Again his jaw worked, nothing coming out until he said, "I would never have intentionally left you there. No more than I'd actually let Ricky stay your first night here. I would have realized my error soon enough. I will ask you to spend the night at your apartment."
"No." I headed for the house.
"If you think that will force my hand and make me stay--"
I laughed. "Make you stay? Seriously? The moment you want to leave, you will, and there'll be no way to get you back until you decide you want to come back. You'll ignore my calls, my messages, my texts. You'll tell me not to come into work. You'll freeze me out again, and I can't put up with that. I just can't."
"So why do you?"
I stopped. Just stopped. It was like when he laughed at the thought we were friends.
Why do I put up with him? Why did I keep banging my head against this wall, knocking myself senseless trying to get through to him, and then raging and crying because I'd hurt myself.
Why did I put up with it?
Because I loved him. Because I was such a damn fool.
My eyes filled with tears, and I think that was the worst. As humiliating as if I'd said the words out loud.
Gabriel saw those tears and recoiled. And that was the worst.
This was the man I kept tying myself up in knots over? The man I couldn't quit even when I had a solid, stable, amazing relationship with Ricky? Instead, I wanted the guy who would shut me out if I crossed invisible boundaries? Who'd walk away if I challenged him on it? Think me a fool if I stayed? Think me weak if I cried?
I could tell myself I'd made my choice with Ricky and this with Gabriel was just friendship, but that was bullshit. A few signs of kindness from Gabriel, signs of consideration and caring, and I was right back, like Ricky's hound, desperate for scraps of attention, some hope that maybe, just maybe...
Maybe what? Even if I got him, what exactly did I get? A man who'd walk away at the first sign of trouble. Who'd slam the door and mock me if I followed. Who'd withdraw if I showed any sign of actual emotion.
I stumbled toward the house. I heard him call, "Olivia," and heard the first thump of his footsteps and I raced up the steps, eager to get inside, just get inside and bolt the door and collapse behind it and--
I tripped going up the stairs. I tripped, and Gabriel was right there, his hand going to my shoulder. In trying to duck his grip, I fell sideways, my head bashing the wrought-iron patio fence, and it wasn't enough to knock me unconscious, just to make the world dip and fade and spin as I fell to...
Rock. I tumbled heels over head off the embankment, my head striking rock as I fell, and when I came to, someone had me, a face over mine, a voice calling my name, hands gripping me, the voice sharp with worry. When my eyes fluttered open, he backed off fast, stammering an apology, explaining that I'd fallen--as if I wouldn't realize that. Even with pain shooting through my head, I had to smile at the thought that he needed an excuse to be caught holding me.
Typical Gwynn.
I started as I thought the name. Or the part that was me did, because even though I consciously recognized Gwynn's fair hair and face and voice, I saw and heard Gabriel, in his gestures, in his apology, perhaps not stammered, but the intent the same--to be certain I understood that there was a valid reason I was waking in his arms.
Gwynn awkwardly shifted me onto the grass, his hand lingering under my head.
"Can you move, Mati?" he asked.
What if I pretend I cannot? Might I get a few more moments of your care?
My lips quirked at the thought, as I brushed it off. Other girls might try that ploy. I would not, as tempting as it was.
"Well, that will teach me to watch where I'm going," I said.
"It was my fault for talking," he said.
"Yes," I said, mock-serious. "You really shouldn't do that."
I smiled at him but couldn't suppress a wince as I did, and he said, "Hold still. You've cut your lip."
He reached into the picnic basket, brought out the wineskin, soaked the corner of a cloth, and reached to clean my lip. As he did, I watched him, so close and so intent on his task, and I thought, I could kiss him.
Kiss him and, yes, he might jump back like a cat with its tail on fire, but I had just struck my head and could not be held accountable for my actions. Of course, it might hurt, kissing with a split lip, but that was really the least of my concerns.
I'd seen signs lately, lingering looks, and then blushes when I caught him watching me, indications that a kiss might not be unwelcome. That I might win the prize I treasured above all others.