Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Storm

The sound of Gabriel’s car pulling into the driveway has me looking up from my book. It’s a beautiful day, and I wanted to spend time outside, but realized there was no outside furniture. Which made it clear that Gabe spends all his free time in the house, locked away from… Well, everything. So I bought some furniture and had it delivered immediately. Cost a pretty penny, but whatever. I’ve got enough money.

I have to say, sitting here on the porch like an old man, reading a book, isn’t as boring as I thought it may be. I can’t remember the last time I read a book. High school, maybe? But while I was browsing furniture online to be sent here, I also had some food sent, and was trying to think of things to do. For whatever reason, I went with a book.

When I was in Boston, my free time was spent partying or recovering from partying. I was hardly home at all. I was outside a lot, especially during the summer when we’d go to the beach or concerts around the city.

“Hey, Gabe,” I say with a smile, closing my book and putting it on my lap.

“Gabriel,” he corrects, and I just keep smiling. “You lost your place.”

“What?”

He gestures to the book. “You don’t have a bookmark.”

“Oh, right.” I pick up the book and shrug. “I should get one of those.”

“I have some. I don’t mind you using one.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He nods, then moves to the door, but something feels off. I get up and follow after him.

“I hope the swing is okay?”

“Sure, it looks nice.”

“Good, because I bought other stuff too.” He stops just inside the door, and I can picture the concerned look on his face before I see it. “Don’t worry,” I continue, moving in front of him so he can see me. “It’s nothing for inside the house, and I didn’t move or touch any of your stuff. It’s some furniture for the backyard—oh, and a grill.”

“A grill?” he blurts.

“Hell yeah, a grill. You don’t like grilling?”

“I don’t like the idea of a propane tank exploding in my vicinity.”

I start laughing, but quickly stop myself because he isn’t joking. He’s never joking.

“That is unlikely,” I say.

“But not impossible.”

“Well, no, but…” I clear my throat, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Do you want me to bring it back? I will. It’s your house and if you’re not okay with it…”

He blinks a few times, just staring at me. I have no idea what he’s going to say, but eventually his shoulders sag and he says, “You can keep it.”

You’d think he was talking about a pet I found on the side of the road with the way the words come out. Like the grill may carry rabies or pee on his carpet, but he’ll give it a chance.

“You wanna come outside and see it?”

His hand tightens on his messenger bag and he glances upstairs before looking back to me.

“Let me put my stuff away first.”

I grin, moving out of the way so he can go up the stairs and do his thing. Once he’s at the top, I call out, “I’ll wait right here!”

I get no response. I wasn’t sure how he would react to all this, but he’s taking it better than I expected. It’s been nearly three weeks since I’ve been here, and in that time, I’ve learned a lot about him. I haven’t changed my ways entirely, but I’m trying to respect him the best I can. It’s not all that difficult either. Seems this type of life isn’t so bad.

Though, I was invited to a destination wedding that’s coming up soon, and there is no doubt there will be some serious partying there. There aren’t many people I consider friends, but Dominic is one. I never thought I’d see him settle down, not after the life he lived. Him and I have hooked up… both before and after he was with his fiancé. It wasn’t a cheating thing, it was a threesome and it was hot as fuck. They’re both adult content creators too and have somehow made a relationship work. Their platforms are flourishing. Apparently people love watching couples do their thing. I never would have thought that, but people surprise you sometimes.

Gabe comes downstairs a short time later, changed out of his “work” clothes and into day-to-day clothes, which consists of khakis and a t-shirt. The guy looks hot in anything. I wonder if he knows that?

We head out the front door and around the back, where I proudly show off everything I bought.

“Oh my god…” he mutters, taking in everything that’s back here. I can’t tell if he’s happy or pissed. Nothing about his face tells me how he’s feeling.

“Well, what do you think?” I move deeper into the yard. There is a tall fence around the perimeter, and a large tree in the back right corner and a few bushes on the opposite side behind the shed. “If we’re going to grill out here, we need a place to sit and eat.” I gesture to the outdoor dining table and cushioned-chair set. It’s dark brown and cream—safe colors—with an umbrella that fits through the table. “But also, if we want to just hang out, we need chairs that are a little more comfortable.” I move to the lounge chairs that are set up around the fire pit—also a new purchase. “And this is top of the line. Super safe,” I say about the fire pit because I thought that would be the issue, not the stupid propane tank.

Gabe takes his time looking over everything, taking every little thing in. After five whole minutes, he still doesn’t say anything and I’m officially scared for my life.

“Talk to me, Gabe, ‘cause I’m freaking out a little. Are you mad or what?”

“This looks…” I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me he hates it and that I better take it all back. I will, if he wants me to. It’s his house. Though, I really hope he doesn’t because I love having a backyard that I can lounge around in. “Really good.” He blows out a breath, smiling. Holy shit, he’s smiling.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. This is… wow, Storm. This is really great.” He moves to the lounge chair, pointing to it. “May I?”

“Of course, yes! Please do.” I hurry over to it, shifting it a little so it doesn’t wobble in the grass.

He sits, leaning back and closing his eyes as he smiles up at the sky. It’s a true smile. A content one. He looks joyful and relaxed. So I get comfortable on the one beside him, and we just sit together in silence until it gets dark.

“Thank you for getting all of that. I hope you know when you leave, you can take it with you.”

“You trying to kick me out already?” I question, and he chuckles. He actually chuckles.

“No. Surprisingly, I’m not.”

Gabe locks the door once we’re inside and we go to the kitchen.

“Do you need help with dinner?” I ask.

Frowning, he says, “We’re not quite there yet,” and it’s my turn to laugh.

“Well, we’ll have to be there within the next few days because I bought meat to grill, and I don’t want it going to waste.”

“I think I can handle that.” He nods firmly. “How about Friday?”

Unlike breakfast, dinner is not the same every day of the week.

“Friday is good.” I grab the bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge and pour myself a glass.

We each have our own shelf in the fridge, and anything that is on that shelf isn’t to be touched by the other person. Then we have a shared shelf that we can both use. On it are condiments, butter, eggs, stuff like that. I thought splitting all this up would be too much work, and I suggested I’d pay for all the food, but he wouldn’t agree. Said he’d handle splitting the cost and just tell me how much I owe. That’s simple enough for me, so I agreed.

“Are you ready to tell me what you do for work yet?” he asks, causing me to choke on my juice. I put the glass down and grab a paper towel to wipe my mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” I clear my throat, trying to ignore the burning of the cranberry juice going down wrong. I toss the dirty paper towel into the trash and say, “I told you what I do for work.”

“Only partly.”

“Look, I appreciate you wanting to know shit about me, since we live together and all, but honestly, I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

He eyes me carefully before pouring a bit of oil into the skillet.

“That worries me.”

“I think what I do will worry you more,” I comment, grabbing my glass of juice.

“Well, now that just scares me.”

I huff out a laugh. “It’s nothing illegal, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Have you met me? All I do is worry.”

Yeah, I guess he’s right.

“I’ll tell you one day, but not today. Is that fair?”

“I suppose. I don’t like it but…” He shrugs.

I go to the kitchen table and browse social media as he cooks. Though he doesn’t let me help him, I like sitting here and watching him work. He’s so precise about things, so particular. And the food is always delicious. Maybe if I watch him enough, I’ll learn something and when I leave, I’ll be able to cook my own food instead of ordering all the time.

Moving around flawlessly, he pulls things from cabinets, chops food, tosses this, mixes that, adds all sorts of seasoning. How does he know what to add to what?

He’s got three things going on at once. Something in the oven, while stuff is cooking in a skillet and something else is boiling in a pan. How is nothing burning? It’s wild that he can just… do that and not get all crazy and overwhelmed about it. Gabe gets upset over the simplest things, yet he can handle cooking like this?

“Can I ask you something?” I say after a long moment of watching him.

“Sure,” he answers as he mixes the boiling pot.

“How do you not get overwhelmed by doing ten things at once in the kitchen, but the toilet seat being left up has you losing your mind?”

I’m not sure we’re quite at the place where I should make a joke like that, but I take the risk. If I push him a little, he may be okay with it.

He doesn’t turn to look at me when he answers, just keeps his focus on what he’s doing.

“Honestly? I’m not really sure. I guess… certain tasks keep my mind busy. I can do them because I can organize everything in my brain. Task after task, I know what needs to be done, so I do it. If things were out of place in the kitchen, it wouldn’t go so well, but since that isn’t the case, it’s easy for me. As for the toilet seat? Have you ever fallen in and had that water touch your ass?” He looks over his shoulder, giving me a look that I can only laugh at. And not just a little laugh, but hysterical. Tears pour from my eyes and my stomach hurts.

“I mean… maybe when I was a kid?”

I pull the hem of my shirt up to wipe my eyes.

“Well, count yourself lucky.” He doesn’t seem angry over my outburst, but isn’t laughing either.

“I guess I can understand why that would bother you then. It’s like trauma. I know about that.”

“Do you?” he questions, more curious than disbelieving.

“I do.”

“Never would have guessed.”

“Why not?”

“You’re too carefree. Doesn’t seem like you care about anything,” he comments before turning the burner off for the boiling pot.

His words hit me way too deep. It’s too personal. And though it’s not his fault, it makes me a little sick.

“I care about a lot of things, just show it differently than you.” I get up from my chair, needing to leave the room. “I’m going to shower before dinner.”

“It’ll be ready in fifteen!” he calls after me, oblivious to how not carefree I am right now.