Gabe
I follow McKenna into her third-floor condominium in North Beach that has a perfect view of Telegraph Hill, only blocks away from Washington Square. By what I can see, her condo seems small, less than nine hundred square feet for sure. But the bank of windows against the far wall offers a good view of the Financial District in the distance and makes the room more spacious. The furnishings are modern, with a white cotton couch and glass coffee table in the cozy living room. From my spot at the door, I can see there’s a galley kitchen with white cabinets and white countertops and black appliances just before the beginning of a hallway that leads to what I assume is a bedroom and a bathroom.
“What do you think?” she asks, shutting the door.
“Do you own this condo?” I ask.
“I do,” she says with a smile before kicking off her shoes. “I know it’s nothing much, but it’s mine, and it’s perfect.”
Since we’re only here to pick up a bag for her, I keep my shoes on, waiting at the door. “I actually couldn’t agree with you more about it being perfect.”
Her smile begins to fade, eyes searching mine. “Okay, what is with that look?”
“What look?”
She points to my face. “That look on your face right now. You’re all smiley and happy . . . and it’s weird.”
I snort and lean against her closed front door, folding my arms. “Is there something wrong with my being happy?”
“Considering we’re talking about my house, yes,” she says without pause.
I chuckle at her and shake my head, taking her hand and pulling her close. “Beyond that you make me happy . . . and smiley”—I say the latter with a wink—“I’m incredibly proud of you.”
Her brows raise. “Proud of me?”
I wrap an arm around her back, bringing her tighter against me. Yet somehow even now, I’m not close enough. “Yes, McKenna, I’m immensely proud of you. To know what you’ve come from, and to know that you’re also supporting your brother, and yet you have all of this.” I wave out to her condo. “It makes me so damn proud to stand beside you.”
Emotion rises in her eyes and warms her smile. “Well, thanks, but to be honest it’s not all my doing. When Gran passed she didn’t have too much in her bank account, but in her will she wanted her house sold. At the time, I didn’t really know why she did that. But in the years following her death, it all made sense.”
“She knew the type of man your brother was,” I guess.
McKenna nods in agreement, running her hands up over my shoulders and lacing her fingers behind my neck. “I’m guessing so. I think she wanted me to sell the house so that I’d have my own money, separate from his. Of course, I used that money to put a down payment on this place, which left me with a mortgage that I could afford. And it meant that I always had a place that wasn’t anywhere near Evan’s mess.”
It hadn’t dawned on me before but now I’m understanding. “Is that why he doesn’t live with you?”
A sweetness fills her eyes, her voice softens. “Gran always told me that everyone should have a home that feels safe and that feels like it belongs to them. So, I made this place mine, and when Evan needed help, I gave what I could, which as you saw doesn’t put him in the nicest place. But if he wants to fix his situation, he can.”
I stare at her, overwhelmed by her, my heart beginning to race.
She laughs. “What is that look now?”
“It’s you,” I say a little gruffly, taking her chin in my hand, holding her stare so she hears me. “You’re so good, McKenna. You come from very little, yet it’s like you have all that you need. You could drown in anger, but you don’t. It’s like you understand people in ways that I never could. Your love is something special. Always remind yourself of that.”
I see the way my words ripple emotion across her in the seconds before I press my lips against hers, and kiss her good and properly, without the heat I usually flood into her. Only when I feel her backing away do I finish. “Your heart is so big and warm, and that’s so damn beautiful.”
She gives me a smile that for some reason affects me more than any other smile before. It speaks of something different between us. I gesture toward the hallway. “Go grab a bag, and let’s get back to my place. You need to rest.”
“I’m not the only one,” she says, cupping my face.
She stands on her tiptoes and gives me a quick kiss again before she hurries toward her bedroom. I watch her disappear then I hear her opening drawers, clearly packing up clothes.
In the moment alone, I look around her condo again, something that belongs totally to her. I wonder if I’ll see things that surprise me, but everything is just like the McKenna I know. Clean and organized, warm and cozy. There’s much emotion running beneath the surface, knowing all she’s been through. I liked her before I knew all about her life. Now there’s a deep and hot possessive edge to the way I feel about her. I want to support her, letting her find her way, and I also want to stand in front of her, removing any threat that dares to come close.
To go through so much and not be jaded is a remarkable thing.
I’m torn from my thoughts when I see her exiting her bedroom, black bag in hand. There’s so much strength in her, and warmth, and loyalty; I’ve never met anyone like her. But it’s when she closes in on me that I see something that she pushes aside very easily, painful emotions. “Please don’t do that,” I say gently, taking the bag from her and dropping it on the floor next to me.
“Do what?” she asks, blinking up at me.