Page 115 of Angels & Whiskey

“It’s not good, Auttie,” Paul sighed.

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking around for Gabe.

“When Cochran died in his arms, he turned to whiskey to sleep to try to forget her because he had nightmares. When he decided to get close to you, the nightmares stopped and so did the drinking—until tonight. After you’d left, he grabbed the bottle of Jack from the liquor cabinet and went to his room.”

I nodded and walked toward Gabe’s bedroom—the room that we’d been sharing each night. I knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. I took a deep breath and tried turning the door knob. It opened and I stepped into the dark room. I could smell the stench of the whiskey and I wanted to cry again. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have left Gabe begging on the sidewalk. I should have been a grown woman and talked it out with him. Instead, I’d let the past control my future.

“Gabe?” I whispered, but there was no response.

I stepped closer to the bed. The moment my hand touched his warm skin, I realized how much I’d miss him if I let his past ruin our future. He saved me and I needed to save him.

After stripping my clothes, I crawled into the bed, moving as close as I could to Gabe without being on top of him.

He groaned. “Angel?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You left me,” he slurred.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

“I love you, angel.”

My eyes widened at his words. I didn’t know if he said he loved me because he was drunk or because he actually did love me, but one thing was certain …

I was in love with him too.