Page 20 of Dare to Fall
“I’ll get your bag,” I tell Gabby, jogging back to the RV holding my cock, certain Fred is giving me a strange look.
Inside the RV, I slip on the pair of sweatpants that hung around Gabby’s knees last night as I fucked her senseless. Did it mean so damn little to her that she’s going to board a plane to California without a second thought about what happens to us?
“Here,” I say, tossing the waterproof bag at her.
“That’s it?”
“You don’t want to keep Fred waiting.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to call me out or argue. Maybe run at me and pound my chest with her fists until I push her up against the van and kiss her breathless. But instead, she quietly shakes her head before climbing into the passenger seat of the shuttle van, leaving without so much as a goodbye.
I pretend not to give two fucks about that van disappearing down my driveway, taking away the only woman I’ve ever loved. But inside, I’m fucking torn apart. I barely survived losing Gabby the first time. I can do it again.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Chapter Eleven
Gabby
I pace my lodge room like a caged lion, frustrated as hell by Tucker’s pissy dismissal this morning. In all the time we spent together, he never once asked what I might have going on in my life. And before I could suggest that he come with me to California, he did what he always does—he walked away before he took in the whole picture.
In my frantic pacing, I trip over a flip-flop. I catch myself on the edge of the bed, fighting a loud groan.
I want to scream.
But I don’t want to startle anyone—especially Erin, who’s right next door.
I know she said she didn’t want to be bothered this weekend until we were leaving for the airport, but I think this might qualify as an exception. Erin’s my go-to for advice. The one who always encourages me to follow my dreams—and my heart. She was there to help pick up the pieces after a bad breakup several months ago.
Shit.
I need to tell her I’m moving out of her place and heading to California.
Pushing up from the bed, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging over the luggage stand.
Double shit.
There’s a fucking twig in my hair.
I carefully tug the stick free, yelping when it pulls a tangled strand of hair right out of my scalp.
After a much-needed shower and a failed attempt to get Erin to answer her door, I head downstairs to talk to Winnie. Maybe I can sweettalk the woman into giving me a spare key to Erin’s room. At the very least, I think a quick welfare check is in order. Though I can’t imagine Erin could look much worse than I did.
“You look refreshed dear,” Winnie says, greeting me with a warm smile. I wonder how much of that smile Fred might be responsible for, and I almost ask. But she doesn’t give me the chance. “Did you need something?”
“Just wondered if you’ve seen my friend Erin? She’s not answering her door, and I’m a little worried about her.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve seen her. She’s actually out for the day.”
“She’s what now?”
“She left with a smile on her face, so I think that’s a good thing. Don’t you?”
“I guess so?—”
“Say, could I ask a favor?”
