Page 24 of This Kind of Forever

“Get your ass in my bed, Foster.”

The command in his tone turns my insides to jelly. Coupled with the shakiness of my limbs from the stress of the storm, I have no choice but to comply.

“Jeez,” I mutter as I slide under the covers, instantly wishing I could stay in this bed forever. “You’re really bossy.”

At this, Gabe smirks. “Baby, you haven’t seen bossy yet.”

A retort—a really freaking clever one, too—dies on my tongue when he proceeds totake his shirt off. Not only are there muscles that eighteen-year-old Gabe did not possess, but there are also tattoos.Lotsof tattoos, just like I secretly hoped. On the left side of his ribs, I spot Abbie’s name.

“Gabriel!” I hiss.

He quirks a brow when he comes back from hanging the wet shirt in the en suite. “Yes, Hallie?”

“Why are you getting naked?”

“Don’t you know that’s how I sleep?”

“I—” My mouth runs dry. “Wh-what?”

I can feel all the blood draining from my face. But at the same time, the thought makes my insides feel warm.

No. Abort. Shut it down, HallieFoster.

Gabe laughs at the look on my face. “I’m kidding. Would you prefer if I changed in the bathroom instead?”

Do Iwanthim to? No. Do Ineedhim to? Yes. Definitely yes.

“Please. If you don’t mind.”

Gabe gathers a dry shirt and pajama pants for himself, and then he disappears into the en suite, as promised, while I wither away in embarrassment on his king-sized, cloud-like bed. Now that I sent him away, I just look like a prude who can’t handle a little bare skin.

When he emerges from the bathroom, fully clothed, I pretend to be asleep. You can’t answer questions if you’re asleep, and I know he’s itching to ask me about my freak-out in the guesthouse. I feel the bed dip as he settles beside me. I hold my breath, afraid it will give me away.

“I know you’re still awake.”

Busted.

I roll over on my side to face him. He mirrors my position. Since I came into the house, it’s been easy to ignore the stormraging outside, but another snap of thunder—louder than all the rest—has my eyes squeezing shut. Gabe’s palm slides under mine, and then he interlaces our fingers. He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I take that as permission to tighten my grip.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks gently.

I shake my head. Growing up with my mother was complicated. Most people know there’s a story there, but only Clara has been afforded some of the pieces. The last person I want to share all that with is Gabe.

His thumb begins to rub soothing circles across the back of my hand. “What do you usually do when there’s a storm?”

Slowly, I open my eyes. My cheeks flush. “Stay up until it stops or until I’m physically too exhausted to keep my eyes open.”

“Christ, Hallie.” I try to pull my hand out of his, feeling oddly vulnerable, but he refuses to let me go. “Wait. I’m not judging you. I just hate that you’ve had to go through that alone all these years.”

My one shoulder tips up in a shrug. “C’est la vie.”

Gabe is quiet for a moment. The wind never ceases, but neither do the concentric circles he draws on my skin.

“Can we try something?” he eventually asks.

“Like what?”

Gabe tugs gently on my hand, guiding me until I’m half on top of him. My lips part as my breasts brush against the hard planes of his chest. And with that, I’ve lost all my ability to speak.