“Homes don’t always stay,” she said, sobering from the numbed bliss.
“No?” He set her boots aside, gathered her clothes, and dropped them in the laundry hamper. Too much of a Marine for a mess, she wouldn’t rest until they were all dealt with, and Gabriel knew her well.
“No, I grew up in foster care.” Saying it aloud carried no onus or specter for her. It simply was. “My mother was a drug addict. I was born addicted to crack.”
Gabriel returned to the bed and nudged her toward the top. Pulling the blankets back, he urged her under them. “Sachi…”
“Don’t. I won’t regret talking drunk. Some of these things, I don’t ever consider telling you because…I don’t know. It’s not me anymore. Those places, the homes. Foster parents. Siblings. John is steady. I’ve had John a long time, he’s—he’s my family.”
Not saying a word, Gabriel stripped, then slid into the bed next to her. He tugged out the gun from beneath the pillow—checked it, then slid it onto the nightstand next to his side of the bed. Probably better he had the gun tonight, anyway. When he wrapped his arms around her, she settled against his chest.
“I got bounced from home to home, sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for bad. The best part was when I enlisted. Because even if the military moved me, I belonged wherever I went.” Belonging had been important. “Until I didn’t. It went away.”
“Operation Phoenix?”
She’d told him, the whole of the op, how it went wrong—who they’d lost, and what it had cost them. Gabriel signed on to help the team to help her. He needed to know what he was getting into. “One mission. It all went to hell. They died, and my home was gone. I didn’t see John for months—and Brad was dead.”
With deliberate patience, Gabriel combed his fingers through her hair. The light stroke of his fingertips against her scalp combined with the unknotting of her hair soothed her.
“They took my home away. Discharged me, sent me off, and I didn’t know what to do or who to be. Then, apparently, Brad and the other Ghosts dragged me here.” The irony wasn’t lost on her. What would she have given to have pulled the mask off his face that day? To have seen him? To know? “And they didn’t say a word to any of us.” If Chrome hadn’t known, and she and Merc hadn’t—she was pretty sure none of the team knew.
“Did he tell you why?”
“Yes, and he kissed me.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, pressing his lips to her hair. “He’s alive, and it’s really fucking with you.”
“I should be happy.” Why wasn’t she? “I should be relieved.”
“Why should you be anything?” The question resonated with her.
“Because I love him.”Loved? Love?Love was right—she loved him before. She still did. “Gabriel, I’m not…”
“Shh,” he said, pressing his fingers to her lips. “It’s okay if you love him. He’s a really big part of you, and he’s been here…he’s been here the whole time. I knew that when I said I would stay.”
Fear slunk in under the liquor. “You’re not going now…if you go now, I go with you.”
“I don’t doubt it, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t lose me in Vegas, and you’re not losing me here.” The words reassured. “You, however, are going to drink some water and go to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll work out what we’re going to do.”
Shifting, she rolled over and straddled him, gazing into his eyes. “I’m sorry I hit you.” It had been Gabriel trying to stop her.
“I know better than to get between you and your bike.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I also know you have a mean left hook. I’ll take the elbow anytime.”
Laughter bubbled up inside of her, and she cradled his face in her hands. “You’re a lunatic.”
“Only for you.” He sat forward, brushing his nose to hers. “I have your back. It’s going to suck, and I have no idea what fresh surprise is waiting for us tomorrow, but you are not alone. Not this time, and nobody’s taking anything away from you. Clear?”
The stern tone, the crisp orders, and the utter confidence steadied her wavering soul. “Crystal.”
“Good.” Then he kissed her. When his tongue sought entrance, she let him in and lost herself in his touch.
One week later
Runningwith Copper was a lot like running a marathon. She didn’t quit, not even when sweat slicked her skin and her hair was sopping. It didn’t matter how hot—or cold, for that matter— or if the sun was shining or if it was raining. Gabriel joked once he’d been in good shape when he met her. Staying with her, however, had increased his fitness. She ran ten miles every day she wasn’t on a mission, even if she was hungover.
At the top of their loop, she slowed, and he dropped his pace to match hers. They matched, though not intentionally, in t-shirts, sweatpants, and running shoes. He preferred it when she wore shorts, she had a fantastic set of legs. When she slowed further, walking instead of running, he frowned. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Brad this week?” Since the day the bomb dropped, she hadn’t mentioned the subject. She focused on training, running, avoiding any of the team, and having sex—lots of sex. Gabriel didn’t complain about any of it, except he’d waited her out. Waited for her to bring the man up again. From the day she’d confessed her initial loss, he’d been very aware of her lingering love.