Page 58 of Finding Home

“She said that the night of the accident, Carrie called to ask you for a ride, but you missed the call.” Hope watched him closely, but his steely gaze gave nothing away. “So she went, and on the drive back there was an accident and—and—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.

Gabe laughed darkly. “My sister doesn’t have her facts right.” He scrubbed a rough hand down his face and blew out a breath. “I didn’t miss her call. I ignored it. I saw that call come in, but I was in the middle of something at work that couldn’t wait.” As he spoke his tone was mirthless, his eyes increasingly distant, like he wasn’t here with her but somewhere far away. “I hit ‘ignore’ thinking I’d call her back in a minute, but of course that minute never came. Next thing I knew, two cops were in my bar telling me that there’d been an accident and my wife and baby were at the hospital.”

Hope murmured his name, unsure of what else to say or do. She felt so helpless, watching him relive the worst of his life through the reflection of his eyes.

“Carrie was an ER nurse. Shifts. Brutal ones. Some twelve hours long. Some longer. Often through the night. Those were the worst. She went back to work three months after Ruby was born when her mat leave ended. She was still breastfeeding, so when she worked nights I’d bottle feed Ruby the milk she pumped.”

Hope listened, the story unraveling in her mind like a live action film. An exhausted mother pumping breastmilk during breaks at work so her husband could feed their baby on nights she wasn’t home.

“The bar was less than a year old. I was always there. It took up all my time. During days when Carrie wasn’t at the hospital, she was with Ruby. She was doing everything. Burning the candle on both ends. But I didn’t see it. I just didn’t fucking see it. I was too wrapped up in making the bar a success thinking it was the only way I could provide for my new family. And she never complained. She never—so I didn’t see how tired she was. How worn out. I was so fucking blind.”

Something in his voice caught, and tears immediately spilled over Hope’s eyes in response. Watching a man like Gabe become emotional—it was gut-wrenching. But it was also the most she’d ever heard him speak about his wife or her death. She didn’t want to interrupt him.

He brought a knuckle to his eye and dug it in. “Ruby was in a daycare twenty minutes away from the house we lived in at the time. That evening—that evening after a twelve-hour shift Carrie called me. She wanted me to come pick her and Ruby up because she was so fucking exhausted she didn’t trust herself to drive.” He dropped his hand to his lap, eyes lost in the past. “The phone rang and I was in the middle of something, so I let it go to voicemail. She left a message. I just thought I’d listen to it later, whenever I was done with whatever the fuck I was doing that I thought was more important at the time.” A muscle popped in his jaw, and Hope guessed he probably couldn’t even remember what he’d been doing at the time he’d missed his wife’s call. “I must have listened to that message a thousand times afterwards.”

Silence sat between them like an uninvited guest, glaring and awkward.

Then Gabe’s eyes refocused on Hope’s as he slowly came back to her. “So, you see, Hope. I ignored my family, and my wife died thinking that this goddam bar was more important to me than her life. She died knowing that I wasn’t there when she needed me.”

If he’d sounded cold before, he sounded utterly without emotion now. But she knew that wasn’t the case. She could feel the anguish, remorse, and despair rolling off him in waves.

Tears flooded her eyes as she shook her head. Had he really thought that for all these years? “No, Gabe, she didn’t think that. This bar was your family’s livelihood. You were in it together. I’m sure she understood that. If she had really thought she couldn’t handle it, she would have tried harder to get a hold of you. Or called someone else.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” he said grimly.

“You’re right, it wasn’t.” Still squatting in front of him, Hope reached up and ran her palm along the curve of his jaw, holding his gaze so she could be sure he was really listening to her. “But it wasn’t yours, either.”

There was no stopping the tears that streamed down her cheeks, mourning the loss of life, the years of anguish, the woman who never got to truly experience motherhood, the child who never got to know her mother, and the man in front of her who’d spent every hour since blaming himself for it all.

“Gabe, at some point you’re going to have to stop living your life like lightning will strike twice every time you let a little bit of trust in.”

She found she couldn’t stop touching his face, running her fingers over his eyes, his mouth, his jaw, wanting to soothe the pain away, but he lifted his hands now to cover hers, stilling her movements. For a moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes. Deep brown against molten green.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, and by the way the words came out, like there was just a thin passage in his throat for them to escape, she could tell he was being as vulnerable as he’d ever let himself be.

“Give some of it to me. Let me help you carry the fear.” It was all she could offer him. “We’ll calm it together.” It was all she could promise.

When he finally released her, it was only to envelop her face between his hands and crush his lips against hers. Spreading his thighs wider, he dragged her even closer, pulling her up on her knees so her torso came flush with his. Then, weaving his hands through her hair, he simply devoured.

Hope wasn’t sure she’d even call what was happening a kiss. It was raw and greedy, possessive and frantic, as though he were pouring every last ounce of emotion into this one all-consuming connection. She could only loop her arms around his neck and hold on as she met each stroke of his tongue with one of her own. The fire built between them until the heat they were creating became explosive.

Finally, Hope pulled away, gasping for air as she looked at him. His eyes were dilated and dark. The misery that had lived in them a moment before was replaced by a hunger. A hunger they both needed sated.

With unhurried movements, she got to her feet, knowing they were about to close one door and open another. The moment was powerful, significant, and she had never felt closer to him. Their gazes held while Gabe reached forward and curled two fingers into the waistband of her jeans. With a growl he tugged her forward until she was back in the space between his legs, so close she would have felt his breath against her skin were it not for the inconvenient clothes she was wearing.

As if he could read her mind, Gabe reached for the button of her jeans and flicked it, letting out a groan when it opened with an echoing pop. Slowly, he slid the zipper down, then tugged it, so she came closer again—this time his breath heated the skin just above the pale blue silk of her panties, and Hope felt a burst of feminine pride when he muttered a curse.

She sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving to the wardrobe gods that she’d done laundry the day before. This underwear reveal could have gone very differently twenty-four hours ago.

“Take them off,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

Part of her, the part that was always desperate and aching for his touch, wanted to rip her clothes off and jump onto him for a hard and fast ride that matched the desperation coursing through her.

But the other part of her, the part that wanted so much more than that with him, was intent on savoring the moment. A moment that seemed all the more pivotal given how he’d just opened himself up to her. So she took her time sliding her pants down until they fell to her ankles. Toeing off her shoes, she kicked the last of her jeans off.

“Take off your shirt,” Gabe commanded next.

Once again, she obeyed. Then, without being asked, she unsnapped her bra and let it drop to the floor along with the rest of her clothes. She stood before him now, wearing nothing but a pale blue silk thong.

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