The irritation bloomed into anger. “Is that what you think? I was messaging you because I should?”
Gabe didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “Why else?”
“Why else?” I took a step toward him. “Because, oh, I don’t know, you’re my boyfriend.”
A sharp flicker of pain flared in his eyes, and he looked down at the floor. “No, Chloe. I’m not your boyfriend anymore.”
I took another step. “Why?”
“Why?” His eyes met mine in surprise—the first real emotion I’d seen since I’d come in.
“Yes. Why are we no longer boyfriend and girlfriend? Please explain it to me because I’d like to know.”
Gabe’s lip curled like he’d tasted something bitter. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“No.”
“Good. Why, Gabe?”
Slowly, very slowly, Gabe eased himself up off the stool. It was probably the first time I’d seen him move that way. Everything about him was usually quick and efficient. Now it was like he’d aged half a century in a few weeks.
Turning his back to me he crouched down and started turning off equipment and removing leads.
“Gabriel da Silva! Answer me!” I hadn’t meant to use my big-sister voice on him, but I hated being ignored.
“It’s Gabriel Sloane.” His reply was so quiet I almost missed it.
“Yes, let’s talk about that, shall we?” Wow, now I was sounding like my mother and I didn’t like it at all, but couldn’t help myself. “Gabriel Sloane. Nice to meet you. Would you mind looking at me when I’m talking to you?”
Gabe eased up again and I thought I saw his lips twitch. Oh well, finding me funny was better than ignoring me.
He crossed his arms and looked at me, waiting for me to speak again.
“Gabe, I don’t remember breaking up, do you?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I figured it was kind of obvious.”
“Obvious? Um, no. Not to me. Why would you think that?”
He closed his eyes like he was in need of patience. Despite the state of him—Damon was right, he did smell—he was still Gabe, my Gabe. Whoever that was.
Without thinking about what I was doing I closed the distance between us and laid my hand on his cheek. His eyes flew open and he caught my wrist in his hand.
“What are you doing?” His face looked ready to cave in with emotion, but he swallowed and maintained his composure.
“What am I doing? I miss my boyfriend.”
“Dammit, Chloe!” He pushed my hand away and stepped back. “Stop saying that!”
“Why?”
“Why? Why?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Because I’m not your boyfriend, OK? That guy doesn’t even exist. He never existed!”
“Bullshit!” I was yelling now. “That’s complete bullshit and you know it, Gabriel da Silva.” At his look of disgust, I shoved his shoulder. “Or Sloane, or whoever you are. I don’t care! OK? I don’t care! I miss you and the only way we’re going to sort this out is if you treat me like I’m your girlfriend and we talk through this.”
He dropped his hands to his side. “There’s nothing to talk through. There’s no way back from this. I lied to you, to everyone. I’m not who you thought I was.”
“Oh, really? So when you made love to me that was all an act, too?”
Those two lines appeared between his eyebrows, the ones I always wanted to reach over and smooth. “No, of course not.”
“Or when you made me come in the restaurant? That wasn’t you either?”
“Stop it,” he whispered.
“Or the sweet guy who thought I’d want to sing a song at my twenty-first birthday party that I used to sing with my dad. That wasn’t you either?”
“Stop it! Just stop it, OK?”
“No, I will not, because the guy I fell in love with asked me never to give up on him.”
Gabe put his head in his hands, burying his fingers in his hair. “That was before. Before I . . . ” He closed his eyes again.
“Before you gave up on me.”
“What? No!”
“Well, it sure as hell looks like it from where I’m standing.”
He put his hands on his waist and looked out the window of the studio like he was searching for something. “Chloe, you’re better off without me. Trust me. Frankly I can’t even believe you’re here after what’s been written about me in the media.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Gabe’s gaze locked onto mine. “What?”
“I said I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been following the news.”
“But then . . . ”
“Then I don’t know anything about this Gabriel Sloane guy. Nothing.”
That seemed to floor him. “Why?”
“You’re seriously asking me why I don’t read the papers? Have you read what’s been written about me lately? Apparently I’m the evil spawn of Satan sent down to break up one of the most famous rock bands in the world and the majority of your fans want me to burn in hell. I stopped reading after that.”
Gabe’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “So you don’t know who I was before?”
“Nope. That’s why I wanted to talk. I was kind of hoping you might be able to help me out with that.”
Gabe eased himself onto the stool again and sat staring at the floor for a long moment. “I’m not sure I can do that,” he said eventually.
“Any reason?” I replied lightly.
He released a tight breath. “Because I don’t like to talk about it.”
Sympathy swelled in my chest for the boy Gabe had once been. Whatever he had done pained him so much he didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps he couldn’t talk about it. But he’d have to if we wanted to resolve this. “Gabe, I appreciate that, but I love you. That includes all of you, and I have a right to know who that part of you is—or was.”
“But I’ll lose you.” His eyes glittered with tears.
I wanted to rush to him then, throw myself into his arms and never let go. Instead, I smoothed my palms against my jeans. I’ll lose you meant that he still held some hope for us. I held the same hope, but I needed to know who he was, who he really was, before I decided.
“You won’t know if you don’t tell me.”
Gabe squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them they appeared clearer. He got up from the stool and grabbed a pen and paper lying by one of the guitars. He scrawled something on it, then ripped the strip of paper off and handed it to me.
“You need to speak to my foster mom. In person, if you can. I’ll let her know you’re coming. If you still want to talk to me after that, I’ll be waiting.”
I looked at the paper in my hand. Dina Thompson. There was an address in Minneapolis and a phone number.
I slipped the piece of paper into my pocket and stepped forward, taking Gabe’s face in my hands. The beard tickled my fingers and I ignored the stale scent of him that suggested he hadn’t showered in days. Somewhere in there was the Gabe I knew.
I pressed my lips to his and I felt him relax into me, like I was all that was keeping him standing up. His hands dropped to my waist and hovered around my hips, like he was scared to touch me.
When I stepped back his eyes flickered open as if he’d been having a really good dream.
“I’ll be in touch,” I promised him. “I’m looking forward to hearing those new songs.”
Chapter 45
Dina Thompson’s house was in a rough part of town. Not that I knew Minneapolis at all, but Viktor had done his homework and informed me of this fact. He’d also informed me we were likely to get shot or come across a gang or drug dealer and we’d be visiting there over his dead body.
We were still very much alive when we pulled up in front of Dina’s house. The long flight and navigating a strange city had done nothing to improve his already foul mood. He instructed me to wait for him to open my door but I ignored him. I was already on the
front porch knocking on the door by the time he joined me. I figured the best way to attract attention in a bad neighborhood was to look like you were a famous movie star with a bodyguard, and I wasn’t going to do that.
The neighborhood didn’t look that bad from first impressions. Phillips was located downtown from the city center. We’d driven through a more industrial area on our way here and passed by signs that indicated a nearby hospital. The houses in Dina’s street were modest but pleasant, even charming. Many of them were two-level weatherboard cottages with front porches. I was glad I’d listened to my instincts and dressed in jeans, a casual T-shirt and a baseball cap.
A middle-aged African-American woman came to the door after I knocked. Without saying a word, she ushered us in. She gave Viktor a long look and they regarded each other with silent wariness. She led me to a small sitting area off the hall and indicated for me to sit down, then turned to Viktor with her hands on her hips.
“You go into the kitchen and make yourself useful. It’s small enough so you’ll be able to find everything you’ll need. I like my coffee strong and black.”
Viktor blinked.
Dina waved him away. “Well, off ya go! What I’ve got to say isn’t for some big-ass bodyguard’s ears.”
I hid a smile and watched Viktor skulk off. Evidently he’d determined I was safe in Dina’s presence and she’d been smart enough to figure out who he was.
“Well, would ya look at you?” The woman’s hands were still on her generous hips. She was by no means overweight, more sturdy and strong, with the sort of body that suggested it was built to last. “Miz Chloe Kemp. Take that cap off, why don’t you?”
I did as she instructed, letting my curls escape.
“Mmm hmm. Mister Gabe’s gone and done real good, real good. That is until his past came back to remind him of those years he’d sooner forget.” She had big brown eyes and they flashed with the sort of protective pride that I recognized from my own mama.
“Thank you for allowing me to visit.”
Dina threw her head back and laughed, a big, hearty laugh. “You think I’d turn down the opportunity to meet Miz Chloe Kemp? Wait ’til I tell the girls at the hospital ’bout this.”
“Is that the hospital we passed on our way?” I asked with interest and some relief at the confirmation that Gabe hadn’t lied about everything.
“Mmmhmm. Been a nurse there going on thirty years.”
Given she barely looked forty, she was doing well for her age. I realized I liked this woman with her big laugh and straightforward ways.
“So how much did Gabe tell you?” she asked me.
“Almost nothing.” I didn’t see any point in lying. “He referred to you as his mom and said you were a nurse, but that’s about it. Oh, and that you were the best part of his childhood.”
Dina tut tutted and shook her head although her eyes glistened with emotion. “Oh, he did, did he? Gonna clip his ear when I see him next.”
“Do you see him often?”
“Hardly ever now he’s a big-ass rock star, but the sweet boy sends me flowers every birthday and Christmas. He never forgets me.” The pride returned to her voice.
I smiled tentatively. That sounded more like the Gabe I knew.
“He didn’t tell you why he did time?”
I shook my head, suddenly feeling out of my depth. What was I doing here in this stranger’s home discussing my boyfriend—if he was even that anymore—when he should be telling me these things himself? “I’ve refused to read any of the news stories about him and when I asked him about his past, he wanted me to speak to you.”
Dina tutted again and leaned across and patted my leg. “Honey, it ain’t you. Trust me. Sometimes some things are too hard to revisit no matter how long ago they happened. So let me start at the beginning.”
She settled on the floral sofa opposite me. “Gabriel Sloane was thirteen when he came to me already broken. His mama was a drug addict and there was no record of a father, so from three years of age he became a foster kid. Now, sweetie, let me tell you, being a foster kid is hard and not just because you feel like an outsider. Not all carers are like me, with a strong sense of right and wrong. Some carers already have children who resent the foster kids or sometimes there’s a house full of foster kiddies all with their own challenges. I was only ever able to take one at a time.”
She paused when Viktor came in holding our drinks and I almost laughed. Domestic duties were not usually in his job description. He also appeared distinctly out of place in the tiny living area filled with feminine touches like lace curtains and pink throw rugs.
When he’d excused himself, Dina sat watching me over her coffee as if measuring me up. “Girl, you ain’t seen much hardship in your life now have you?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.” I had no idea where the ma’am came from but it felt appropriate.
“S’alright. Some of us born luckier than others. It’s what we do with what we got that counts and you already done a damn lot. Anyway, by the time Gabe arrived here, he’d seen too much. In those ten years he’d been through five foster homes.”
I choked on my tea and she nodded sadly.
“Uh huh. Five, poor boy. Through no fault of his own. But that’s what it’s like for some of those kids. Lives so transient they can feel like they’re at the baggage claim of an airport just waiting for any old person to pick them up. It was the last family that done the most damage. The other kids in the family were involved in a gang and Gabe got pulled in too. Started stealing, doing drugs and Lord knows what else just to fit in.”
“He’s good at fitting in.”
“That he is. Unfortunately too good. When a bunch of them got caught, the father beat them all senseless. Nothing like a good beating to break a child’s spirit when he’s already got none. By the time he came here, medically speaking I’d say he was depressed, anxious and near suicidal. Loneliness and an absence of love was my diagnosis.”
Dina smiled fondly as if remembering. “For two whole years that boy was here. After ’bout twelve months he began to trust me. Eighteen months he was a different kid. I bought him a guitar and he just near blossomed, you know? Music heals the soul and his soul needed a lot of healing. Could never do right at school with his studies, but music was a language that made sense to him.”
“I thought he learned drums first?”
“That came later. Guitar was always his first love, but shy about it he was. He was so good at it, too, not that he’d ever believe me. Didn’t matter. Hearing that boy play, I knew he’d be alright, and I secretly hoped one day he’d have the confidence to do something with it.”
The smile faded and she took a sip of her coffee, like she was steeling herself for something. “You don’t know how many times I wished it wasn’t so, but at the end of the second year, my mama fell ill and I had to move out of state to nurse her. Cancer. Damn ugly illness. Anyway, I couldn’t keep Gabe. That was just the way it was and he was forced to leave me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Damn near broke my heart, if I’m being honest. I love all my foster kids, but Gabe . . . well, Gabe was special. He has such a kind heart. In little moments he’d prove that to me. Making my coffee in the morning before school. I mean, what teenage boy on God’s green earth would ever do that? But Gabe did. Cooked me dinners too. I’m of the belief that that sweet boy is part angel, but he’d never own it. He started helping other kids, too. When they tried to get him involved in the gangs or drugs round here—I’m ashamed to say there’s a few of them—Gabe got them to play music. Pretty sure that’s when they stole the drum kit, but I just acted like I knew nothing ’bout that when it turned up in my garage. Ol’ man Coombes had one like that in his garage and his dementia was so bad he’d never even know it was gone. Probably would have given it to him if they asked. Anyhow, I lost him round the time he was fifteen.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
“For a time, but he changed, did my boy.
Changed real bad. He was sent back to that house I mentioned before with the drugs and gangs and father who beat up on them. Bastard of a father was good at hiding his behavior, saying it was the boys beating up on each other. And no one gonna believe a bunch of damaged boys over an upstanding citizen like this man made out he was. Now, I couldn’t prove anything, but I’m sure the older they got the more beat up on they were. That’s what finally broke Gabe.”
She set her mug of coffee down on a pink coaster. “He stopped writing and I managed to find out through people I knew he was in a bad way. On drugs, probably to distract from those beatings. Next thing I knew, the boy was in the paper for trying to kill that sonofabitch foster daddy.”
I felt all the color drain from my face. It was lucky I wasn’t holding the coffee and it was sitting safely on the table.
“You heard right, Miz Chloe Kemp. Your poor boy almost killed a man. Almost. Pretty sure no one woulda been sorry if he had, either.”
The memory of Gabe standing over Levi and hammering him with this fists flashed into my mind and I jumped up.
“I’m sorry. Do you have a bathroom I can use?”
I was going to be sick.
Chapter 46
It took me ten full minutes and heaving up the breakfast I’d consumed on the flight for me to compose myself. By the time I returned to Dina’s lounge room I felt weak, but the worst of the nausea was gone.
Dina stood when I entered. “Now, child, sit. You didn’t let me finish. Appreciate what I just told you was a shock, but you don’t honestly think Gabe could kill a man unprovoked now, do you?”
I lowered myself into the armchair, grateful to be seated again. “Honestly, Ms. Thompson, I don’t know what to think anymore.” Unprovoked or provoked—did it make a difference?
“Dina, child. None of this Miz or ma’am nonsense. Gabe was protecting someone. That’s why he did what he did.”
My stomach was still churning and I didn’t bother to hide the tears pooling in my eyes. Gabe had been trying to protect me too when he beat up Levi, but did that make it right? I felt disloyal even thinking it.
Heartbeat (Hollywood Hearts, #3) Page 26
