Page 122 of De-Witched

Fury and hurt still battled in her blood, but she chose her next words with care. “They can’t come back and approve of you, Gabe.” She flinched when something—the bedside table drawers—banged. “You can’t, you shouldn’t, live for them. You should do what makes you happy.”

“And I suppose that’s you?” He didn’t sneer but she felt it anyway. “A woman so desperate to be included when she’s not even sure why she wants to be?”

She pressed her lips together tight enough to hurt.

“Grow up,” he snapped. “This isn’t magical cocktails and portalling abroad. It’s real and dangerous. And you pushing your way in because you hold a child’s fantasy that magic is amazing is not going to end well.”

“That’s not why,” she protested, stomach cramping from the look in his eyes. Not her Gabe. “I told you; I don’t know if I’d want to live in that kind of world again.”

“Then why even suggest putting yourself in the High Family’s line of fire?” he shot back.

“Because I love you.”

Her words, ripped from the depths of her, might as well have been a slap as he took a step back. A surge of emotions lit his eyes, and she swore something like terror flared bright before everything got sucked out. His mask rolled down. “No.”

She had to take a breath. “Yes,” she said, quieter. “Believe it or don’t, but I love you. I would sacrifice living a normal life for you.” She pleaded with her eyes as she looked across the divide at him. Hope gave her one last push. “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

She read it in his face before he’d made his decision.

And the rejection sliced her heart in two before he even crossed to the door and walked away.

“What the hell?” Tia’s voice rang out across the bar, slicing neatly through the murmur of casual conversations.

Across from where Gabriel sat, Henry’s entire body stiffened.

Bastian whistled silently and cast his eyes down, rolling his beer bottle in his hands. “Uh-oh.”

Gabriel barely noticed. He hadn’t really been present this entire time, his whole body locked up with the effort not to betray the emotion rattling around inside of him.

I love you.

He’d known Henry would only hound him if he hadn’t shown, so he’d dutifully reported to the bar and sat in silence as the other two traded friendly insults. If he could have left without arousing suspicion, he would have.

She didn’t love him. It was impossible. A terrible thought. Terrifying. And so tempting his body trembled.

Desperate for relief, he looked up to see Tia barreling down on them, dressed in a violent red sweater and jeans ripped at the knee. Violent was the right word, he thought, as murder glinted hotly in her eyes. With another witch, he might have expected a physical manifestation of the temper, but not Tia Hightower. She stopped in front of their table, hands on hips.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shot at Henry.

He sent her a steely look. Just like that, the easygoing man transformed into a stiff, combative warlock. “Hello, Tia.”

“You’re drinking. At my bar.”

“Seems like it. Why?” He arched one deliberate eyebrow. “Does it bother you?”

Gabriel swore he felt heat coming off her as she snapped, “You bother me.”

“I understand. Old ties can be so hard to cut for some people.” Gabriel knew when his friend was being deliberately baiting.

“I cut ties with you the second you didn’t stand with me.”

Henry’s face quivered, the effort of restraining an expression.

Seeing it, Tia laughed harshly. “Of course, how could I forget? Can’t possibly show too much emotion in front of anyone. Easier to walk away.”

“I didn’t walk away,” he bit out.

“Yes. You. Did.”

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