Page 34 of Witch's Promise

He'd spent years running. From his family, from his feelings, from himself. He'd built walls so high and so thick that nothing could get through. Not pain, not love, not hope. He'd told himself it was for the best, that he was protecting himself and others by staying away.

But what if he'd been wrong? What if, in trying to shield himself from pain, he'd only caused more? What if the real act ofcourage wasn't walking away, but walking towards the very thing that scared him most?

Sean's eyes fixed on Gabe's back, taking in the familiar slope of his shoulders, the way the wind ruffled his hair. God, he'd missed him. Missed him with an ache that felt like a physical wound, raw and bleeding even after all these years.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Sean's feet were moving. Each step felt like walking through molasses, his body fighting against the decision his heart had already made. But he pressed on, closing the distance between himself and the man he'd once loved. The man he still loved, if he was being honest with himself.

As Sean drew closer, he could hear the gentle lapping of the river against the shore, smell the faint scent of Gabe's cologne carried on the breeze. It was achingly familiar, a sensory memory that transported Sean back to happier times. To lazy Sunday mornings and stolen kisses and a future that had seemed so bright.

Sean's heart pounded in his chest, a rapid-fire beat that drowned out everything else. What was he going to say? How could he possibly explain his presence, his years of absence, the danger that now lurked in the shadows?

He was close enough now that he could reach out and touch Gabe if he wanted to. Close enough to see the tension in Gabe's shoulders, the way his hands gripped the railing as he stared out at the water.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come over," Gabe said, his voice soft but clear in the night air. He didn't turn around, didn't so much as twitch. "You never were very good at the whole stealth thing, Sean."

Chapter 10

Gabe

He'd been aware of Sean's presence for the past hour, maybe longer. Honestly, stealth had never been Sean's strong suit. The guy moved like a bull in a china shop, all barely contained energy and restless motion. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

A part of Gabe wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here he was being stalked by his ex-boyfriend like they were in some B-grade rom-com. If the situation weren't so fucked up, it might actually be funny.

But it wasn't funny. It was exhausting and confusing and more than a little infuriating. How the hell had Sean even known he was in Salem? And why now, after all these years of radio silence, was he suddenly playing amateur detective?

He should just turn around, confront Sean, and get this over with. But a part of him, the part that still ached when he thought about that last terrible fight, couldn't bring himself to make the first move. So he waited, tension coiling in his gut, for Sean to finally work up the courage to approach.

The crunch of gravel underfoot signaled Sean's arrival. Gabe didn't turn, keeping his eyes fixed on the distant skyline as Sean settled beside him on the low wall overlooking the river.

The familiar scent of leather and something uniquely Sean washed over him, bringing with it a flood of memories Gabe had thought long buried. Late nights studying, lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, the warmth of Sean's smile and the safety of his embrace. All the things they'd lost, thrown away in a moment of fear and misunderstanding.

Gabe's eyes flicked to the side, taking in Sean's profile. He looked good, damn him. The years had been kind, adding a rugged edge to features that had once been almost pretty. The leather jacket stretched across broad shoulders, and a motorcycle helmet dangled from his left hand.

But there was something else, too. Fresh cuts and bruises marred Sean's face, telling a story of recent violence that made Gabe's chest tighten with a mixture of concern and frustration. Same old Sean, always rushing headlong into trouble.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of hurt. Gabe knew he should say something, ask the questions that had been burning in his mind for years. But what came out instead was:

"What happened to your face?"

Sean's laugh was startled, a rough bark of sound that seemed to surprise even him. "Really? That's the first thing you ask? Not, 'Oh hey, how are you?'"

Gabe shrugged, fighting to keep his expression neutral. He was trying really hard not to snap at Sean, to maintain some semblance of control over this surreal situation. "Just making an observation."

Sean's smile faded, his hand coming up to touch the bruise blooming along his jawline. "It's nothing. Just got into a fight."

"A fight," Gabe repeated, his tone flat. He could feel his carefully constructed calm starting to crack. "Of course you did. Because that's what you do, right? Gets into fights and leaves without explanation."

The words came out sharper than he'd intended, years of pent-up hurt and anger bleeding into his voice. Sean flinched, and Gabe felt a twinge of satisfaction followed quickly by guilt. This wasn't how he'd wanted this to go.

"I deserved that," Sean said quietly, his eyes fixed on the water.

Gabe felt a twinge of guilt at the defeated tone in Sean's voice, but he pushed it aside. He'd spent too many years making excuses for Sean's behavior, trying to understand the incomprehensible. Not this time. This time, he needed answers.

"How did you even know I was in Salem?" Gabe asked, the words coming out more accusatory than he'd intended. He watched Sean's profile carefully, looking for any tell-tale signs of deception.

Sean shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against his thigh. "I, uh, saw you in the coffee shop. By accident."

The lie was so blatant it was almost insulting. Gabe felt a surge of frustration, bitter and familiar. Same old Sean, always hiding something, always keeping secrets.

---