Most of All You: A Love Story(37)
After I finished, I brushed my teeth and pulled my hair up into a messy bun. The term messy bun had always been a style choice before; now it was very much a reality. My hair was a complete rat’s nest.
The swelling had gone down on my face, although I still sported several bruises of varying colors. I touched them gingerly, assessing the damage, finally sighing and turning away from the mirror. Not wanting to wake Gabriel, I opened my bedroom door quietly.
As I made my way down the short hallway into the main living area, the rich, delicious smell of coffee hit my nose. I drew in a deep breath. I hadn’t had coffee in a week. I hadn’t had much of a taste for anything specifically except the reduction of my pain. But now, the smell made my mouth water.
The coffeemaker sat on the counter, half-full. I opened the cabinet directly above it and found mugs there, including a travel cup with a lid. After adding a generous amount of sugar from a dish on the counter, I tightened the lid and took a sip, sighing as the strong sweetness filled my mouth.
Limping out of the kitchen with the cup held carefully in one hand, I caught movement outside the French doors and leaned forward to look through the glass. Gabriel was outside, sitting at a table on a large patio, leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head, his own cup of coffee in front of him.
I hesitated briefly but then hobbled my way outside. At the sound of the door opening, Gabriel turned, looking momentarily surprised before a smile took over his face. He stood, taking my coffee from me. “Hey, good morning. You’re up. How do you feel?”
I set my crutches aside and started lowering myself carefully into the chair next to him. He placed my coffee in front of me and helped guide me into the chair. I sighed when I was finally seated and turned my head to Gabriel. His face was inches from mine, and when our eyes met, his widened, his breath quickening as we locked gazes. I took a big inhale, taking in the familiar scent of him: some subtly manly-smelling soap that brought to mind the woods in winter—cool and piney. I had the sudden thought that I’d forevermore equate that scent with feeling cared for … with the hand that calmed and comforted in the midst of pain.
The idea startled me and left me feeling exposed—though he couldn’t read my mind—and I turned my head away from those soulful hazel eyes holding me suspended. The movement seemed to snap Gabriel back to the moment as well, and he returned to his own chair.
I looked out to the horizon, where the sun was glowing as it rose over the trees. My eyes lingered on it for a moment before I answered the question he’d asked a minute ago. “I feel a little bit better this morning,” I said, breaking the strange tension that had suddenly developed between us.
He smiled. “Good. You look better.”
I let out a short huff before taking a sip of coffee. “Oh yeah, I’m a beauty.” I looked at him, and he was watching me with a small smile on his lips. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I always get up this early. I do my best work in the morning.”
“Your work …”
“I’ve been working in the garage this week.”
“Oh.” Right. I’d almost forgotten he worked at all. A rock sculptor, he’d said. “Can I … see what you do later?”
He glanced at me. “Sure, if you’d like.”
I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee, sighing from the pleasure of it. It was the first time I’d felt really human since that night in the parking lot. I started to push that memory away, but it made me think of what had happened just before, why I’d been so filled with self-hatred. I’d hurt Gabriel and detested myself for it. I’d provoked those men on purpose and ended up … here. With Gabriel. Ironic. I snorted at the cosmic joke.
“What?” Gabriel asked, looking at me briefly and then staring back out at the rising sun.
I studied his profile for a moment—the strong line of his jaw, the shadow of scruff on it. He hadn’t shaved in several days, presumably because he hadn’t left the house. I liked it. “Why did you come when Kayla called you? After what I did to you?” He turned his head, and my eyes darted away, but when I glanced back he was only looking at me thoughtfully, no anger in his expression at the mention of how I’d used Rita to set him up.
He opened his mouth to answer and then paused as if weighing the words he was about to say. “I wish I had come sooner. I had a dream about you.”
I watched him. He was serious. I huffed out a small sound of amusement. “A dream. So you’re some sort of mystic?”
He shot me a grin, his whole face lighting up that way it did. It was beautiful, but it was also slightly painful in the same way light makes you want to squint when it’s turned on in a dark room. I looked away, uncomfortable with the way my stomach flipped, uncomfortable because his smile always seemed to startle me slightly deep inside as if my very bones were reacting. What was that? It was a wonder the sensation didn’t hurt my injured ribs.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a mystic, no. But I’d like to think there’s some mystery to life. Don’t you?”
You’re going the wrong way. You must turn back, sweetness.
I sighed, pushing the memory of my own dream away. Just a dream. “Mystery? Sure there’s mystery to life. It’s a mystery how I’m going to pay all my medical bills, it’s a mystery how I’m going to keep from being evicted from my apartment with no job. Life is just full of mysteries, Gabriel. They’re everywhere.”