Page 99 of A Little More Forgiveness

“What?” I asked, unsure what he referred to.

“The party is next door, not here. Can’t you hear the music?”

“Oh, sorry, no it’s—”

He cocked his head to the side, his rich chocolate eyes stared at us, waiting.

“Gabe,” Mitch blurted. “We’d like to speak to Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?” The guy frowned, making my stomach drop and pain spear my heart. Had he and Gabe hooked up? What other explanation was there when a nearly naked man answered the door to your lover’s house?

Fuck. Were we already too late?

Towel Guy smirked. “Gabriel’s next door.”

“Wh-what?” I stuttered, my mind playing all sorts of tricks on me about what they’d been up to.

“He’s with everyone else at the party next door.”

Oh, thank God.

“Now, if you don’t mind, and hell, I don’t care if you do. I’m gonna go get some clothes on before I fucking freeze to death.”

“Sorry. Yes, sorry. Thank you.”

He grunted, and rapidly shut the door.

“Not a particularly good start,” I remarked sourly.

“At least we know he’s still here and hasn’t left the Bay.” Mitch squeezed my hand. He hadn’t let go of me the whole time. “Come on. Let’s go crash a party.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Gabe

It amazed me how many friends Mason and Ash had made in the few short months since they’d put down roots here. The living area and kitchen were full of people drinking, eating, and having a great time.

Well, nearly all.

I’d tried. I truly had, but no matter what I did, I ended up being a completely miserable bastard.

Even Flynn gave me a wide berth after an enthusiastic greeting. He’d flirted like crazy when I’d first arrived, hoping, I guess, to pick up where we’d left off with another round between the sheets. I felt like a total shit when he figured out I wasn’t up for a repeat of the last time we met a few months ago. But he’d taken it on the chin, shrugged his shoulders, gone back to his friends, and not come anywhere near me since.

“Here,” a deep bass voice reverberated in my ear at the same time a tumbler containing a dark tawny liquid appeared over my shoulder, the ice clinking in the cut crystal glass. Tyrell’s face came into view a couple of seconds later. “You look like you could use a stiff drink.”

Amen to that.

I gripped the glass and took a sip, savoring the initial burn of the spiced rum before the sweetness followed along behind when I swallowed.

I’d felt like a fish out of water all afternoon, which wasn’t like me at all. Normally, I’d be right in the center of things, scoping out the place for any potential conquests, enjoying the chase when I found a guy who held my interest. Instead, I sat firmly on the sidelines, propping my butt on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, out of the way as I scanned the room, more interested in trying to work out who was with whom, studying couples and how they interacted. The small touches, the glances, the secret smiles—I wanted to be them so much.

“Here’s the thing,” Ty stated clearly over the music. I turned to the left and tilted my head all the way up to look at him. “You can walk away. Make a clean break, put this brief dalliance behind you.” He shrugged. “Or you can take a deep breath and stay and fight for what you so clearly want.”

I barked out a laugh and shook my head at him. “Clichés, Tyrell, really? You should know better than that.”

His chuckle was so low, the vibrations rumbled deep in my chest. “The old ones are the best.”

“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.” I took another sip of my spiced rum. “I’m guessing Mason told you?” He nodded in reply. “I swear, he’s the biggest damn gossip of the lot of you.”

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