Page 108 of Gabriel's Salvation

“No, you don't get to decide what I do and don't deserve. Who the fuck do you think you are?” I rant as the tears continue to flow.

“Maybe I don't want the perfect princess being rescued by the knight fairytale. Maybe I wanna be my own fucking warrior. Maybe, I don't want sunshine and rainbows, perhaps I want dark and dangerous and goddamn real. Did you ever think of that?” I snap as I push him away so that I can stand.

“You don’t fucking know anything. You're a goddamn coward, Gabe.” I shout. He reaches for me, but I slap his hand away.

“No. You make out that you're this badass scary, ‘I'm not scared of anything’ kind of guy. But you're a fucking coward. Scared of anything becoming real. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of being open and letting anyone see the real you. You'll only get to push me away so many times before I'm gone, and you'll lose me forever. Last chance. If I walk out this door, I'm never coming back,” I scream as I reach for the door handle.

Gabe pushes the door closed, pinning me in. “I'm broken…” Gabe tries to say again, but I'm too angry to listen.

“I..don’t..fucking..care!” I scream, directly into his stupid, yet devilishly handsome face.

Gabe grabs me forcefully by the face and plunges his tongue deep inside my mouth. Our kiss is angry and depraved, our hands scratch and claw at each other as our mouths kiss and bite each other. And our hands waste no time before virtually ripping the clothes off each other. I feel Gabe’s hands loop around the back of my thighs as he lifts me into the air and fucks me hard and fast against the wall. The whole time we're fucking it’s angry and passionate, filled with a mixture of love, hate, longing, and desperation. When we’re finally finished, we collapse into a sweaty mess on the floor.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Gabe

Iroll over, leaving a panting and exhausted Riley on the floor, and force myself to stand. I make my way to the bathroom, in desperate need of a moment alone to gather my thoughts after everything that's happened in the last hour.

I head into the bathroom, shut the door behind me, close the lid to the toilet, and sit down. I rest my head in my hands while I take a few calming breaths and try to evaluate what the fuck I should do next.

Finally feeling a little more level headed, I exit the bathroom expecting to find Riley still lying where I left her on the floor. But when I open the door, she's nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she's moved to the bed. The floor is uncomfortable as fuck, I try to tell myself, despite the uneasiness washing over my body. I turn towards the bed praying to see her, but the bed is empty. What the fuck? I glance over to the chair, the one that had her clothes on it just moments ago, but those clothes are no longer there. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She left! She ran away! I scared her away! I fucked shit up and lost the only truly good thing in my life.

I rush towards the door, hoping to chase her down. After all, she's got no way to truly leave since we came on my bike. But what if she ran down to that dickhead at reception and begged him to protect her. Maybe he’d take her home. Or hide her in some staff room that I can’t gain access to. The possibilities fly through my head at lightning speed, so fast in fact, that I almost don't see Riley. She is sitting, fully dressed, on the floor with her back against the door. But why? Is she blocking my exit perhaps?

I attempt to lift her up, but she kicks out. “No, you're not leaving me!” she screams as she continues to flail around in my arms.

I scoop her up like a child and hold her tightly against me. “I'm not going anywhere, baby,” I say, with a promise, as I carefully carry her back into the main room and hold her tightly in my arms as I sit us both down on the bed.

“What was that?” she asks, voice barely louder than a whisper.

When I don't answer her, she clarifies, “The dream, the self doubt, the fear. What was all of that about?”

“My demons,” I sigh, unsure what else to say and hoping that it will be enough for her. I really don’t want her to know that part of me. The part that will surely make her disgusted to be around me and will make her leave me, just like everyone else leaves me. I am gross; I am disgusting, but right now, at this moment, she doesn’t see that part of me, and I want to keep it that way.

She reaches up and grips my face, pulling me so that I have no choice but to stare directly into her eyes. “You can tell me…anything,” she says softly, yet somehow with more intensity than ever before.

I feel a shift between us. I feel more connected to her in ways that I have never felt with anyone else. I want her to see me. I want her to know all about me.

Can I? Can I really tell her? Tell her all the fucked up shit that lives rent free in my mind? Can I trust her with my deepest, darkest secrets? Secrets I've never told another living soul?

As if she can hear my unspoken words, she answers. “You can trust me Gabe. I won't tell anyone, I promise.”

I stay silent for a moment, still staring into her eyes, locked in some sort of battle of wills as neither of us wants to be the first person to break it.

“I can’t. I wouldn't even know where to start,” I admit, averting my eyes from her.

I see the sadness in her eyes as she looks away, clearly thinking I'm saying I don't want to tell her, rather that I truly have no idea where the fuck to start as my whole life has been such a disaster and that I no longer know what's normal and what isn't.

“But you can ask me anything, and I'll try to be as honest as possible,” I add. Am I making a huge mistake? What if she somehow uses this against me? What if I bare my soul to her and she then rejects me? I look at her once more, seeing the kindness and sincerity behind those eyes, and decide that for her, I'm willing to risk complete and utter damnation.

“Okay,” she says softly. As she climbs off my lap.

“I'm gonna need a beer first,” I say as I walk over to the mini bar and pull out a can. I know I said I'd do my best not to drink when I'm around her. But there's no way in hell I'm gonna survive this sober.

“I’m ready,” I say through anxious, gritted teeth as she joins me outside on the balcony.

“Who are the Jacksons?” she asks as she reaches out and places her hand on my lap.

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