Most of All You: A Love Story(80)

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Just that you should have the life you would have had if you hadn’t been taken.”

He was quiet for a good minute before he spoke. “I’m living the life I was meant to have, Eloise. My life—just the way it is, for good or for bad—is the life I was meant to have. I could walk around all day thinking about how I was cosmically robbed, but what good would that do me? I’m living my life—the one I was given. It’s all any of us can do. To imagine otherwise is to deny that there’s a purpose to the suffering we might endure. Yes, I experienced pain, but maybe … maybe the reason for it is that because of my actions, no one else will ever be harmed by the man who abducted me. I don’t know. I don’t try to figure it out. I just trust that this life, my life, is the life I was meant to have, and I find peace in that.”

My love for him swelled in my chest so powerfully that, for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He was so good and so positive, but I had to wonder if Gabriel would accept nearly anything for himself because he was able to find peace in any outcome—it was his gift. It was in the gentleness of his soul, in his desire and ability to always choose happiness no matter what. To glimpse the small sliver of light when others could only see the darkness surrounding it. Maybe Dominic was right—maybe it was up to the people around him—those who loved him—to demand more for him than he would ever demand for himself.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


It’s okay to cry. It’s how your heart speaks its pain.

Gambit, the Duke of Thieves

GABRIEL

Ellie seemed so vulnerable—even more than ever—and it didn’t feel like I could do or say anything to reassure her.

Chloe came by the house to give me the test she needed me to take, and I hated that I rushed her, considering she’d driven all the way to Morlea, but the way Ellie watched the two of us together worried me. She observed us with this knowing sort of sadness, almost a sorrowful determination, and I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but I didn’t think it was good. Did she think I had feelings for Chloe? “I love you,” I whispered to her what felt like a hundred times a day. “Only you.” Couldn’t she see it in my eyes? Couldn’t she feel it with every beat of my heart?

“Hello?” George called as he entered my studio, carrying a box.

“Hey, George.” I turned, sitting up straight and rotating my shoulders.

“Here’s that piece of rock you wanted.” He nodded to the box as he set it down on the table by the door.

“Thanks.”

George came over and looked at the carving I was almost finished with. He ran a hand down the side. “It’s beautiful. Those butterflies look real.”

I smiled and shrugged. “I hope they like it.”

“They’re going to love it.” He paused, leaning against the table behind him. “How’s Ellie?”

I frowned slightly. “You mean after the festival?”

“Yeah, and just in general.”

I pressed my lips together and then sighed. “I don’t know, George, she seems so … breakable.” I grimaced slightly. “I don’t know exactly how to describe it.”

“You changed her, Gabriel. She’s having a hard time figuring out who she is now.” He looked worried as he studied me. “I’m concerned she doesn’t think she’s anyone at all without you. You’ve become her entire world.”

I took a deep breath, his words resonating. They hurt, and yet they felt true. Part of me wanted to be her whole world, but another more reasonable part knew it wasn’t good for her. “What can I do?”

“I encouraged her to learn how to throw a punch. I thought it might empower her a little bit. She hasn’t been back over, though I’ve asked her. I suppose she’s been caught up.”

Caught up. In me. I smiled, but it felt sad. I remembered George teaching me to throw a punch when I’d come home. I’d been fifteen and I spent hours in his garage, moving around the bag, lashing out at it instead of the world, instead of myself. And it helped. But it’d only been a small part of my recovery. “What else?”

He shook his head. “Ah, Gabriel, I’d tell you if I knew. Just … try to remember where you were in the years after you came home.” He stood, smiling softly before turning and heading out the door.

“Thanks, George,” I called. I sat there for a while thinking about that time, thinking about how I’d mostly stayed to myself, how I needed to learn how to trust myself again, how I had to rediscover my place in the world, how I doubted whether I had one at all. It’d been hard and it was lonely, but God, it was necessary. And I’d had to do the work to get through it. No one could have done it for me, even if they wanted to.

I sighed. No, I couldn’t do the work Ellie might need to do for herself, but I could love her through it. And that’s exactly what I would do. If she needed strength, I’d be her rock, if she needed comfort, I’d be her soft spot to land. I’d be anything she needed me to be. And yet something about that felt dangerous—I wanted Ellie to find her own worth, not to let my love determine that for her. She’d never be truly happy that way. I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration.

You can’t fix me, you know, she’d said. No, I’d thought, I can only love you. And I’d been right. All I could do was love her.