"I can't stay here," I said.
"I'm sure Rose--"
"Cainsville, I mean. I can't stay."
Silence. I looked over, expecting him to argue, to tell me I was being foolish.
"I would agree," he said. "For now."
"Until we figure this out, it's like living in enemy territory. Maybe that's being dramatic--"
"It's not. That's why I suggested you quit at the diner. You are accepting their protection and their hospitality, which puts you in their debt now that you realize it."
"I'll take a few days off at the diner. And away from here. I'll grab a hotel room while I sort this out."
"You can, if you insist, but I have a better idea."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
I stood at the wall-sized window in Gabriel's fifty-fifth-floor condo and fought the urge to press my nose against the glass. The night view was amazing. I swore I could see the entire city, lit up.
Gabriel poured drinks behind me. Two, judging by the tinkle of glasses. I suspected he might need one, and not because he could have died in a fiery crash tonight. That was, I think, easier than bringing me up here. But he'd survived both. So far.
He had suggested I stay at his place. He needed someone to check him in the night, and he'd already imposed on Rose with my fever last night. If I was willing to help him with that, he'd be happy to share his apartment for a few days.
I'm sure "happy" wasn't quite the right word, but even as my gut had seized up, everything in me saying, "Hell, no, I won't go through that again," I'd seen in his expression that he was genuinely offering. More than that, he wanted me there. Which didn't mean that I thought I'd actually make it through the door before he changed his mind. But as he'd waited for my answer, I realized it didn't matter if he went through with it or not. This was about him, not me. I couldn't make it about me. He wanted it. He was trying. That was enough.
So I'd agreed. I'd packed a bag while he went over to ask Rose if she'd keep TC for a few days. Gabriel drove my car so I could call Ricky, on the chance he'd hear about the crash and the shooting before I talked to him tomorrow. Then we'd arrived at Gabriel's condo, came up the elevator, through the door, and . . . I was here. Looking at this amazing view while Gabriel fixed me a drink.
When he went quiet behind me, that sinking feeling started again. He was having second thoughts. Trying to think of a way to get me out, as politely as possible. I took a deep breath and lifted my gaze. I could see his reflection in the glass. He was just standing there, holding the glasses, watching me.
"Earlier," he said as I turned. "At the crash site. You did know I was awake. That I had the gun."
"Hmm?"
I took my drink from him. Scotch. Hard stuff, but I'd earned it.
"When you agreed to crawl back into the car. You knew I'd get the jump on her."
It wasn't a statement but a question, even if he didn't phrase it that way.
"Mmm, not exactly. But I had a plan."
A lousy plan. One that almost certainly wouldn't have worked in my favor. But I didn't say that because I could tell it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
"Good," he said on a breath of relief, before taking a sip of his whiskey. Then he lowered the glass and caught my gaze. "Don't put yourself at risk for anyone, Olivia. Ever. It isn't worth it."
That's what he said, and while he meant it, what he was really saying was, "Don't put yourself at risk for me." I remembered when we'd faced Chandler's goons, and Gabriel had wanted me to get to safety. Don't stay for me, he'd said. I wouldn't do it for you.
I'd believed him. And I hadn't cared. Whether or not he'd have stayed, he'd put himself at risk for me many times since. Yet he didn't want me doing it for him.
I'd said to myself once that Gabriel preferred a life where he felt as little responsibility for others as possible. That was true. But even more true is the fact that he preferred a life where others felt no responsibility for him.
"Quid pro quo," Patrick had said when I first met him. You scratch my back and I scratch yours. Gabriel might have inherited that sense of fairness, of balance, but it went further with him. You stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you. Do nothing for me, and I'll do nothing for you. A clean slate was easier to balance than any accumulation of debts.
How do you have a personal relationship with someone who thinks that way? You just do. You accept it, and you understand it, and you don't take offense, because none is intended. You read actions and ignore words.
Gabriel said he wouldn't have stayed for me. But he did, and he didn't just stay, he came running whenever I needed him. Same as I'd do for him, and as long as we both pretended otherwise, he could accept that.