Page 75 of Good Guy Gabe

At the one person I was willing to share my life with again.

At the man I was so damn excited to make a family with that I thought there was no way I could be fooled again.

“Shhh,” he says yet again, this time talking to my mind or the tears pooling or the whole cosmic disaster this is.

And again, it teases words from me. “Why couldn’t you have been the one?”

“Why can’t I still be?” he counters, but it’s not a challenge.

It’s a release.

He leans down and kisses my neck below my ear, trailing down to nibble my shoulder, releasing me from anything but the heady sensation of our bodies joining the way they join best, deep and hot and at all points.

We come together this time, and it’s enough that if this had been a decade ago and I’d never been destroyed by Brian, my foolish heart would be ready to forgive Gabe.

Maybe he gets that. Maybe I do something that makes it clear even if I don’t catch myself doing it. Or maybe Gabe’s a bit salty still or making good on his promise. Whatever it is, Gabe stands up, stretches, fastens his pants, and says, “You can clean up your own mess this time,” before heading back downstairs.

Chapter 31

Gabe

“YOU MADE IT!”Evan yells as I walk up to his front door, saving me the embarrassment of not knowing if I should let myself in like I always used to or if I’m back to the knock stage. It’s weird losing and regaining a friend. Sure, I’ve reconnected with people. High school buddies when I returned to Minnesota after college, teammates from Iowa who I met again in the pros. Hell, we even had one guy, Peltham, who was with us on the Colts, got traded to the Packers my second year, and ended up with the Jugs this year.

Evan’s always been right here, a couple blocks down from the intersection I drive through every time I go to Camden Square. I was seeing him six days a week all season. So I don’t know.

It feels like I just saw Shelby yesterday, but it’s been half a year. Crazy how time flies.

Time wouldn’t have flown for her. Six months is a blink of an eye when I’ve got about thirty more years behind me. For Shelby, I’ve missed out on half of her life.

But Evan opens that door for me, hugs me like he hasn’t seen me in a decade, and says, “We’re about to beat the crap out of each other in Mortal Kombat. You want in?”

It’s an easy out. Just drop down on his sofa, take a controller, piss away the afternoon mashing buttons. Ease myself back in and slip away from my thoughts.

But I need to get stuff handled. And in the absence of handling the stuff I truly do need to handle — specifically, Joss and my career — I’m going to get this fixed.

I luck out that Dom and Lin are in the kitchen while Keira, Cadence, and Wren are elsewhere. Seeing the chicken nuggie, mac and cheese, and applesauce explosion Dom’s handling while Lin’s got baby Isaiah and a bottle in one hand, dumping a can of Coke into a pressure cooker with the other, I’m guessing the ladies are dealing with bath time. Dom’s baby, Valeria, and Shelby are about the same age, both born last season, so they’re food bombs.

I turn the oven on and toss my tater tot hot dish in to warm it up, scoop the baby and bottle out of Lin’s arm, and hazard a glance into the cooker to see what sort of dessert Lin’s cooking up.

Chicken wings.

Huh.

“It’s Coca Cola wings,” Lin says defensively even though I haven’t said anything. “They’re huge in China.”

“I love Chinese food,” I tell him.

“Yeah, but that’s not real Chinese food. This is real Chinese food.”

I have to hide my smirk and look him dead in the eye to keep from looking like I’m ridiculing the ancient Chinese secret of . . . Coke. Some of the Jugs can be dicks to Lin. And they will absolutely go for low-hanging fruit like Lin’s rice-heavy diet.

Merrick eats at least a cup of rice a day, usually with dry chicken and a steamed vegetable. It doesn’t make any sense tocriticize Lin when his fried rice is life-changing. My friends are dicks.

“I like real Chinese food, too. Really, I just wanted this baby.”

He is a fuckingchunkof a baby, too. Fat rolls for days. Looks like he’d fight me if I took the bottle away, and he’d probably shriek loudly enough he’d win. I want to gobble him up.

That has Dom, Lin, and Evan exchanging nods like they’re on to me. I roll my eyes. “Pfft, you knew this was happening. Don’t act like you didn’t. Come on, Isaiah, you’re mine now.” Before the guys have the chance to razz me, I steal Isaiah off down the hall, following the sounds of squealing toddlers.

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