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Chapter Twenty-Six

Storm

I should have been quicker to pull my hand away from Gabriel’s. When I heard his brother excuse himself to use the restroom, I should have moved my hand. I should have. But I didn’t. Neither did Gabriel. Not that I’ll put that on him. He’s too stressed to think. It’s my fault, and I will take full responsibility for it.

“You’re gay?” his brother hisses, stopping just behind us and glaring down at our hands as if they’re performing witchcraft.

Since this is the first time that word has been said at the dinner table, I’m assuming they got Gabriel’s point. That he was only introducing me as his date because he was told to bring one—and nothing more. But now that we’re caught red-handed, well, there isn’t much else we can do about it.

Gabriel pulls his hand away as if I’ve burned him, and I look up at his brother while Gabriel curls in on himself. No one introduced themselves to me, but I have eyes. His parents and brothers all have similar features. Enough to know they’re related.

“How dare you ruin our parents’ dinner like this?” his brother scoffs at me. I have no idea which brother he is. He isn’t the one who said he was starting his own practice, but one who looks younger.

I wait for Gabriel to say something. Everyone around the table is staring at us, wondering what is going on to cause his brother to say what he just said.

“You’ve done a lot of stupid things in your life, Gabriel, but this is by far the w—”

“I would not finish that word if I were you,” I say through gritted teeth, hands balling into fists.

He raises a brow, shock all over his face. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He scoffs again. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that?”

“Who the hell do you think you are talking to him like that?” I respond, gesturing toward Gabriel.

How dare these people? Gabe is such a kind person, and here they are treating him like he’s a damn felon. I’d fully intended on being on my best behavior here. Even though the point in coming was for Gabriel to get back at his parents, I was not going to make this night worse for him. I was going to keep my mouth shut and just be here for him. But if they’re going to treat him like this? There is no way in hell I’m going to keep my mouth shut. My mother did not raise me to take shit or let people be bullied—even if it is his family.

“He’s my brother. I can talk to him however I like.”

“Some brother you are,” I comment, getting to my feet and looking him right in the face. We’re about the same height, but he looks like he has a stick shoved up his ass. “If you were my brother, I’d be ashamed.”

“The only person who should be ashamed is Gabriel,” he seethes.

I shake my head, smiling but not because this is funny. It’s unbelievable how awful these people are. How do people survive like this?

“Come on,” I say, holding my hand out to Gabriel. He stares into his lap, not moving. But if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to punch someone. We’ve been here nearly ten minutes and there’s already an argument breaking out? It’s a good thing we’re in a private room.

“Gabriel, if you get up from this table and spoil this dinner more than you already have, consider yourself disowned,” his mother says flippantly, reaching for her wine.

I bark out a laugh. “Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I think it’s a relief.”

She gasps, hand going to her chest to clutch the pearls that are hanging from her neck. How fucking cliche. His father is glaring, face turning a strange shade of purple.

I grab Gabriel’s hand, breathing out a sigh of relief when he links his fingers with mine and holds on for dear life. Part of me thought he was going to stay, kiss their asses and deal with this bullshit because he’s too scared to stick up for himself. With a little tug, he gets to his feet.

“How dare you,” his mother hisses.

“You should leave,” his father says, getting to his feet.

“Oh, I plan on it.” I turn to face his brother, who is still standing there, shocked. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

His jaw drops, but he doesn’t move.

“Well, I’ve never in all my life!” His mother mutters. “The vulgarity.”

I move around Gabriel’s brother, whichever douchebag one he is, because he looks equally asshole-ish as the others. Their wives all look like they get their assholes bleached and fuck the pool boy. Fuck these people.

I make my way through the maze of tables, ignoring stares and whispers, gripping Gabe’s hand tighter so I don’t lose him. Not sure what all these people are talking about. We didn’t make that much of a scene, so they can’t be talking about that. Are they all upset that two guys are holding hands? Is this seriously that much of a problem? I’m tempted to stop in the middle of the restaurant and make out with Gabriel for all to see—including his parents. If I knew it wouldn’t traumatize him, I would do it. But I won’t do that to him because it’ll only upset him more. He’s not in a state to handle something like that. That’s not who he is.

We finally make our way outside and to his car, where I dig the key out of his pocket and help him into the passenger seat, then get into the driver’s side. I start the car and adjust the seat and mirrors, but I don’t pull off. I take a moment to check on Gabe.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He’s staring at his feet, hands clasped together. He doesn’t respond. Though he looks calm, I know he’s not. I feel the anxiety flowing from him.

I shift sideways and gently take his face between my hands, making him look at me. He seems to react well when I do this.

“Are you okay?” I ask again, this time more firmly. Deeper. The way he said he needed me to do earlier.

He gives the smallest shake of his head.

“I’m going to get you home.”

There’s no response and his eyes go glossy. I brush my thumb along his cheek before dropping my hands and taking off. I set up the GPS on my phone before turning out of the parking lot.

The drive is quick, not much traffic at this time, and soon enough, we’re pulling into the driveway. I help Gabriel inside the house, to my room, and into bed. Mostly because I don’t know how he feels about me going into his room, and I don’t care if he’s in mine.

I get him undressed down to his briefs and tuck him in. He’s like a moldable mannequin, allowing me to move him however I need to get things done. And when he’s all comfortable in bed, I get myself undressed and climb in after him, pulling him to me. His body is warm, but he’s shivering and I can’t make sense of that. I glance at the clock. I have two hours before I have to leave for the airport, and I’m thankful I chose a late night flight.

I run my hand over his hair, kiss his forehead, and do everything I can think of to comfort him and make him feel better. This isn’t my thing and I’m not sure I’m doing it right, but I’m trying like hell. He isn’t freaking out or pushing me away, so I think that’s a good sign.

As time goes by, I grow more and more worried, not sure I can leave him like this. What if he’s suicidal or something? I don’t know him well enough to know how he gets, to know his mental state, but I have witnessed some serious mood swings, panic attacks, and breakdowns. Depression could be lingering in there somewhere. How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ll have to cancel my flight. Or change it. I still have time to get to the wedding if I get one first thing in the morning. If not, Dom will have to understand. If Gabriel tried hurting himself because I left… I can’t live with that. I just can’t.

The room is dark, quiet, nothing but our soft breathing and my hand brushing through his hair.

“Why are they so cruel?” he whispers.

“I wish I had an answer for you.”

“I just… want to be good enough.”

“You are good enough,” I say. “You are .”

“No, I’m not.”

This is one of those things that I can’t argue. If I go back and forth, he’s just going to buckle down and argue more. He believes he isn’t good enough, and that’s his family’s fault. I can’t change his mind just by telling him that he is when he’s had years and years of it being drilled into his head that he isn’t. This won’t be fixed overnight. This is something he’s going to have to work hard at.

I turn his head to face me, running my finger along his jaw.

“Just because they don’t think you’re good enough, doesn’t mean you aren’t, Gabriel.”

He searches my eyes before saying, “I used to think you were a jerk. That you didn’t care about anything and had no respect, but I was wrong.”

I smile. “Being wrong is okay this time.”

He smiles back, biting on his bottom lip. “What are we doing?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” I answer.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he says, eyes falling closed.

“Did you ever?” He frowns, his eyes fluttering back open. “I’m not trying to be rude, Gabriel, but it seems your whole life has been planned and forced by your parents. Have you ever taken the time to think about what you want?”

“Fleetingly.”

Fleetingly? Who the hell says that?

“I have an idea,” I say. When he doesn’t say anything, I keep going. “Come with me this weekend.”

“No, I can’t.” His answer is way too quick.

“Why not?”

“Because I have work, and the house is here, and—”

“Well, the house is going to be fine without you. No offense, but houses can be alone for some time. And work? Do not tell me you don’t have sick time, because I know you’re lying.”

“But I’m not sick.”

I grin. “Exactly.”

He frowns deeper.

“Come on, Gabriel. Live a little. It’ll be fun. Play hooky from work, come away for the weekend with me. My friends would love to have you. It’ll be great.”

I don’t tell him I’d already asked them if I could bring someone, because I had planned on asking him sooner. Each time I thought about it, I lost the confidence to do so, knowing he was going to shoot me down. And I didn’t want to freak him out by moving too fast.

“I don’t know…”

“You need to think about what you wanna do with your life, Gabriel. It’s a big decision. If you want to fix things with your family, do what they want you to do, cool. It’s your choice. Do I think you should do that? Absolutely not. But either way, you need to figure this out. It’s a lot to process and after tonight, jumping back into your normal routine isn’t going to help you. You have to stop hiding from your problems.”

He thinks about it for a moment and says, “Okay.”

“Okay as in…”

“I’ll go.”

“You’ll go?” I say way too excitedly.

“Why not?”

“Hell yes, Gabe!” I squeeze his face and give him a big smacking kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go, you’ve gotta pack.”

He gets out of bed. “I need a plane ticket.”

“I’ll handle that. You go get yourself packed—and hurry up. We have to leave in twenty minutes.”

While he’s packing, I look up tickets on my flight, and don’t you know it? The seat beside mine is open. Now we’ll both get to enjoy flying first class together.

I order an Uber and check on Gabriel, who, surprisingly, is coming out of his room with a suitcase.

“I’m impressed,” I say.

He gives me a small smile. “Not in the mood to care about anything right now.”

“Fair.” I grab my suitcase from the closet. I’d packed everything yesterday.

With one more look through the house to make sure everything is locked and no appliances are on, we head outside to wait for the car. We don’t hit any traffic on the way to the airport. Before I know it, we’re boarding the plane and getting comfortable in our seats.

For nearly two months, I’ve spent every night under the same roof as Gabriel, so why do I have butterflies in my stomach over this upcoming weekend?