Page 26 of Blue Lines and Lullabies

Levi: But I still like hearing about Mackenzie!

Me: Ask Gabe about her. I won’t be used as a middlewoman.

Five minutes later, my phone rings.

“What?” I shout.

“You can’t keep information about my daughter from me!” Gabe snaps, his voice tense and angry.

“You can’t use your friend as a reconnaissance man to track down information about your daughter!” I volley. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why wouldn’t you just text me?”

“Because our text conversations have been weird. And now I don’t… fuck. Never mind.”

“What? Gabe, please talk to me. I don’t want this to be awkward between us, but you’re being super sketchy right now.”

The phone remains quiet for a few minutes. It’s quiet for so long that I pull the phone away from my ear to check if the call has been disconnected.

“I don’t know how to act around you now,” he finally says.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Since we had sex?”

“No. Since you said you needed to process things.”

Oh.

“I didn’t need to processthat,” I say hastily. “I think I ran away because I was scared of what you might say, so I wanted to beat you to the punch.”

“What did you think I might say?” Gabe asks quietly.

I hesitate, wondering if I should be truthful, before taking a deep breath and telling him what I’m thinking. “That you thought it was a mistake.”

Gabe lets out a loud exhale. “Christ, Cassie. I’d never think you were a mistake.”

My heart skips a beat at that statement. And, of course, as I’m about to ask Gabe what he wants for us, Mackenzie has an explosive diaper situation. “Crap, I gotta go. I also mean literal crap. Your daughter just shot poop out of the side of her onesie.”

“I’m oddly proud of that,” Gabe chuckles.

“Text me your questions from now on, okay? No more going through Levi.”

“I will, Firecracker.”

When the call ends, I realize he called me by the nickname he bestowed upon me the first night we met, making my insides feel gooey.

On the sixth day of the road trip, I’m lounging with Mackenzie on the living room carpet while she does tummy time, and the doorbell rings. Expecting it’s another package for Gabe, I open it without looking through the peephole. Gabe lives in a really nice neighborhood. I probably should be more careful about things when caring for his daughter, though.

At the door is a beautiful woman, and I’m immediately jealous. She’s model tall. A few inches over my own five-seven, with perfect blonde hair falling just below her shoulders. She smiles genuinely at me, and I’m unsure how to react.

“Can I help you?” I ask cordially.

“I’m hoping you can, actually,” she laughs. “I know Gabe Dawson lives here.”

My hackles immediately rise, and I’m a half-second away from slamming the door in her face when she continues. “I’m trying to reach one of Gabe’s teammates. Grant McNally?”

“May I ask what this is in regards to?” I ask.

---