Page 50 of Every Broken Piece

“Nah.” He flicks his fingers in the air. “You’re pretty cool.”

And that right there is high praise coming from Pax.

To my surprise, Pax spends the rest of the day with me. He says he knows more about the city than I do, and he knows where the good apartments are.

“Can’t have you living in a bad part of town,” he says as he settles in next to me at the overly large kitchen table. He frowns at my old laptop but doesn’t say anything.

I quickly learn that his idea of a good apartment is vastly different than mine.

We look together, discussing amenities and location while I dream of being able to afford something.

Not large like this place, but larger than my apartment in Cincinnati.

What we don’t discuss is me looking at different cities.

Around lunchtime Pax roots around in the freezer and pulls out two frozen pizzas.

“Two?” I raise my brows.

“One for you and one for me.”

“I can’t eat a whole pizza.”

“But I can,” he says as he unwraps them and preheats the oven.

True to his word he eats a whole pizza and half of mine as I search for jobs.

“I’m telling you,” he says as he swallows. “You’re wasting your time. Dad has a huge corporation. He can find you something.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“He won’t think you’re imposing. My guess is he’ll want you close.”

I eye him over the top of my computer, then lower my eyes because I feel myself blushing. These Strong men are dangerous with their confidence.

The doorbell rings and I still as my heart lurches.

Pax jumps up and jogs to the door. I want to tell him to not open it.

I want to hide, but oddly I also want to stand in front of Pax in case it’s the man my mother sent after me.

Then I remind myself that we’re in a very secure apartment building that doesn’t let just anyone up to the top sanctuary.

Pax swings open the door like a person who’s never confronted evil on the other side.

“Luis, my man. What’s up.”

“Mr. Paxton,” says the man Pax called Luis who I can’t see because Pax is blocking the door.

I step up next to Pax in case this is a trick, and this person is out to hurt us.

Luis is dressed in a black suit and has a name tag that says, surprisingly, Luis .

“I have some boxes for a Tess James.”

I shoulder my way in front of Pax. “That’s me.” Who’s sending me packages?

Luis piles three big boxes inside the front door and smiles.

“Thanks, Luis,” Pax calls after him before closing the door.

I stare at the boxes.

“You gonna open them?”

“I don’t know who sent them.”

Pax bends over to study the labels, then straightens. “Dad sent them.”

Gabe sent me packages?

Pax disappears then returns with a steak knife and hands it to me. With my wrist, it’s difficult so he slices the packing tape, and I lift the flaps then fall back on my heels with a gasp.

Blankets.

So many blankets in so many bright colors. Fleece. Quilts. Cotton. There’s even a weighted blanket.

I press my fingers to my trembling lips.

“Huh,” Pax says, eyeing the blankets spilling out of the boxes. “Weird.”

Not weird. Thoughtful. Damn Gabriel Strong. He’s trying so hard to destroy the walls that I’m frantically shoring up.

Pax drags the boxes into the living room, and I pull the blankets out, caressing each one before carefully putting it aside to reach for the next. There are ten in all. I love my blankets, but I’ve never cried over them until now.

Pax just watches with a confused look.

Me: You bought me blankets? Bubble gum toothpaste and now blankets. I don’t know what to do with all this

Gabe: Create your cocoon on my couch. I hope you enjoy them

Me: Thank you

He doesn’t answer me, and I neatly pile the blankets on the couch, fully intending to create the best, the biggest blanket cocoon ever.

Around dinner my phone rings and my heart jumps a little to see Gabe’s name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“How’s that blanket cocoon?” His voice wraps around me, chasing away the anxieties that’ve been creeping in since the blankets arrived.

I don’t know why I can’t shake the feeling that all of this is too good to be true.

Well, I do know why. Because whenever anything good happens in my life my mother finds a way to destroy it.

However, Gabe’s voice quiets those thoughts.

“I miss you, Spitfire.”

“Um. Same.”

“Yeah? Is my son sitting there?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “He treating you right?”

“He’s just like his father.”

Pax groans. I grin.

“Hey, listen, Tess. I’m so sorry but this meeting’s lasting way longer than I thought. I wanted to be home for dinner but I’m not going to make it. I hate like hell that I’m abandoning you on your first day in Denver.”

“Don’t worry about it. Pax and I are looking for apartments for me. He’s been very helpful.”

The line goes silent for a long moment. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. I can’t impose on you forever.”

“Later, Tess. How are you feeling? Is your head hurting? Your wrist?”

I’ve been typing on the computer most of the day, so my wrist is killing me, and staring at the screen is making my head ache but I’m not telling him that. “I’m fine.”

He sighs. “I know you, Spitfire. Take some ibuprofen and take a break.”

“Yes, sir.”

He chuckles. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Bye, Tess.”

“Bye, Gabe.”

I hang up but clutch my phone to my chest as warmth spreads through me.

This feeling of being wanted, cherished, and cared for, is so foreign and so addicting—like a drug.

I want more of it and yet I fear it. I fear that this deep need for Gabe, for the way he makes me feel, will wreck me in the end.

That the road it will lead me down will be beautifully painful, achingly heartbreaking, and in the end, profoundly devastating.

“Let’s eat.” Pax jumps up and heads to the kitchen where he pulls out last night’s Chinese leftovers.

“You just had a whole pizza and a half. You can’t be hungry.”

“I’m always hungry and it’s dinner time. Let me guess, Dad won’t be home.”

“No,” I say quietly. I told Gabe I understood but that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed.

Pax tosses a container in the microwave and pushes some buttons. “You ever play Go Fish?”

“Go Fish? As in the kids’ card game?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s been a few years, but yes, I’ve played.”

His grin is wicked. “After dinner we’ll play.”