Page 17 of Salvation

“You’re my salvation.”

My breath catches, and I squeeze my eyes shut, as I hear the raw pain in his voice.

Finally, I remove my hand and lean back. He lets me and watches me with careful expectation.

Asking a question, I really don’t want the answer to, I ask, “Was he right? Luke… Was he right about what happened yesterday, Gabrial?”

I’m not certain he’s going to answer me. He’s so quiet, but finally he sits back and regards me. His eyes are hooded, and his arms are lying flat at his sides. His long fingers are splayed out on the cushions of the couch. I’d think he was perfectly calm, but his bare chest is rapidly rising and falling showing he is not as calm and collected as he outwardly appears.

He flatly asks, “Right about what?”

Is this really happening? Am I really asking Gabrial about his business? I’ve always made certain NOT to ask him. I know that ignoring it won’t make it go away, or make it not be real, but I always figured if I don’t know, then I can’t judge.

So, Hope… do you really want to know, and once you do know… what will you do with the information?

Staring at him, I ask calmly, though my heart is racing so fast that I’m fearful it will actually leave my chest, “Do you know where that woman Luke is looking for is?”

He stares at me and then nods. Only once. “She is safe. I didn’t harm her. I would never harm her.”

The breath whooshes out of my chest. “I didn’t think you would harm a woman. But why do you have her?”

He rests his ankle on his knee and sits back, stretching his arm out along the chair back. “I didn’t say I had her. I don’t. I said I know where she is.” His other hand rakes through his hair and the dark waves spring around his head. I know what this conversation is doing to him. He never allows himself to be this open. “Hope, for your own protection, I will not tell you anymore. But yes, I do know where she is. She needs help and she’s getting it. That’s all you need to know. And now I’m going to ask you to keep this information I’ve shared with you to yourself.”

He got the murdered man’s wife help? What kind of help? Why would he help the wife of a man who essentially stole from him?

He’s not going to tell me anything else and in all honesty and as pathetic as it sounds, I don’t want to know any more anyway.

If I know, I’ll be inclined to tell Luke. I can’t keep things like this from him.

As it is… I’m going to have to tell him that Gabrial says the woman is safe and receiving help. Even though he’s expressly asked me not to divulge that information.

Luke needs to know that Gabrial did not harm her though. I cannot have him thinking the opposite.

This is exactly why Luke doesn’t like me hanging around Gabrial and why Gabrial excludes me from his business dealings.

Because I don’t WANT to be in the middle.

You ARE in the middle, Hope! Face it! You’re sleeping with Gabrial and also involved with Luke…

They’re like the angel and the demon and I’m the fucking weapon that can take them both down.

Though aren’t most demons fallen angels?

The emotional exhaustion of the entire predicament overtakes me, and I feel myself slumping on the couch.

Gabrial stands and effortlessly scoops me into his arms. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head and carries me up the stairs before lying me in his bed and tucking me in. His pants are dropped to the floor, and he climbs in, his naked body curving around me, spooning me, cocooning me in his embrace. He pulls me back slightly so that my head is tucked into the curve of his shoulder.

His lips press against my neck, and I hear his whispered, “I love you, Hope,” right before I drift into a tumultuous sleep.

* * *

“Maia,what happened to the box of blankets that was stacked near the door when I left last night?” I call out through the open doorway of my office. I’ve been looking for the blankets for half an hour, but they are nowhere to be found in here.

I need to get them down to the bunk room and place them on the beds for the women and children to use tonight.

There’s no answer from the desk, so crossing the room, I peek out to see if Maia is even at it. She’s not.

Sighing, I head into the hall and stomp to the front of the shelter. We have a small desk with a sitting area, consisting of a couple of couches and comfortable chairs in front of it. All of the furniture is donated, but we keep it clean and try to make the lobby area warm and inviting.

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