Page 23 of This Kind of Forever

Nothing bad can happen if I stay up to watch.

I can’t be disappointed if I don’t expect anyone to come save me.

A bang on the door makes me shriek. I cover my ears and slam my eyes closed, curling further into a ball. The knocking sounds again.

“Foster!” I hear over the shrieking of the wind. “Let me in!”

I scramble off my bed and lunge for the door. Gabe, soaked through with rain, stands on my doorstep. I only allow myself a moment of confusion before I tug him inside and shut out the storm once again.

“What are you doing?” I croak. “You’re wet.”

The Gabe I used to know would have made a cheeky joke in response, but this Gabe is only looking at me in concern. I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly very aware that I’m not wearing a bra under my t-shirt.

“You don’t like storms,” he says simply. As if that answers all my questions.

“No, I don’t. That doesn’t explain why you came out here.”

“You’re coming inside. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of you out here alone in the first place, but especially not when it’s storming and I know you’re scared.”

My heart trips over itself at the look of genuine care on his face. But he has always looked out for me—it’s what he does. I need to stop myself from reading more into it.

We’re friends. Friends care about each other.

My arms tighten across my chest. “I’m a grown woman, Gabriel.”

“Believe me, Foster, I’m well aware.” If I didn’t know any better, I would say that his eyes trace my body then, lingering on the dips and curves. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be worried about you.”

Another protest is on my lips when thunder crashes above our heads. I cry out as I instinctively clutch Gabe’s shirt, pressing my body against his. He wraps an arm around me, a hand trailing up and down my back in a soothing motion.

“Will you come inside with me now?”

I nod as my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

After I find an umbrella in one of the boxes I still haven’t unpacked, we make a run for the main house. Gabe holds the umbrella above us, dragging me along behind him by my hand, but it does little to keep us from getting drenched. Once we’re inside, Gabe sets the umbrella out to dry and then tugs me deeper into the house.

We ascend the stairs and head down the hallway. Gabe opens the door to Abbie’s bedroom and peers inside quickly. She’s fast asleep, despite the noise outside, the pink glow from her nightlight casting the shadows away.

I haven’t been in this part of the house before. I haven’t had reason to come up here. I try to only stick to the spaces that are absolutely necessary, so I haven’t explored beyond the kitchen, downstairs bathroom and laundry room.

Gabe leads me to another room and gestures for me to go inside. I step over the threshold, noting the bedside lamp that illuminates the space, and stop short. But Gabe is already slipping past me.

He pulls open a dresser drawer and rifles through it. When he pulls out a dry shirt and sweatpants, and tosses them toward me, I frown.

“You can change in there,” he says, pointing to the en suite. I stare blankly at him, my brain caught up on the fact that I’m in hisbedroom. “Hallie?”

I blink, my brain restarting.Right. My pajamas are soaked. He’s being nice enough to lend me some before setting me up in the guest room down the hall.

In the bathroom, I quickly strip out of my wet clothes and toss them over the edge of the bathtub. Then I slip the borrowed shirt over my head. It’s just loose enough to be the perfect amount of comfortable. I shamelessly bring the collar up to my nose to inhale the familiar scent of Gabe’s detergent. It’s probably run-of-the-mill, but it reminds me of him.

After I have the sweatpants on, I return to the bedroom. It’s then I notice that Gabe has turned down the other half of his comforter.

“You can have that side.”

“Gabe—”

“Bed,” he says, pointing for emphasis.

“But I can’t. This is your room.” My voice comes out shaky. “I’ll stay in the guest room.”