Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(66)

Groaning and stretching his arms back, Gabe glances over at me and frowns before dropping his hands back onto his lap and petting Princess. “Are you going to sit there and mope all night?”

“Probably.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, just fucking call her!”

“And say what? Sorry I had a meltdown and ignored you when you told me you loved me?”

He cracks a smile and shrugs. “Well, maybe not in those words.”

“That’s the point. I have no idea what the hell to say, how to explain any of it, when I don’t even understand it.”

Gabe stares at me, and I can tell he wants to say something more, but instead, he hands Princess off to me and stands, grabbing the pizza box and piling the empty beer bottles into it.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, turning to watch him disappear into the kitchen and re-emerge sans garbage.

He pauses at the door, his back to me. He looks like he’s contemplating something. It isn’t like Gabe not to just say whatever is on his mind, and, quite frankly, it’s disconcerting.

Glancing over his shoulder at me, he offers me a half-smile and opens the door. “I have something I need to take care of tonight, before it gets too late.”

He’s lying. I know it, and he knows I know it. But, I don’t call him on it. Whatever is on his mind, he doesn’t want to share it, so I will give him his space. “See ya tomorrow, then.” He waves over his shoulder and disappears into the hallway.

Princess stands on my lap, looking up at me expectantly. “What do you want?” She jumps down next to me on the couch and slips under my hand. “You want me to pet you? You women are so demanding.”

I return my attention to the dumbasses in the savanna and manage to forget how badly I blew things with Danika for an hour. Well, not forget, but push it to the back of my mind long enough to have a few laughs at the expense of these suckers.

Actually, disappearing into the African wilderness sounds pretty awesome right about now, though I doubt it’s handicapped accessible.

My phone vibrates, signaling an incoming text message. I grab it and prepare to be bombarded by more questions from Skye I have no intention of answering. But, it isn’t Skye. It’s Gabe.

What the hell? He couldn’t just come across the damn hall?

> Dr. Anna Cochran (504) 205-1289 <

< What? Who is that? >

> She’s a shrink. She helped me. Call her. <

A shrink? Since when does Gabe see a shrink?

We’ve been best friends basically our entire lives, and I’ve never once heard him mention going to therapy. Even after he was discharged, he never said anything to give any indication he was seeing someone, or that he needed to.

I always assumed Gabe told me everything. I guess because I never keep any secrets from him. It’s hard to keep secrets from the person I depend on for so many things, someone I’m closer to than my own actual brother.

But, a shrink?

I’ve never really believed in that shit. It’s for people who are weak, who can’t get their shit together, and that has never been me. After the accident, my doctors sent in a therapist to talk to me, and I practically barked him out of the room. I put what was left of my former life back together just fine on my own.

Still, the events of the other night run through my mind—the way Danika looked when she told me she loved me, when I didn’t respond.

Fuck!

I may have thought I had my shit together, but the last twenty-four hours certainly have me rethinking that belief.

< You really think she can help? >

> I do. <

I sigh and run my hand through Princess’ soft fur, the feel of the silky strands through my fingers soothing my frayed nerves. “It can’t hurt to try, right, girl?” She looks up, tilting her head to the side as if she actually understands what I am saying to her. “Yeah, that’s my thought, too.”

Staring at the litany of unanswered text messages and phone calls from Skye, another text comes through. I know I have to respond before she shows up, unannounced, on my doorstep.

< Skye, leave it alone. I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It’s almost midnight, go to sleep. >

The three little dots show up instantly.

> You’re fine, my ass! You better call me tomorrow morning or I will come down to the club. <

She will, and she won’t leave until she squeezes every last painful detail from me. She’s even more brutal in person than she is digitally.

< I promise. Goodnight. >

> Goodnight. Get ready to spill. <

I slip my phone into my pocket and look down at Princess, who is lying on her back with her tiny little paws in the air, begging for a belly rub. “It’s time for bed, girl. Let’s get you outside.”

After a quick pit-stop, I climb into bed, emotionally exhausted. The soul-crushing loneliness of an empty bed hits me immediately.

What if she never comes back? What if that was the last time I’ll have the woman I love in my bed?

My phone sits dark on the nightstand. I stare at it—for an inordinate amount of time—hoping, praying, she will call, or text…anything to tell me she’s thinking about me, and we aren’t over.

But, she won’t call, or text, because I’ve given her no indication we aren’t over. My action, or inaction, only confirmed to her that I didn’t want to fix whatever is wrong between us, and that can’t be further from the truth.