My breath hitched.
“She’d been drinking.” Gabe swore and hit the steering wheel. “I hate the Oregon Ducks.”
“Okay…”
“No. Seriously. Hate. Them.” His muscle clenched. “It’s the only damn sweatshirt Princess will wear.”
I reached across the consul and grabbed Gabe’s free hand, clenching it within my own. “Why is it the only sweatshirt she’ll wear?
“Because…” His eyes were like glass, he blinked a few times. “It used to be mine. I was wearing it the night she hit the tree.”
“Oh.”
“It’s the same way with her pink scarf. For some reason the only thing she remembers is that she forgot her pink scarf — not her helmet. I don’t know why she fixates on certain things. But she has to have her pink scarf tied to her wheelchair at all times or she has a meltdown.”
“And the singing?” I cleared my throat. “Is it the same with the singing?”
Gabe took the second Bellevue exit that led to the west side. Curious, I looked out the window and tried to keep my heart in check. He was cutting himself open, bleeding himself dry, and waiting for me to either accept or reject him.
He was brave.
Braver than me.
“The minute she hears my voice, she’s taken to someplace safe, different. Stupid, right?”
I turned and looked at him, focused on his full lips, gorgeous mouth, strong jaw.
“No.” I squeezed his hand. “Not stupid. If positions were switched, I can imagine, hearing your voice would be the most soothing thing in the world. Like the quiet after a storm, the peace you crave in a lifetime full of noise. You’re her peace.”
Gabe nodded. “I guess that’s something, right? I both destroy and bring peace?”
“You didn’t cause the destruction, Gabe. You were just an unfortunate victim — and sometimes that’s worse than being the cause.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything as he drove the car around a curvy road and then pulled up to an immaculate house.
“Where are we?”
Gabe turned off the car and stared straight ahead. “Seattle was far enough away that it made sense to disappear here, but…” His nostrils flared. “She’d seen this thing on HGTV about homes in Bellevue and fell in love.”
I looked back at the house. My heart pounded. “Gabe…”
“I bought it.” He clenched the keys in his hand. “For her. I bought it for her.”
I didn’t want to know, yet I had to. “Was she able to see it, before?”
“No.” Gabe’s voice was filled with pain. “She never saw it. I was going to fly her up here as a surprise.”
We sat in silence. He stared at the house. I stared at him.
“So.” Gabe nodded. “This is it. You know how people always come with baggage? I don’t have baggage. I have a freaking house. I don’t have a closet full of skeletons. I have seven bedrooms full of them. And I can literally walk up those stairs and open the door and let you see all of them, but I’ll have nothing left. This is the last possible thing I have protecting myself. I have no more masks, no more façades, no jokes, no personalities, nothing. Absolutely nothing. This house? This is it.”
I released his hand and reached for the door. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
His head snapped to the side, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Pardon?”
“We didn’t drive all the way out here to stare at a house.” I stepped out onto the gravel. “We’re going in.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Gabe asked, doubt lacing his every word. “This is heavy stuff, Saylor. I wouldn’t blame you for running, for getting back into that car and deciding it wasn’t worth it.”
“I’m falling.” I shrugged. “Not fallen, as in I’ve already landed, but falling, in the process. I’m falling with you, not jumping after you. Don’t you think it’s about time you let someone share the load?” I offered a small smile. “Besides, who actually likes jumping out of a plane by themselves? Tandem, all the way.”
“One day…” Gabe whispered. “When my heart is mine again. When I’m not sharing it with a dying girl… I’ll give you everything.”
“Gabe,” I said, sighing. “Right now? I’m perfectly happy with the pieces. No matter how broken they may be.”
“Damn, you really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I do.” I reached for him.
He took my hand without hesitation. We walked up the stairs together, slowly approaching a house that was getting bigger and bigger by the second.
From the outside, it was a two story masterpiece. He put the key in the lock and the door creaked open.
He turned the lights on.
And I gasped.
It wasn’t just beautiful, it was out of this world. Like something I’d only ever seen on TV or in the movies.
Exposed wood beams lined the ceiling, creating a trail from the living room into an open floor plan kitchen. The colors were a combination of white and wood. A stone and copper fireplace dominated the center of the room with a plush white couch wrapped halfway around the front. Splashes of red — throw pillows and blankets — decorated the living room area. I stepped further into the hall and saw another open room, this one with vaulted ceilings.
And a baby grand piano waited in the middle.
“Afraid?” Gabe’s voice whispered in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Ha.” I exhaled and stared, a bit jealous that he had his own practice room — a happy room I could imagine myself sitting in for hours on end while the roaring fireplace crackled in the background.
It wasn’t until I took my eyes off the piano that I noticed what was on the walls. It was like watching a movie without sound. Black and white pictures went from left to right, all the way across the room.
Slowly, I walked up to the first one. Gabe and Kimmy were wrapped around each other kissing.
I touched her face — the same face he wiped the drool from every single day — and completely lost it.
The tears wouldn’t stop coming. I cried, and I cried, and then I cried some more. I cried until my body shook. I cried until I had nothing left.
And Gabe held me.
The thing about people revealing their pain to you?
More often than not. It becomes your own.
And I was wrecked.