Page 124 of De-Witched

Because it was safer to keep her at a distance. Because losing Leah would crush his heart.

Because...he loved her.

Nearby the chairs around an empty table flew out without warning, causing customers to squeak in surprise. Murmurs of confusion quickly followed.

Gabriel ignored it, their sounds, the hum of Tia’s voice berating him for using magic.

All of it receded as he focused on the glowing truth.

He loved Leah.

His chest seized as their conversation tore through his mind. He’d fallen back on old habits. Attacked because he’d needed her to stay at a distance, panicked he’d lose someone else he loved if they got too close. But it was too late. She’d already slipped behind his barriers, become so integral that he couldn’t imagine a day without her in it. And in return...he’d hurt her.

That pit in his stomach widened. An urge shoved through his body, to go to her, to fix it. But...

It wasn’t simply a matter of loving each other; his world could be cutthroat. Even if the High Family accepted her, other witches wouldn’t. Leah hated to be excluded, rejected, and she would be, time and time again.

She’d be welcomed in only to be left outside again.

As he sat there, the words of the others falling like misty rain upon his senses, Gabriel played over his every memory of Leah, from the balcony where she had coyly flirted with him, to the bar where she had openly challenged him, to another balcony, where she’d exposed her hidden pain for him. To the bedroom, to their fight, where once again she’d proven to be the stronger one.

And he knew what he had to do.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Leah stroked a hand down Chuck’s head as the Labrador sprawled across her lap, panting happily. She’d meant to only drop by his kennel on her way to updating the shelter’s website and social media, but hadn’t been there thirty seconds before the tears had started. She’d cried into his fur as he’d sat as her anchor, hating that she did so but unable to stop the flood. Her mom had always said crying was therapeutic, but the hole inside Leah still gaped, no better for the tears.

Her mom.

God, she hated this stupid secret even more now because even if Leah picked up the phone and called her, poured out her troubles, she couldn’t really speak to her. Not about the real reason Gabriel was pushing her away.

She wasn’t an idiot. Hurt might have buried her better sense for a minute, but she knew Gabriel. She knew what he did when he was protecting someone he cared about—he kept them away from any threat. He did it to Melly. He was doing it to her now.

Old insecurities tried to wedge in but she refused to let them. Gabriel wasn’t cruel for no reason. That had been terror she’d seen on his face before he’d rebuffed her. Because he cared more than he wanted to. How many times had he said that he didn’t want her hurt?

It was irritatingly, exasperatingly presumptuous of him to lock her out of any decision and she was so furious with him for it. Love was about trust, in her, in them. That they could do anything together.

But maybe he didn’t love her enough to try.

And that was what kept her away from Toil and Trouble when she’d thought about going after him. She’d gone to him too many times. She’d put herself out there for him, in a way she’d never done for anyone. If he wanted her, he would have to come on his knees.

She focused on Chuck, pushing aside the whispering fear that Gabriel would crawl for nobody. “He’s going to realize he needs you, too,” she told him. “Idiot warlock.” She pressed a noisy kiss to Chuck’s head to hide the wobble in her voice. He grunted and squirmed until he lay on his back.

“What do you—” she began, startled when the lights went out.

They had a skylight so it wasn’t completely pitch-black, but even so, all she could see were shapes and shadows.

“Perfect.” A fuse must have blown. Or a power surge. Something expensive that would tie Sonny’s decision to sell into a bow. The cherry on this fantastic day.

She maneuvered to her feet, hitching her phone out of her back pocket to turn the flashlight on. When she reached Chuck’s door and felt him close behind her, she gently pushed him back with her free hand.

“Sorry, baby. You have to stay here.”

Shutting the door behind her, she peered into the gloom and headed for where the fuse box was. She’d let Georgia, another volunteer, leave early, so she was the only one on-site before the next shift started.

Well, she was an independent woman, wasn’t she? She could probably figure out what the problem was. She pushed open the door that led out of the dogs’ section, the thin stream of her phone’s flashlight a beam in front.

The next thing she knew she was sent sprawling, a hard blow to her cheek crashing her into the wall. Her head knocked into the concrete painfully, face throbbing where she’d been hit.

Dazed, she glanced up, saw the outline of a figure, his hands moving in a pattern she recognized. Magic.

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