Page 56 of A Little More Forgiveness

“Fuck off.”

So I’d been relegated to Gabe again? I ignored him. Childish, maybe, but the last person I wanted to see was the man who’d given me the slightest ray of hope for things I shouldn’t fucking want.

Bastard.

“Stop acting like a fucking child and open the door.”

Jesus, was he a mind reader now too?

I took another swig of wine. “Go away, you fucking liar.”

Another couple of bangs on the glass. “Open the goddamn door, Gabriel.” I hated the fact that him saying my full name sent the same damn shivers down my spine. “I want to apologize. Again. And I can’t do that properly if I can’t see you. So open the door, and come inside. It’s freezing out here, but I’m not leaving without you.”

I wanted to scream in frustration at his ability to appeal directly to my conscience. His stubbornness would keep him out in the cold all night long, but I’d be damned if I was going to be the guy to let his balls, or any other appendage for that matter, freeze and drop off.

Cutting the engine also cut the radio and left behind an overpowering silence. Unlocking and throwing open the door, I didn’t care if he stood in the way and got hit or not, I shot out of what had fast become my second home and, ignoring him completely, stomped my way across the yard and onto the porch, instantly annoyed at the welcome heat and comfort the homey cabin provided when I entered. I cursed under my breath. This place wasn't my home, for fuck’s sake—it was my prison.

Flopping down into the leather wingback, as no way did I want any chance of him sitting too near me, I glowered at him as he came in behind me and calmly took off his jacket and boots and sat down on the couch.

I took another swig of wine from the bottle. “So apologies,” I spat. “Again.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mitch

Every damn time, I managed to shove my foot firmly in my mouth with Gabriel Sanchez, and every damn time, I ended up cursing myself from here to Sunday. You’d think I’d have learned with him by now, but nope, given the chance, I’d mess up every single time.

He repeatedly gave the impression he didn’t care what anybody thought about him, but he didn’t fool me. The merest whiff of a lie or secret had his defense mechanism surfacing, making him lash out at whomever of us he perceived to be the culprit. The man was running from something, and I had no idea what, but I recognized the signs —I’d been running for years, after all.

“What’s happening on the holidays?”

His glower deepened to full-on daggers. Something was almost certainly happening soon, or had previously, for him to be so upset about the date.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re apologizing to me.”

“I will,” I replied calmly. “After you speak to me.”

“Fuck this.” He went to get up, making me leap off my seat and over to him in a second, then place my hands on both arms of the chair, caging him in. “You never said there would be conditions attached,” he sniped, and as he smiled, a chill swept over me at how dead his eyes had become. “Oh, wait. Is this another of your lies to get me inside? Of course, it fucking is.”

“Jesus. Okay.” The man made me want to howl in frustration. “I’m fucking sorry, all right? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I purposely slowed my rapid pulse rate and tried to calm down. “I’m sorry,” I repeated more gently.

He grunted like he didn’t care and the pout on his lips made him look cute rather than angry. I crouched in front of him, careful not to touch. He steadfastly refused to look at me. “What’s happening on the holidays?” I asked again and caught the flash of pain in his eyes. “Tell me, Gabriel.” Now I did touch, placing a hand on his knee and rubbing gently. “Please.” He shifted, clearly uncomfortable but didn’t move my hand away, something I was grateful for. I couldn’t explain why, but I needed to touch him, and I believed he needed the contact too.

From the rustling sound behind me, I guessed Leo had come into the sitting area. I didn’t hear him get any closer but sensed his presence and his gaze on us. I wanted to turn and acknowledge him but needed to focus all my attention on Gabe, who still hadn’t answered my question.

He kept silent for a long, long time, and when he spoke, his words were no more than a whisper. “They’re getting married.”

Oh, he must be talking about some friends of his.

“And because you’re stuck here you won’t be able to make the wedding?” Seemed logical, I guess, though I didn’t get why that had him so upset. Surely, they’d understand if he told them the circumstances.

A dark and humorless laugh followed, and for a brief second, I guessed he might have a bigger role, was maybe a groomsman or something, and the people really needed him to be there. Instead, the first cracks appeared in his armor, as his eyes turned glassy, and he bit down hard on his lower lip to prevent from breaking down.

I reached up to ease his lip free with the tips of my fingers, and when he looked directly at me, my heart broke at all the pain and torment clouding his gaze. I wanted to drag him into my arms and hug him so hard, but I knew he’d reject my comfort as he wasn’t ready for solace, not yet.

“Karl and David,” he choked, struggling to speak. “My ex-boyfriends.”

Boyfriends. Plural.

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