Page 36

Chapter 36

GAbrIEL

I t would have been hard to walk away from Clay if April hadn’t taken my hand. My adrenaline was still running the show, and it said Clay was a threat. I decided to listen to April instead.

Then Clay had to open his big fucking mouth.

“At least I don’t sleep with my athletes.”

I stopped. The blood in my veins ran cold.

If it was just disrespect towards me, I probably could have stomached it but openly discussing something we (April included) privately indulged in—it felt like a bell tower had rung in my ear. More than that, his voice dripped with malice.

He’d messed with her bike, knowing she could get hurt, because he couldn’t stand the idea of her doing well without him.

Flashes of the wreck were back.

Screeching tires.

April on the ground.

Her helmet three feet from the car’s front tire.

Quieta como la muerte .

Still as death.

The sight of her wounds.

The sound of her whimpering in the shower as the water licked raw skin.

He’d caused it all because he was petty. She could have died over his hubris.

“Although, if I’d known that was all she needed, I would have fucked the inspiration into her a long time ago.”

The last bit of my resolve cracked in half.

I let go of April’s hand and pivoted, throwing my weight forward. Clay’s nose crunched under my knuckles as my fist connected with the middle of his face.

He stumbled backward, one hand scrambling for something to keep him upright, the other trying to staunch blood flow. It didn’t work, rivulets trickled between his fingers and rolled down the back of his hand—dripping onto the front of that fucking sweatshirt he was always wearing.

“Fuck, man!” Clay’s fingers ran up the ridge. “You broke my nose!” His eyes were huge from shock and fear.

He had every right to be afraid. I was just getting started. My hand ached from the blow, but I shook it out, ready to deliver another. Then, arms wrapped around my middle. The strength in the hold didn’t stop me, but the voice did.

“Stop!” April pleaded. She tugged, but I didn’t immediately give in, too locked onto Clay. “Gabe, please.” Her voice shook, and that was enough to pull me through the fog.

She was scared. I was scaring her.

The realization was like a splash of water on my face. It woke me up, and I relented. I let her guide me to the front door. On the way, I noticed the same apprehensive look on everyone’s face. I was no longer the person who gave nutrition advice or stretch routines but a wild animal.

Once we stepped into the cool night air, I slid my hand from hers. Afraid the beast would be back any second. She reached for me, but I backed up. “Don’t,” I said. She looked hurt, so I added, “Please, I just need a minute. I—” What? I didn’t even know.

April kept her hands to her sides, but it looked like a battle. “Are you okay?” she asked, voice still shaking.

“Yeah,” I said, but my voice shook, too. “I’m not the one who has a broken nose, though.” I ran both hands through my hair, then raked them down to my jaw. My adrenaline was wearing off, and my brain prickled to awareness. “I didn’t even think about it. I just hit him.”

“Come on, let’s get you home. We should ice your hand.”

I inspected it. Sure enough, the skin had broken over my knuckles. “I hit him,” I said again, still trying to make sense of what happened.

“It’s okay. Everyone gets angry, Gabe.”

“No. Not this angry. I don’t get this angry. I don’t even know who that was back there.” My chest ached. I knew where this was headed. I’d known the entire time that we wouldn’t have a happy ending. “This is why I don’t let things get serious. I feel too much, April. I feel too much with you.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress.” She was already making excuses for my behavior. Just like my mom used to do for Dad. This is how things started. I hadn’t ended the cycle like I’d hoped; I only delayed it.

How long would it take before April was on the other side of my fist? The thought made me sick. April’s hand landed on my arm, and I flinched, stepping away so quickly that I nearly tripped over my own feet.

“Come on. Let’s get home.” She sounded panicked. “You’ll feel better after some rest.”

“I told you I couldn’t do more than casual,” I said because I warned her this would happen. I tried to prevent this. I really did. “I should have ended things a long time ago.”

April swayed on the sidewalk but let me walk alone to my truck. She didn’t say anything until I opened the door. “Don’t do this,” she begged. Seeing those tears—you’d think someone used my chest to snuff out a cigarette.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, choking on the words.

I closed the door, but I still heard her plea, “Then don’t leave.” As I started the ignition, I knew that picture would haunt me for years to come—just like her wreck would. I’d close my eyes at night and see her standing alone, an orange glow from the streetlamp illuminating the path of tears rolling down her cheeks.

You deserve better, April. You’ll find better. I put the truck in drive, and as her silhouette grew smaller in my rearview mirror, the promise of a better future for her was the only thing that kept my foot on the gas.