Page 40 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter thirty-eight

Tess

M y feelings are too transparent. I can’t hide from Gabe like I can from everyone else so like the coward that I am, I run to the bathroom to hide from that piercing, knowing gaze.

However, it’s hard to hide in a bathroom when the door’s hanging by one hinge. I manage to get it closed enough to give me the illusion of privacy and sit on the closed toilet seat, folding myself in half to lean over my knees and hang my head to calm my racing thoughts.

Gabe thinks he wants to know what’s wrong, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to know that my mother sent horrible men after me to collect the money she owes.

That this isn’t an uncommon occurrence. That I run from this scenario over and over and over.

That I’ll never be rid of her until she draws her last breath.

That I still hold out hope in the deep recesses of the little girl that still lives within me, that someday my mom will get clean, and she’ll be the mother I always wanted but never had. That she’ll live the rest of her days making up for the hell that’s been my entire life.

I hear Gabe moving through the apartment, checking the front door, then the soft padding of his feet as he turns off lights.

For a small moment I let myself wonder what it would be like if this were an every night occurrence. Us getting ready for bed together. Gabe taking one last walk through the house to make sure we’re safe.

It wouldn’t be in a shitty apartment in a shitty part of town, that’s for sure. Because Gabe doesn’t live in shitty apartments. He doesn’t fall for tormented women with so much baggage you’d need an entire train to haul it around.

I sit up and wipe my leaking eyes as a wave of exhaustion sweeps over me.

It’s more than being tired from a stay in the hospital. It’s years and years of constantly being on alert, of avoiding human interaction for fear someone will use that new friend, that boyfriend, that coworker, to get to me.

“Tess?”

It’s a testament to my exhaustion that I didn’t even hear Gabe enter the bathroom.

He’s standing in front of me, those beautiful blue eyes so full of concern that it hurts my heart.

I don’t want him to worry. I don’t deserve his concern.

I don’t need his sympathy. I’ll pick myself up and move on like I always do.

It might take a little longer with my aching head and this stupid wrist, but I’ll get there.

He holds his hand out to me. “Let’s go to bed, Spitfire. No more questions. No more talking. Just you and me sleeping. I think we both need a good night’s sleep.”

I stare at that hand, wanting so badly to let it lead me to safety. Except no where’s safe. Not for me.

I sway as exhaustion consumes me.

One night.

One night with Gabe’s strong arms wrapped around me. One night of feeling safe. And then I’ll let him go.

After one night.

I wake alone to sunshine pouring in my window.

I vaguely recall curling into Gabe’s warm body after he tucked me into bed again, his body wrapped around mine, giving me the illusion of safety. For the rest of the night I let myself believe that I’m safe. It’s a heady feeling, safety. And something I can’t let myself get used to.

His side of the bed is cold, but I hear the low rumble of his voice somewhere in the apartment. There is no answering voice so I’m guessing he’s on the phone. As his VA— former VA—I’m aware that I’m keeping him from his work. I also know I need to let him go. I had my one night.

It’s time.

I slide out of bed and pad toward the bathroom, peeking into my office to find that he’s set up his laptop at my desk.

He stands at the window, his back to me, cellphone pressed to his ear.

He’s wearing gray joggers slung low on slim hips and a faded blue t-shirt that stretches across wide shoulders.

He runs a hand through his hair as he listens to whoever’s on the other end of the phone.

Before he notices me ogling him, I slide past and enter the bathroom, propping the broken door closed. My landlord’s going to throw a fit and I’ll have to pay for that when I leave. Just another unexpected expense I can’t afford now that I’m unemployed.

Unemployed .

The word cuts deep. I haven’t been unemployed since I was fourteen. How will I find a work from home job that pays enough to live on?

How will I survive?

One day at a time. That’s all I can do. That’s all I’ve ever done.

After my shower I pull leggings and another t-shirt on, the only clothes I can manage one-handed that won’t irritate my bruises.

I eye the tube of toothpaste, my need for fresh breath overriding the gag reflex.

Even then I only take the tiniest dab and mostly brush with water very quickly before I’m spitting it all out.

My heart starts hammering but I’m out of the bathroom and away from the stupid white paste before I have the chance to fall into another full-on panic attack.

There. See? I can do this. Baby steps.

Gabe’s still on the phone, sitting at his computer as he talks, his back to the door.

Five days stuck in the hospital and yesterday holed up in this apartment has me feeling itchy.

The sunshine is calling me, so I walk out of the apartment in search of fresh air.

It might be foolish, but I can’t look at the walls of my apartment any longer.

I can’t be this close to Gabe and keep from touching him.

I’m so far at the end of my rope that tempting fate, and the man that’s after me, seems like a better plan than hiding.

I stand on the stoop and tip my face up to the cloudless sky, letting the warmth chase the chill from my bones.

It’s one of those weird March days of almost seventy-degree weather bookended by forty-degree weather.

It’s a hint of promise of better days to come.

Positive Tess would take that as a sign, but Positive Tess is nowhere to be found right now so I enjoy the warmth cascading over me and breathe deep because sometimes all you can do is breathe deep and keep going.

Bad things happen, Theresa.

I lower my chin and open my eyes to find a large man standing at the bottom of the steps staring up at me.

I startle and squeak.

“Should you be out here?” he asks.

I take a step back, blindly reaching behind me for the door handle.

So maybe tempting fate isn’t such a good idea after all.

Gabe’s going to be really mad if this man snatches me off the street and takes off with me.

Weird that my only thought is that Gabe will be upset and not that this man can probably unalive me in the amount of time it takes to draw in a breath to scream.

The very large man tips his head toward the door. “Best get back inside, Miss James, before Mr. Strong comes out here and carries you back.”

“I—” What?

Before I can get clarification on exactly what he means, the door bursts open, slamming into my back and knocking me forward. I’m teetering on the top step, about to plunge down them when hands grab my waist and yank me back. I’m pulled into a chest I’m becoming all too familiar with.

“Damn it, Tess. What the hell are you doing?”

The big guy in the suit tips his head and smirks.

“Thank you, Roger,” Gabe says.

Roger? Who the hell’s Roger?

“You don’t even have shoes on,” Gabe says as he picks me up. Picks. Me. Up . And carries me inside. “Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He lowers my feet to the ground but doesn’t let go of my hips, keeping us so close that I feel the softness of his joggers brush against my leggings.

His face is like stone, all hard planes and angry lips pressed closed, blue eyes flat and furious.

His anger is palpable but mine is also starting to stir.

Finally, an emotion that isn’t self pity.

“Why is there a very large man standing outside my apartment?” I ask.

“Roger?”

“If that’s the name of the very large man standing outside my apartment, then yes. Roger. Why is Roger out there?” I point toward the street.

“He’s keeping tabs on things. Like women who’re supposed to stay inside but don’t.”

I lift my chin. “I’m not a prisoner. I can go where I want.”

His fingers flex on my hips, pressing on a bruise. Such a juxtaposition. His fingers are hurting me, but his presence is healing me. “You’re not a prisoner, but I need you to be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

What does he know? There’s no possible way he’s found out about my mother. As far as he’s concerned the attack at the bar was random. I was careful not to admit that I suspect the reason behind the attack.

“Safe from people who want to hurt you.”

I bunch his soft t-shirt in both fists. “I’ll be okay. I don’t need you or anyone else to keep me safe.” Because you’ve been doing such a bang-up job of it yourself?

His body goes stiff, those fingers digging deeper.

I sense the disappointment that washes through him and straight into me, making me feel dirty and unworthy.

He’s done so much for me and all I can do is lie to protect him.

It’s not a good look. It’s definitely not a good feeling. But it’s for his own good.

He startles me when he swoops me back up and holds me while climbing all four flights of stairs.

“I can walk,” I say a little breathlessly.

“I know you can, but I need to carry you for me. Where’re your shoes? You could step on something and then I’d have to take you to get a tetanus shot.”

But what I hear is, then you’ll trouble me more than you already have, and this is just one more thing I’ll have to do for you.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

He sets me on my feet outside my apartment. But instead of opening the door, he crowds me against the wall, planting a hand on either side of my head as he leans forward until our noses are almost touching.

“Did I say you’re a bother?”

“I know I’m a bother. I know I’m keeping you from work.”

He closes his eyes and inhales through his nose, his chest expanding until it’s brushing against mine. And it feels good, so good, being this close to him. I put my hands behind my back and press my palms to the wall to keep from hugging him. I miss hugs. I miss having someone to hug.

He reaches behind me and pulls my hands between us, sandwiching them in his.

“Woman, I’m here because I want to be. I know you don’t believe me.

I know life’s taught you that you can’t rely on anyone.

I know I’m going to have to work for your trust. I know me telling you all of this isn’t going to convince you and the only way to convince you is for me to show up every minute of every day.

I fully intend to do that.” He rubs his nose alongside mine and whispers, “I’m not going anywhere. ”

I blink, then blink again. I want to believe him. I want more than anything in this whole world to believe him. That I can’t says nothing about him and everything about how broken I am. He can’t fix a person who’s unfixable.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper because it’s the only thing I can think to say.

He growls. Growls . “Stop apologizing. None of this is your fault. Do you at least understand that?”

I nod because I do know that. I know what broke me. I can point my finger at the person who took a little girl and continually shattered every dream.

“Good.” He presses his lips to mine in a quick kiss that leaves me wanting more. But that’s my life, isn’t it? Always wanting more?

“Why’d you leave?” He studies me closely, his eyes bouncing between mine and I suddenly understand that he thought I was leaving leaving.

“I stepped outside for a minute to feel the sun.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “That’s it?”

I press a hand to his chest, right above his heart. “I promise I wasn’t running away. I truly just wanted to feel the sun.”

“I would have gone with you if you’d asked.”

“You were busy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He’s staring at my lips. His head inches closer as if he wants to kiss me again before he reconsiders and jerks back. “You can always disturb me. No matter what I’m doing or where I am I will always come to you when you need me.”

My poor battered heart lurches with the need to believe him. To believe in him. “Why?”

He drops his head to stare at the floor.

When he lifts it, there’s a resolve that I haven’t seen in him before.

“Because you mean something to me, Tess. You’re the first woman since Cara to really, really mean something to me.

” He releases my hands to skim the back of his fingers down my cheek.

“You, Spitfire, woke me up when I’d been asleep too damn long and I don’t want to lose that. ”

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “Don’t put that on me, Gabriel Strong. I’m not...” I swallow. “I’m not the person you think I am.”

What I really mean is that I’m not worthy of his feelings, however badly I want to be.

“No, Tess,” he says sadly. “You’re everything I think you are. The problem is, you’re not the person you think you are.”