Page 61 of Rogue

“I’ll put these in some water,” I say. “Follow me.”

I still have no idea how to respond. Or what all this means. Or whether I can trust it. Which is the biggest question of them all.

“What is this, like two dozen roses?” I ask as I look back at him.

“What can I say, you just got all the flowers I never sent any other woman,” he says. “Because you’re worth it.”

And that shuts me right back up.

Thankfully, the doctor’s lounge is empty and I busy myself finding the biggest glass I can find to fill with water for the flowers. When I turn to face him after depositing the flowers into an XXL LA Lakers refillable soda cup, he’s standing so close to me I can feel the heat emanating off his body. It feels better than the sun.

“I didn’t want you think I was eating my words,” he says as he places his hands on my waist. “We’re riding to finish what we started the night we met, and I didn’t want you thinking I was standing you up for anything less than that.”

I place the makeshift vase on the counter and lay my hands on his waist, finally touching him too, like I wanted to since I saw him. The roses are still giving off their strong, gentle scent and it’s the perfect backdrop to all this.

“You mean the night you got shot?” I ask.

He grins. “That was just a fluke. But yeah, the night you stitched me up and saved my life.”

“You’re exaggerating,” I say. “The wound wasn’t that bad.”

“Maybe not that one,” he says, his eyes turning velvet soft. “You mended more than just that wound when you stitched me up that night. You fixed my heart too. I never thought I’d get to feel so much again for a woman, but I feel it for you.”

If any other guy said that to me, I’d call him a liar.

But I feel the truth of his words deep in my chest, deep in my heart. In my very soul.

“And what do you feel for me?” I ask, cracking a coy little grin.

So what if I need to hear it? I’ve waited my whole life for a guy to say this to me. And I’ll say it right back. With no reservations.

“It’s really not just one thing,” he says, grinning too, playing along with my little game. “That I can’t spend more than a couple of hours without you is one thing. That I think about you every waking moment, and dream about you when I do manage to sleep is another. And I also can’t imagine not having you by my side forever.”

My knees are so soft I can’t believe I’m still standing upright.

“In short, I’m in love with you,” he says.

And then my legs very nearly do give way.

Good thing he’s holding me and I’m holding him.

“Are you sure?” my traitorous, fearful, cynical tongue asks. “I’m just a club whore after all.”

He holds me tighter. “Yeah, well, I ain’t perfect either.”

Then he kisses me, and all those little pockets of dark thoughts and doubt inside just pop all at once, dissolving and disappearing into the rose scented perfectness that is his lips on mine, his arms holding me tight, his passion for me. The pureness of his words and his soul. The bliss that is hearing that he loves me.

“But now I really gotta go,” he says as he stops the kiss much too soon.

I still don’t know if I can stand on my own, but once he releases me, I have to.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better come back soon,” I whisper, nothing better coming to my mind.

He’s already opening the door by the time the right words finally come to me.

“I love you too, Gabriel,” I say, or yell more like.

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