Most of All You: A Love Story(10)

Just a year before their son came home. God.

I looked up a few more articles, finding similar information. My eyes lingered on the nine-year-old face of Gabriel Dalton, the sweet, all-American smile, those same innocent eyes that I’d seen from the stage. There were only a couple of pictures of Gabriel at fifteen. In the first one, he was long-haired, wide-eyed, and looked distressed by the flash of the camera. In the second, he was standing in the pose that had triggered my memory: hands in pockets, head tilted, his hair falling over his forehead as he squinted slightly at the camera. It was the one all the news stations had used for months on end as they reported on his story.

Biting my lip, I set the phone down, leaning back on my pillows, wondering what hell Gabriel had endured during those six years locked in the basement with a child predator.

You can help me practice being touched by a woman.

I swallowed down a lump, not wanting to think about why he was so averse to being touched. Figuring I already knew.

I hadn’t wanted any part of Gabriel’s self-imposed therapy, but now, sitting here, I couldn’t even remember why I’d said no. Clearly, I was a willing body, and by the sound of things, that was really all he required. He needed me, and I needed the extra money. He could have asked any of the dancers last night, but he’d chosen me, and then I turned him down as if I were too good for the job, but in reality, I wasn’t.

I could help Gabriel become comfortable with someone in his space, someone touching him, and he could give me the money I needed to get my car running again. Win-win. How hard could it be? Yet why did a peculiar sense of anxiety run down my spine? I squashed it, pulling my towel more tightly around myself, and picked up my phone again, doing a search on Dalton Morgan Quarry. It was in the nearby town of Morlea, and although I didn’t know if Gabriel worked there or not, I decided to take a chance, dialing the number. If I couldn’t find him this way, I’d give it up and move on to plan B, whatever that might be. My heart beat more quickly as I waited for someone to answer.

“Dalton Morgan Quarry.”

I hesitated, feeling nervous, unsure.

“Hello?”

“Uh,” I finally got out. “Uh, yes, um, may I speak with Gabriel? Gabriel Dalton?”

There was a short pause. “Sure.” It sounded like the man—young man, I thought—was smiling. “May I tell him who’s calling?” Yes, there was definitely a smile in his voice.

I cleared my throat. “Crystal. Um, just Crystal.”

There was another short pause before the man finally said, “Oh.” He sounded disappointed. What was that about?

I frowned, opening my mouth to say something, when he beat me to it. “Sure thing. Hold on.” Music came on the line and I stood up, holding my towel up with one hand and my phone with the other while I paced in front of my bed. After what seemed like a good five minutes, another voice came on the line.

“Hello?”

It sounded like Gabriel’s voice—at least from what I remembered—and I quit pacing. “Hi, Gabriel? Um, this is Crystal. You might not remember me but—”

“Of course I remember you. Hi.” I heard footsteps and a door close as if he’d gone into another room.

“Hi,” I said, feeling sudden relief, my voice coming out sort of quick and breathy.

“God, I’m glad—”

“I was calling—”

We both spoke at the same time and then both stopped, his chuckle coming through the line. I smiled despite my nerves.

“You first,” he said softly.

“Oh, okay. Well, I, uh, I rethought what we talked about, and I hope you don’t mind me looking you up, but I was calling to say that if you’re still in need of a, uh … if you’re still in need of … me, I’d be happy to help.”

There was a pause and I started pacing again, waiting for him to speak. “Actually, no, and I owe you an apology for even asking. I hadn’t really thought out the idea. I’m sorry about that. Sorry if I made you feel … you know, not good.”

“Not good,” I murmured, sinking down onto my bed, my hand still gripping the towel to keep it from slipping.

I heard a small, embarrassed-sounding chuckle that ended in a sigh. “Yeah, not good.” What else was there to feel except “not good”? That seemed to be life’s default mode—at least for me.

I snapped back to the present. “There’s no need to apologize. I feel just fine. And, well, I understand if you’ve come up with a different idea, but if not, I’m available.” I waited for him to speak, but when he didn’t immediately, I rushed to fill the silence. “You can practice on me. I mean, if you still want to.”

There was silence from the other end of the line again, and this time I waited it out. Finally, Gabriel spoke and his voice was even quieter. “How would this work exactly?”

I laughed shortly. “You’re going to have to let me know that. I figure you can come to the club like last night. I’ll make sure Anthony knows you’ve followed procedure.”

I heard his breath release in what I hoped was a smile, and then he was silent for another moment. “You sure about this? You feel okay with it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” He still sounded hesitant. “When do you work next?”