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Chapter Forty-Six

Storm

I should have gone back to Boston. That was my plan. I was going to stay in a hotel or air BNB until I found an apartment because I wanted it to be permanent. Boston is my home. I left my mother to go there. That’s the place that I planned my life in. Yet, here I am, at Sea-Tac.

I follow the crowd of people getting off the plane and heading to the exit, where I make my way to the pickup area and request a ride. My brain is telling me I’m an idiot. That I shouldn’t be here, that it’s only going to end in me being hurt like I dealt with so many times as a child. Every fear, every little thing that caused me to bolt and make porn to get rich is showing its ugly face again.

First of all, what if Dominic is wrong? What if Gabriel wants nothing to do with me? What if he’s glad I’m out of his house and doesn’t want me back at all?

Second, what if all of that is false, and he does want to be together, but the porn thing has got to go? I’ll be poor. I’ll have no money, and I’ll go back to stressing about food and how I’ll survive. I don’t want that. I can’t live with that kind of stress.

Third, this does work out. Everything is perfect. But then he decides he’s had enough, and he leaves me. How the hell will I handle that?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m fully aware I have some attachment issues due to my life. But I’ve never cared until now. It’s never affected me until now. People have come and gone and I’ve let them. Things have come and gone, and I got new ones.

Yes, I am hurting because of my mother and I need to handle that, but my mother has been gone for quite some time now. Which means all the pain I’m feeling has to do with missing Gabriel, my adorable little nerd. I miss the fuck out of him, I really do. And I’m not sure how the hell that happened, but it did.

I freaked out when he started asking questions about us because deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to just walk away. His question made me realize it, and I fucking panicked.

After spending some time with Dominic and Mikah on Kauai, Dominic finally talked me into coming back to tell Gabriel how I feel. I’ve been on him about communicating with me and I never gave him the same respect.

Fuck, I went to hang out with my friends to forget about Gabriel and the shit show that is my life, and all they did was make me face it. And now here I am, pulling up in front of Gabriel’s house at two am.

The first thing I notice is that his car isn’t in the driveway, which is fucking weird because his car is always here. Did he pick up an overnight shift at work? I doubt it. He needs his sleep and told me he’d never work those shifts. But if he’s worried about money… maybe he did?

Or what if… no. He couldn’t have sold the house already, right? I wouldn’t put it past him to sell it. He hates this house. Maybe me leaving made him realize just how much he wanted to get away from it? But selling it and getting everything out in such a short amount of time doesn’t seem right.

I get out of the car, thank the driver, and pull the key from my pocket as I move up the front steps, my luggage trailing behind me. I don’t know why I took the key when I left, but I’m glad I did. I guess maybe I knew I would need it.

When the door swings inward, I’m grateful that the furniture is still here—his furniture. Though, there is a backpack beside the door. It’s not like Gabriel to leave things around. I set my bags aside and close and lock the door. Flipping the light switch on, I look around. Everything seems to be here. Nothing outside of the backpack is out of place.

I pop into the kitchen, and don’t see anything missing. That’s good. Maybe he did pick up an overnight shift. I can’t imagine him going out… though, maybe he’s with Marta? Maybe she had something going on and he decided to do something for once? I don’t like the thought of it, of him being out with a bunch of people, but not because I’m jealous. It’s because I can’t imagine him having fun and I don’t like him upset… If he’s with a bunch of people at a party, he’s probably freaking out. I should let him know I’m here. I don’t want him to panic if he comes home and finds me. But I also don’t want to text or call and ruin whatever fun he’s having… if he’s having fun.

So, I dig through the kitchen drawer and pull out the pad and pen, write a quick note to tell him I’m here, then I fold it in half stick it into the crack of the first post and the railing of the stairs, this way when he walks up them to go to his room, he’ll see it. It’s sticking out toward the stairs, so there is no way he’ll miss it.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I turn toward my room, but then look at his. Maybe he’s in there? Maybe he got rid of his car or it’s in the shop? Maybe he is here…

I go that way, carefully opening his door. Disappointment settles in my gut when I see his bed empty and—not made. Fuck, that’s not good. If I hadn’t seen the bathroom door wide open, I’d think he was in there because he always makes his bed, but… I guess maybe he’s struggling as much as I am. That shouldn’t give me some relief, but it does. I hate that I hurt him by leaving, but I’m here now and I want to make things better. Him being upset means he isn’t over this. That’s good. I can fix this now.

I get undressed down to my boxer briefs and I climb into his bed. Hopefully when he gets home, he’ll be happy to see me here waiting for him.

I don’t go on the side I normally sleep on, I take up his side. His scent envelopes me and pulls me into a deep sleep.