Page 12 of Claiming What Is Mine

Log that under stupid crap adults do.

I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “I can’t take you home. If someone here doesn’t spot us leaving together, someone at your place will surely take notice.”

“You don’t have to take me home. My truck’s at the church.” Gabe wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. “I can call one of my brothers to pick me up if you think that would be better,” he whispers as he nuzzles my neck.

Shit.

It feels so right to be in his arms like this. To have his lips grazing my skin. His breath moving in my hair. Wait. What am I talking about? This is the guy that broke my heart. Only a crazy woman would think this feels right. Everything about it is wrong.

I pull away from his grasp and lurch out of bed. “No. That would not be better. Let’s assume we manage to get you out of my room without anyone noticing. It would be weird for me to leave without saying a word to anyone. But for a Wilde to come up the drive, stop in front of the house, and then you stroll out and climb in the truck? We might as well set off a nuclear bomb.” I put my head in my hands and massage my temples while I think. “I’ll take you. But we need to be quiet, and we need to go. Now.”

“Sure thing—let me grab my pants and we’ll scoot. Wanna stop for breakfast at Belle’s? My treat.”

Are you kidding me? I’m trying to hide this…this thing that should never have happened, and you want to parade it around town?“Maybe some other time.”

“Deal.” Gabe smiles, proud of himself. For what, I have no idea. “Hey,” he whispers as he leans over the edge of my bed. “Where’s my t-shirt?”

I scan the room. “I don’t see it. Are you sure you were wearing one? Doesn’t matter, we don’t have time. If I find it, I’ll mail it to you. Now, let’s go.” I pull him out of the bed.

Gabe hastily gathers his things while I slip on a pair of sweatpants and slide into my fuzzy slippers. As we sneak out of the house, I go full ninja, tip-toeing around, easing doors back, peering down halls, searching for signs of life. I bring my index finger to my lips. “Shhh. Follow my lead, okay?”

Gabe has his suit jacket and patent leather dress shoes in his hands. His dress shirt hangs down over his pants, half buttoned and untucked. My God. That chest. It should be against the law for someone so selfish to look that good. I want to run my hands through the dark hair on his pecs and squeeze.

Focus, Mer! Now is not the time for your hormones to run the show.

His poor face is smashed and I’m sure, if he feels anything like me, he’s beyond miserable, but he doesn’t complain. “If we make it to the kitchen, we can sneak out the side door and avoid the living room,” I whisper.

I can barely hear it, but the television is on, which means Daddy is awake. Of course, he is. It doesn’t matter what time he went to bed, the man’s been up before the sun every day since forever. Gabe and I make our way out the side door in relative silence and I sprint for the car, clicking away at the key fob without thinking about the inexorable chirp that follows. I pull the door open and slide into the driver’s seat. Safe.

Where’s Gabe? I look back and see him scurrying across the gravel in his socks, wincing as he raises his feet in pain with each step. A minute later he opens the door and hops in, skipping the seatbelt to rub his feet instead.

“I’m sorry about this,” I say as I back the car around and gun it down the long drive. “I’m sure you’re feeling awful right now, but—thank you. I’ll make it up to you. Somehow.”

“I understand. You’re not ready for people to know about us yet. I get it. I’m in no rush, I’m just glad to have you back.”

Back? Can he honestly believe one wonderfully awful mistake like last night earned him a place back in my life? I don’t care—hell, I can’t care—that being with him feels like crawling into bed after a long day. Does a warm feeling have any place in a life-altering decision? Being with Gabe always feels right. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong.

I clear my throat. “Gabe. About last night…”

“Yeah, Doll?”

“I mean, it was great, but…it can’t happen again. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need a little help with that one.” He looks out the window. “We’re great together. We always were. Was I not? Last night…I mean, I know I was drunk, but didn’t you…?”

“You were fine—and I definitely did.” More than once. A smile breaks across my lips. “But that’s hardly the point.”

Gabe places his hand on my thigh. “Mer. Last night. Whatever I told you. I mean, I may not remember every detail right this moment, but I know I put it all out there. And I know every word was true. Because, well…that’s what you deserve. Please, I’m not asking for you to forgive and forget. I’m only asking you to forgive and…and give me a chance to show you I’ve changed. I feel it in my soul. I’ve missed you for as long as I can remember, and I’m not about to lose you again.”

I take my eyes off the road and glance at him. So pathetic, sitting there half-dressed with his face swollen and bruised. Could he really be feeding me bullshit? In his condition? It’s all too much; my head throbs and my heart is tangled.

“I don’t know. I need time to think. My life is crazy enough already. I don’t see how adding you to the mix would be a good idea.”

“That’s not a no. I can work with that,” Gabe says confidently. “All I need is time. You’ll see.”

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