Page 31 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

He knows my mom can be a kooky character and she’s the one I inherited ill-timed jokes from.

She most certainly was emotional at the time.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her hand trembled when she put it over mine.

But the words she said were anything but a throwaway quip.

They were, and still are, an anchor in the toughest storms.

“I asked my mom what she thought it would feel like to die. She said, for me, maybe it would be like drowning.” I laugh to myself.

“I now know it wouldn’t be like that, but at the time, it made sense to eleven-year-old me.

My lungs were always heavy as if filled with water.

And she told me that drowning isn’t painful.

It’s peaceful. She said it doesn’t hurt like other deaths.

Somehow that made me feel calmer. To think it wouldn’t hurt. ”

I can still smell the antiseptic and the scent of soap on my mother’s freshly washed hands when she stroked my hair with affection.

“She said, but Lara, you will never actually die. You will slip under the sea and become a mermaid. Your lungs will fill, and you will swim off into another world, quiet and beautiful and full of more wonder than you can even imagine.”

I’ve never told this story in part because it makes my fierce, caring mother sound as though she’s making light of something painful. But Gabriel respects her. Others might never understand how my mother framing my death as reincarnation into a magical world got me through so many panic attacks.

Gabriel knows how badly I need fairy tales to survive reality.

“That’s beautiful.” He barely gets the words out.

“It is.” I run my finger along his lip, and he kisses it.

My heart squeezes. “Even though these meds are amazing and it’s changed my outcome, I still think about death.

Funny enough, I think about it when things are good and I want to cling to this world.

But even now, when the panic hits, I close my eyes and imagine myself sinking down, watching the sunshine reflecting on the surface of a silent, peaceful ocean, and swimming away into another world. ”

Gabriel’s eyes are glassy, and he clears his throat. “Does that work, to calm you?”

“It used to.”

“What changed?”

My heart stumbles. Energy radiates between us.

I cup his jaw. “Now I want to take someone with me.”

It feels reckless to admit, but I don’t look away. Not from him. Not from the way he’s watching me like I’ve just handed him something sacred.

“I’d follow you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Into the deep.”

It’s not a promise. It’s a vow. And I believe him. Somehow I’ve always known Gabriel and I are bound, that space and time can’t tear us apart.

I know he’ll find me in whatever comes after this life. But will he walk beside me in this one?

I press my cheek onto his chest; if I open my mouth now, I’ll cry. So instead, I hold him tighter and pray that tonight stretches longer than any other. If I forget everything else, I want to remember the night I wasn’t afraid of death, only of losing him. And he told me I never would.

We stay like that for a while, quiet and warm and still sticky with each other’s skin. Eventually, he shifts beneath me, and I start to feel awkward having made such a massive confession.

But we’re good like that… one of us always knows how to lighten the space.

He kisses the top of my head. “Let’s do something reckless.”

I blink up at him, glad to see a glint in his eye.

“Let me use your toothbrush.”

I snort, relieved at the change of tone. I’m not ready for rejection or talks about our ill-fated future. Not tonight. Not when the air between us is fragile enough to shatter with one wrong word.

“You really are full of yourself if you think I like you that much,” I smirk. “But I have a spare.”

He sits up and snags his boxer briefs from the floor, unfortunately putting himself away. His muscular frame owns several scars and a tattoo in beautiful calligraphy that reads: John 15:13.

I run my fingers over it. “I never knew you had this.”

“I got it in the military.”

“What is that verse?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, bicep flexing. “It’s nothing.”

I glance around for my shirt, and it’s all the way across the room somehow. “Come on.”

“Fine.” He recites, “Greater love no one has than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

My Lord, CF has nothing on the death by swoon I am experiencing with this man.

But he shrugs it off. “Yeah, I know.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Martyr complex.”

But wasn’t that exactly what he did overseas?

I take his hand more seriously now. “It’s so you. Not a martyr. A selfless protector.”

He drops his gaze to the floor. He’s never been good with praise. I want to press harder, make him see what I see. Instead, I soften and help him in this moment the way only we know how.

“Take the compliment, G.” I slide into his lap, our bodies reconnecting like they never want to part. “But if you start turning water into wine, I might not let you leave this room ever again.”

That earns me a smirk.

“Now that would be a noble task.” He squeezes my ass in his giant palm. “Let’s grab a shower.”

He lifts me, my legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me like I weigh no more than a flea. Then I have the best damn shower of my life. The man washes every inch of my body, worshipping it.

After that, we make our way into the living room. Freya’s tote bag is by the door. The broken glass is gone, wiped clean like the whole thing never happened.

What will Arthur’s place will look like afterward if Cameron enters it? The now tidy space is a lie of order over the chaos underneath.

Here I was, pretending I could live inside that lie for one more night.

I’m so grateful for my best friend.

She saw the wreckage, fixed it, and tiptoed back out again.

That’s what we do for each other. We fix things for each other without needing trumpets and fanfare.

I wish tomorrow I didn’t have to deal with reality again and could just hop on Freya’s bed in the morning so we could squeal and kick our feet as I tell her about the sexy man in my bed like a normal woman would.

But that’s not in the cards.

I glance at the front door. A question blooms in my mind, sharp and unwelcome.

What if Cameron comes armed?

Is he that desperate?

And if he got to me first, Gabriel would never forgive himself. The thought of G living with even more guilt and pain terrifies me even more than getting hurt. He’s so hard on himself.

Anton and Gabriel both swore I’d be safe. That the second he breaks in, he’s done. But none of that erases the part of me that wonders.

Will they actually get to him before he gets to me?

Like stormwater in a drain, my thoughts spin, spiraling tighter and tighter…

“Hey.” Gabriel tucks my hair behind my ear. “Come back to me.”

“All good,” I say, grabbing two bowls, blowing it off. All the talk in the world won’t change what happens tomorrow.

G makes ramen in my tiny kitchen, insists we eat in bed like college students. We watch Schitt’s Creek on my tablet. I snort so hard at something David says I almost choke on a noodle. Gabriel kisses the top of my head like he’s been doing it for years.

I laugh until my sides hurt, all the while knowing tomorrow could steal this from me. And maybe that’s why it feels so achingly beautiful tonight.

It’s the simplest night I’ve ever had with a man. A warm bed. A full belly. A protector who holds me like I’m something sacred, gives me things I once thought I’d never have.

And just when I think we’re drifting off, his hand slides between my thighs, slow and reverent. This time, we don’t have sex.

We make love.

The kind of love that makes you forget every reason you swore leaving was safer… and tempts you to stay anyway.