Page 5 of Officer Gabriel

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Gabriel shakes his head at me, a playful sigh escaping his lips. "He's with my parents for the night. They'll take him to school in the morning as well, nosy Nelly."

"Oh, well, that sounds reasonable, I suppose." The mention of his parents sparks my imagination, making me wonder what he was like as a child. Was he as curious and captivated by science as Damon is? Did he possess that same insatiable thirst for knowledge, always wanting to learn more? Or was he the adventurous type, forever in search of the next great mission to embark upon? "Tell me what you were like when you were Damon's age," I prompt, eager to hear the tales of his youth.

Gabriel starts chopping the potatoes into smaller, manageable pieces, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filling the kitchen. "I was quiet," he says, a small smile creeping across his face as he reflects on his past. "I observed everything around me because I was too scared to participate in it. What if I got it wrong? Or what if I looked stupid doing it? So, I always wanted to be the last person to try something new in a group. That way, I could watch everyone else do it first and figure out the best way to approach it. I was a very analytical child."

I didn't expect that revelation. He didn't strike me as the kind of six-year-old who cared deeply about the opinions of others, or who focused so intently on getting things right that it held him back.

"I was about twelve years old when I kind of broke out of that shell and went crazy," he continues, his eyes lighting up with the thrill of nostalgia. "Junior high and high school were my wild years." He looks up from the potatoes, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face, as if he can't quite believe the escapades of his youth. "My mom and dad could tell you stories about me tearing up the high school football field with my car, getting drunk on Friday nights, and even getting arrested when I was seventeen years old. But that's ultimately what set me on the right path." The hint of mischief in his voice reveals that those reckless moments were not just about rebellion; they were part of a journey that shaped the man he has become.

Gabriel takes the cutting board over to the boiling water and slowly begins sliding the sliced potatoes in, the gentle splash of each piece breaking the surface tension and releasing a burst of steam. "I never wanted to be a police officer, you know?" He shakes his head and shrugs at me, his expression a mix of nostalgia and disbelief. "I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew it wasn't that. I had a deep-rooted hatred for the police because for five or six years, they were always trying to bring me down, like I was some sort of delinquent. They called my parents because I was truant or they'd stop me on the side of the road for being out past curfew. Stuff like that. Ihatedthe cops."

I'm fascinated, my head resting on my hand as I watch him with honest intent. My eyes are wide open, fully engaged in his story, absorbing every detail as if it were a precious secret. The Gabriel Livingston that I thought I knew is nothing like the history he's opening up about, revealing layers of complexity I never imagined existed beneath his surface.

"Then one day, I get arrested for side-swiping a vehicle and leaving the scene of the crime. This police officer, Robert Warren, sits me down and asks me what I'm doing with my life. I'm seventeen, I'm a hard-headed near-adult, and I don't have to answer to him." Gabriel chuckles at the memory, the sound tinged with irony. "But he keeps pushing me. He brings me a donut, the kind that’s still warm, and we sit there, and he tells me about how he hates cops, but he likes donuts and he likes helping people. He told me that he wanted to help me. He's seen me around, he’s heard the stories, whatever. He wants to help me figure out what I'm doing with my life, and for the first time, someone actually cares."

Gabriel lets the potatoes continue boiling in the water, the steam rising in gentle curls, and leans against the kitchen island, just a few feet away from me. "We spent the next six months together every weekend, forging an unlikely friendship. Officer Warren and I painted fences as part of my community service obligation. Sure, it was my sentence, but he insisted on helping because he said he didn't want me to feel like the world had hung me out to dry. He wanted to ensure I wasn’t lonely during that time. When I picked up trash along the side of the road, he joined me, making the task feel less like punishment and more like a shared mission. And when I served food at the soup kitchens for the homeless, he was right there beside me, ladling out soup with a smile. You know what? He did it with a better heart than I did. He genuinely cared about those people, and it showed. I watched him hand out his business card with his personal number scrawled on the back, telling people how to reach him if they needed help finding clothes for job interviews or even a warm shower to clean up. Officer Warren wasn’t bullshitting when he said he liked donuts and helping people; he embodiedthat sentiment. He was a big dude, but more importantly, he was a big dude with an even bigger heart."

"I entered the Police Academy just before my twentieth birthday, filled with youthful ambition and dreams of making a difference. By the time I was twenty-two, fate dealt a cruel hand when Officer Warren was shot while on duty. It was one of those rare, freak accidents that shook the entire department to its core, leaving a palpable void in the community. Gabriel purses his lips thoughtfully, his eyes momentarily clouded with memories before he shrugs off the weight of the past. 'I've been a lot of different people over the years, shaped by experiences that have come and gone. But right now? I'm a man who loves my son with all my heart. I'm a man who goes to work every day, donning my badge with pride, striving to serve the people I meet in any way that I can. And I'm a man who finds joy in the company of a beautiful woman sitting just three feet away from me right now.'

God damn it. I think I'm falling in love with this police officer, and the realization hits me like a freight train, leaving me both exhilarated and terrified."

5

GABRIEL

Ididn't mean to say all those things to Luna. They tumbled out of my mouth faster than I could stop them, as if they had a mind of their own. I wanted to slap my hands over my mouth, to demand that they stay inside of me, but each word that slipped out felt like a step in the right direction, even if it was terrifying.

The only other person I'd ever admitted those things to had been Damon's mom. She and I had known each other since our freshman year, and she quickly became one of my closest partners in crime. We had shared secrets, laughter, and the occasional late-night escapade, building a bond that felt unbreakable. Then, one fateful day, I found unexpected grace with Officer Warren, and she was left confused and conflicted about what to do next. Somehow, we navigated through the emotional upheaval, stumbling into a fulfilling relationship that ultimately ended with Damon. Yet, she was not quite as fulfilled as I had been. Her sudden departure in the middle of the night served as proof that once a bad girl, always a bad girl—at least in her case.

Now, Luna and I sit across from each other, sipping on rich red wine as we enjoy a hearty dinner of steak and potatoes. It’s not exactly a sexy dinner dish, but it’s one of my best attempts at culinary prowess. "I'm really sorry about all that honesty and truth earlier," I say, wincing as I recall my unfiltered words. "I didn’t mean to come forward about all that. I’m pretty sure that’s like, a first date taboo." The admission hangs between us, heavy with the weight of what I had shared.

But Luna's always been a go-with-the-flow kind of woman. Ever since that night I called her out of nowhere and asked her to babysit a total stranger's kid, she's approached life with an easygoing attitude. "Gabriel, don’t worry about it. For starters, we've known each other for over a month now. I think we’re past that initial awkward stage in our relationship. At this point, we’re just feeling each other out to see if we have anything in common besides Damon."

Her words wrap around me like a warm blanket, igniting a sense of comfort I didn’t know I needed. The fact that the thing we share most in common is my son feels both absurd and oddly reassuring. "Well, I think it’s only fair you tell me something private about yourself," I challenge playfully, curiosity bubbling up inside me.

She lifts a forkful of steak to her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, as if weighing the importance of her next words. I hope she knows that she isn’t obligated to share anything too personal if she doesn’t want to.

"That first morning when you came home and found me in your bed?" Luna says after she swallows down her bite of steak, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was having a sex dream about you."

I almost choke on my mashed potatoes. The creamy texture sticks in my throat, and as if to add insult to injury, a rogue pepper flake lodges itself in the tight space, forcing me to cough in an effort to dislodge it. Nobody prepared me for her to drop a bombshell like that.

Luna's eyes widen in alarm when she notices my distress, and she stands up, ready to rush over and lend a hand. But I quickly raise my hand to signal her to stop. “I’m fine,” I manage to croak out between coughs, “I just need some water.” After a few desperate sips, the pepper flake finally shifts, and all that remains is a lingering sense of embarrassment mixed with an overwhelming surge of curiosity about what I just heard.

"Luna," I say once my throat is clear, my voice still slightly hoarse, "I say this with as much respect as I can muster." I’m sure that sentiment carries a heavy weight. "You what?"

A smile battles for control of her lips, a mixture of mischief and delight dancing in her eyes. I’m not sure if she feels any embarrassment over her admission or if she’s simply enjoying the effect it had on me. "You had me in handcuffs and?—"

I've got to stop her now before things spiral beyond my control. A heat builds within me, my cock growing harder with each tantalizing word she utters. "Alright, I've got the picture. If you say any more, we won't make it through dinner. My reaction would hardly qualify as first date etiquette."

"And?" She replies, a playful smirk gracing her lips as she raises an eyebrow, challenging me. "You seem to have already broken first date etiquette once. Why not do it again?"

My fork clatters to the table, the sound echoing in the charged atmosphere. Is she really implying what I think she is?

I struggle to recall the last time I had sex—it's been ages, probably over a year, with a woman I dared not bring home. I’ve always been wary of introducing anyone to Damon, especially those who wouldn't stick around. But Luna, she feels different. "Luna," I say, my voice low and deep, a hint of urgency threading through my words, "what exactly are you saying?"

She bites her bottom lip, the candlelight casting a warm glow that makes her look utterly delectable. "I'm saying who really cares about first date rules, Gabriel?"

I hesitate, the thought of Damon looming over me like a dark cloud. What if this moment ruins our friendship? What if Luna decides she no longer wants to babysit him, leaving me with the weight of that loss? But it doesn’t matter; her words are etched into my mind, a fiery brand that ignites a desperate need within me. They propel me out of my seat and across the dinner table, as if some unseen force is guiding my movements.

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