I head out to the kitchen and fill one of his drink bottles with iced water from the fridge. When I get back to the bathroom, I pull a face cloth from the shelf, run it under the cold tap, and kneel next to him.
“Here, take a few sips of this,” I say quietly while offering the bottle. Without raising his head, he takes it from me. I then lay the face cloth over the back of his neck before leaning back and squeezing myself against the wall facing him.
“Thanks,” Gabe croaks. His voice sounds raspy, the way it does when he first wakes up or during sex. It hits me in the heart that I know this about him. I know how he sounds when he fucks. I know how he sounds when he’s tired, turned on, just woke up, angry, stressed. In a short space of time, I’ve come to learn all those things about him.
But he left me, and we need to talk about that. Before I hand any more of my heart over to this man, I need to be sure we can get past what Jay did to me. We need to talk about the reason he runs when shit goes down.
I watch as he straightens a little before taking a few sips of water from the bottle. It only takes a moment before he’s hunched back over the toilet and throwing up again.
I don’t move to touch him or make any sympathetic sounds. Instead, I silently hold back my own need to heave right along with him.
A few minutes after he finally grows silent, he flushes, moves the face cloth from the back of his neck, and wipes his face with it before taking a large swig from the bottle. After swirling the water around his mouth, he spits it down the toilet. When all of that is done, that’s when his eyes meet mine.
I instantly want to cry again.
I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anyone look so utterly broken in my life.
The blue of his eyes is the darkest I’ve ever seen it. The contrast against his dark skin, hair, lashes and whiskers makes them no less beautiful.
“Did I break us?” he whispers hoarsely.
I’m not going to lie just to make him feel better, and as if reading my hesitation, he adds, “Total honesty, Ren.”
“I gave you total honesty, and you left me.”
He nods slowly.
“I broke us.”
Inod this time.
“Can I fix us, or did I fuck it all up completely?”
I shrug. “I need some time to think.”
