It's Only Love(11)

Groaning, he thrust into her hand and came.

She stayed with him all the way through it until he relaxed against her.

His hand slid inside her shirt and curved around her back. “I feel incredibly lucky that you’ll even speak to me let alone do that.”

“We’re both lucky to have this opportunity to be together this way. Promise you won’t hurt me, Gavin.”

“That’s the last thing in the world I want to do.”

It wasn’t exactly a promise, but she’d take what she could get where he was concerned.





CHAPTER 5




Grief can take care of itself, but to get

the full value of a joy you must have

somebody to divide it with.

—Mark Twain



Waking with Ella tucked up against him, Gavin replayed the night before, picking over every detail and every minute they’d spent together. What she’d said to him about Caleb and how he was left to live for both of them had struck home. It was true and something he’d been aware of for quite some time, while he tried to find a way through the relentless grief to get back to living.

He could barely remember what his life had been like before the day that shattered all their lives. In the ensuing years, he’d put himself back together as best he could, but none of the pieces fit quite the way they used to. He was like the old ceramic vase his mother had treasured until he and Caleb had knocked it over while wrestling one day and then attempted to cover up their crime by gluing the fragments back together.

The vase had never been the same, and neither had he after his brother died. He’d coped, of course. He’d had no choice but to carry on. He had parents who needed him, a business that had been new to him at the time of Caleb’s death, and with everything he had sunk into it, letting it founder wasn’t an option. In many ways, the business had saved him by giving him something to focus on.

Last night Ella had shown him in only a few hours that there was a huge difference between existing and living. He felt more alive and aware and alert with her in his arms than he had in years. The constant, relentless pain that held him in its tight grip had lessened at some point, and he had her to thank for that.

She was taking a huge gamble with him. He hadn’t been joking when he called himself a fixer-upper. Disaster area might be a better term. But he was determined to be worthy of her, even if his better judgment was still telling him he ought to leave her alone.

After what happened last night, however, leaving her alone was the last thing he wanted. Though he’d gotten up and changed into clean underwear and flannel pajama pants, his hand had once again ventured inside the open front of the shirt of his that she wore. Her skin was so soft and her hair smelled so good. Like fresh air and sunshine and happiness. Ella was the most joyful person he knew—always smiling and happy and laughing.

It would kill him if any of that changed because of him. I can’t let that happen. She’d already nearly killed him once when she asked him to promise that he wouldn’t hurt her. It would ruin him if he ever hurt her, so he made a silent vow to be careful with her, to treat her like the most fragile, important, priceless thing in his life. Because she was. The way she’d come riding to his rescue more than once and kept coming back even after he’d sent her away was evidence of her commitment to him.

She stirred, mumbled something he couldn’t hear and then opened her eyes.

He got to watch her initial surprise at seeing him and then felt her relax when she remembered why she was there with him.

“Morning.” He kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

So she wasn’t particularly chatty in the morning, or perhaps she was rethinking her decision to spend the night with him. He couldn’t say he blamed her, but he really hoped that wasn’t the case.

“I . . . um, I should get going.” Clutching both sides of the unbuttoned shirt, Ella turned over, dislodging the hand he had on her ribs. She got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Suddenly, Gavin was panic stricken at the possibility that she had regrets about what had happened last night. He couldn’t let her leave without making sure she was okay. Moving quickly, he got up, found a T-shirt and went straight to the kitchen to put on coffee and mix pancake batter. By the time she emerged from the bedroom fully dressed, he had pancakes cooking on the griddle and coffee ready.

He poured her a cup and pushed it across the counter to her along with the cream and sweetener she preferred.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” She focused on the coffee rather than him as she spoke.

“Seemed the least I could do for you after you came to my rescue last night.” Gavin put the first two pancakes off the grill onto her plate along with two sausage links. He slid it across the counter to her along with a knife, a fork, a tub of butter and a jug of her brother Colton’s syrup.

He could almost see her internal debate. Stay and eat or get the hell out of there. Until she decided, he poured more batter on the griddle and bit his tongue so he wouldn’t try to talk her into staying if she really wanted to go.

When she finally took a seat at the bar and began to spread butter on her pancakes, Gavin breathed a sigh of relief. He took his own plate and coffee to join her. They ate in silence for a few minutes before he couldn’t take the quiet any longer.