Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(110)

Jane looked confused. “She’s in jail.”

Gabe stared at her. “Jail?”

Jane touched his arm, her expression mirroring her concern. “I don’t understand. Cal told me how Rachel vandalized the drive-in, and that you had her put in jail.”

Seconds ticked by, then Gabe and Jane both turned to him, the motion so synchronized they might have been attached at the head.

He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t actually say that it was Gabe, sweetheart. You just assumed . . .”


She was getting her squinty-eyed look, and he quickly turned to Gabe, keeping his voice calm and comforting as he spoke. “Rachel’s the one who destroyed the drive-in, Gabe. I’m sorry. We found the money from the register, along with some other things, hidden in the Escort. I knew you’d want Odell to press charges, so I did it for you.”

Gabe’s voice sounded as if it had been dragged over sandpaper. “You had Rachel thrown in jail?”

Cal pointed out the truth as gently as he could. “She broke the law.”

The next thing he knew, he was flying across the foyer. As the back of his leg hit the rim of the Las Vegas fountain, he lost his balance and fell, ass-first, into the water.

Gabe watched the water splash over the edge of the fountain while he tried to suck enough air into his chest to breathe. Once he could do that, he was going to kill his brother.

Cal struggled to sit upright, his robe swimming around him. “She trashed your drive-in! She belongs in jail!” Gabe erupted and shot toward the fountain, but before he could get there, Jane threw herself between them. “Stop it! This doesn’t help Rachel.”

“Help Rachel, my ass!” Cal exclaimed, wiping the water from his eyes. “Gabe’s the one who needs help!”

Gabe shot around Jane and reached down to grab his brother by the collar of his robe. “It’s my drive-in, you son of a bitch, not yours! And you didn’t have any right!” He shoved him back into the water.

God . . . He’d broken out in a sweat. Rachel was in jail, and that might be Cal’s fault, but it was his fault, too, because he’d run. At the time, all he could think about was getting away. He’d been too much of a coward to stay right there and deal with what had happened.

He had to get to her, and he spun toward the door only to freeze in his tracks at the sound of a small, familiar voice coming from the top of the stairs.

“Gabe?”

He looked up and saw Chip standing there in his Macho Man T-shirt and little white cotton briefs. A rooster tail of light-brown hair stuck up from the back of his head, and silvery tear streaks glistened on his cheeks.

“Gabe?” he whispered. “Where’s my mommy? ”

Gabe felt as if his heart were cracking open, but this time it didn’t spill bile. This time it spilled fresh red blood, full of life and need and love. He took the stairs two at a time and swept the child up in his arms. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m going to get her right now.”

Brown eyes stared into his own. “I want my mommy.”

“I know you do, son. I know.”

He felt Chip trembling beneath his palms and knew he’d started to cry. To protect his privacy, he carried him into the guest room. There wasn’t a comfortable chair, so he sat on the side of the bed and cradled him in his lap.

The little boy’s tears were mostly silent ones. Gabe held him against his chest and stroked his hair. As much as he needed to get to Rachel, he had to take care of this first.

“Something bad’s happened to my mommy, hasn’t it?”

“There’s been a misunderstanding, a big mix-up. Your mom’s safe, but I think she might be scared, and I have to go get her.”

“I’m scared, too.”

“I know you are, son, but I’m going to bring your mom back to you real soon.”

“Is she going to die?”

Gabe pressed his lips to the top of the child’s head. “No, she’s not going to die. She’s going to be fine. Just scared, is all. And probably mad, too. Your mom can get real mad.”

Chip nestled closer, and Gabe stroked the curve of his arm. It felt so good he wanted to cry himself.

“Why was Rosie’s dad sitting in the fountain?”

“He . . . uh . . . slipped.”

“Gabe?”

“Yes?”

The child’s soft deep breath was a whisper in the night-quiet room. “I forgive you.”

Tears stung Gabe’s eyes. Chip had offered his forgiveness much too easily. The child wanted stability so badly he’d do anything to get it, even put aside the wrong Gabe had done to him.

“You don’t have to. What I did was pretty bad. Maybe you need to think about it some more.”

“Okay.”

Gabe took the child’s hand in his own and stroked the palm with his thumb.

The solid weight of the boy’s head sank against his chest. “I thought about it,” he whispered. “And I forgive you.”

Gabe kissed his hair again, blinked, then eased back just far enough to gaze down into Chip’s small face. “I have to go find your mom now. I know you’re going to be scared until she gets back, so why don’t we sneak into Rosie’s room with some blankets and make a bed for you on the floor next to her crib. Would that make you feel better?”