Most of All You: A Love Story(32)

Her brow furrowed and she looked down, picking at her fingernails.

“I could stop by your apartment and pick up some clothes for you. And I’d visit as much as I can,” Kayla said, clearly in favor of the idea.

“I …” Crystal let the words fade away, still looking down, the crease between her brows still present.

“Unless you have a family member somewhere that you can call, I might be your only choice here. Please accept my help. I’m offering it with no strings attached.”

Her eyes snapped to mine. “There are always strings.”

I shook my head. “Not with me.”

She looked out the window. “Fine,” she whispered, almost as if to herself. The statement itself seemed to exhaust her. Her shoulders sagged, and she leaned back on the pillow, turning her head my way. “Fine.” She closed her eyes and appeared to be instantly asleep, as if agreeing to come with me had exhausted her so much she couldn’t stay awake for one more second. The reaction of a woman who had been fighting alone for a long, long time and had finally surrendered.

*

“Dom?” I called, closing the front door behind me and dropping my keys in the basket by the door.

Dom came from the direction of the kitchen, a beer in his hand. “Hey, I’ve been worried. What’s going on? Where you been?”

I headed toward the kitchen, and he turned to follow me. “Let me get one of those, too, and I’ll tell you,” I muttered. I opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting off the cap and taking a long swallow.

“This must be good if Gabriel Dalton is drinking before dinner. Come on, spill it, man.”

I took another swallow, setting my beer down and leaning against the island. “I met a girl.”

Dominic grinned. “Yeah, so you said. What? You sleeping with her? Is that where you’ve been all night?”

I frowned, knowing Dominic would expect me to share that kind of information with him. And also knowing I’d never make a point to have a conversation with him about sleeping with a woman even if that were the case. “No. I met her at a place called the Platinum Pearl.”

Dominic’s face screwed up, and he just looked at me for a minute. “The strip club over in Havenfield?”

“Yeah. She works there.”

“She works there? What … as a bartender or something? What the hell were you doing in a place like that, Gabe? Jesus, if you wanted to see tits, I have a whole collection on DVD—”

“I didn’t go there to see tits, Dom.” I took another sip of beer and swallowed before continuing. “I went there to hire a woman to help me practice getting close to someone.”

Dominic’s face paled, and he closed his eyes for a split second before opening them and grimacing slightly. “Jesus, Gabriel.”

I held up my hand, knowing the information probably upset him. I’d never gone into detail about why I hadn’t dated. Dom was my brother, not my therapist, and I’d let him believe my shyness and limited desire to socialize was my biggest impediment as far as meeting women went. “I’m not looking for pity. The only reason I’m telling you is because I want you to understand that I went there and I sought her out.”

Dominic sighed, still looking pained. “Okay, whatever. Why does that matter?”

“Because she’s coming to live here.”

Dominic’s eyes went wide. “She’s coming to live here? What the fuck? Is she some type of scam artist? Jesus! Gabriel, we have to talk about this. You can’t just bring some … trashy stripper into our home and expect—”

“She’s not a trashy stripper,” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s in pain—and she’s completely alone. And I’m asking you to keep an open mind and trust me with this. She was beaten up and she needs help. She needs care, and I’m going to give it to her.”

Dom grabbed a handful of hair on the top of his head and turned around, looking as if he was trying to find some calm. But when he turned back, his jaw was tight. “Don’t do this.”

“It’s already done. And I’m sorry you don’t like it, but this is my home and I’m allowing her to stay here.” I tossed my beer bottle in the trash and walked around the counter, intending on going to my room.

Dominic swore again and followed me. “This is insanity! Listen, I know you don’t have any experience with women so you can’t see when you’re being conned, but trust me when I say, that’s exactly what this girl is doing. She’s probably a druggie, too. Most of them are, you know.”

“You don’t even know her,” I said, not turning.

“I know enough to know I don’t want to live with her. And I know enough to know she’s gotten her press-on nails buried in you somehow. I know enough to know you deserve better. Jesus Christ, Gabriel, a fucking stripper?”

I turned, facing him in the hallway. I knew what Dominic meant. It was easy for people—perhaps even me—to make assumptions about women who stripped.

Drug user.

Shallow.

Uneducated.

There was no indication she used drugs, she wasn’t shallow though she put on a decent act, and although I had no idea what type of formal education Crystal might have, I knew she was far from stupid. I pictured the intelligence in her gaze, thought about how well-spoken she was. It was part of her appeal—one of the things that made her so intriguing. “Crystal is a stripper, Dom, but I hope you’ll see her as more than that.”