by Nicole Helm
She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she was ready to answer that question. She certainly wasn’t anywhere near ready to ask it. So she focused on the other questions.
“What’s your second question for me?”
“Second?” He narrowed his eyes. “That was not my question, cheater.”
She shrugged in that same negligent way he always did. “It was a question. I answered it.”
He scowled at her, and she wanted to press a kiss to it. Press herself to him. She wanted to forget questions and realities and the future. For the first time maybe in her whole life, she wanted to dwell in a moment, relish it, and not worry about what was next.
But he asked his question.
“Cats or dogs?”
She huffed. “That is not your question.”
“Oh, but it is. A very serious, important question that will tell me all I need to know about you.”
She rolled her eyes. Well, if he didn’t want to take it seriously, that was fine. She still would, and she’d answer his questions with complete and utter honesty. “Dogs. Cats creep me out.”
He laughed way harder at that than he should have.
“What’s so funny about that? Cats are creepy. You never hear them coming, and they have those eyes that glow and just…stare.”
When he finally stopped laughing, he grinned, twirling a piece of hair around his finger. “That’s just exactly what I told Bec when she informed me I was living under the same roof as a cat. Not that I’ve ever seen said cat, thank God.”
“Oh God. Becca’s cat?” She shuddered for dramatic effect. “It has these weird, yellow eyes that glow, and I swear, with enough plotting, it could eat your heart out before you even woke up.”
“You’ve seen the fabled Hannibal?”
Monica nodded. “On the day of the wedding, we helped Becca get all the dresses out of her closet upstairs, and there he was. Glowing, creepy cat eyes ready to like…pounce and eat my soul.”
“But is it creepier than the goat?”
Monica fisted a hand to her heart. “How dare you insult Ron Swanson?”
“I’m deeply, deeply sorry for such an affront.”
Then they were both laughing, wrapped up in each other and a million blankets, warm in this little world they’d built while outside it was frigidly cold.
She wanted this. Camaraderie. A relationship. All those things she’d had with Dex. This was different. Gabe was different—she was different. But she wanted that experience again. Someone in her life. A partner. Since Dex’s death, no one else had even come close to making her want that.
Of course, the man who did… She wanted to laugh for a completely different reason. He wouldn’t agree to it in a million years.
But why was that? He didn’t want to settle down or build what his friends had, but why? Was it as simple as not wanting something, or did it go deeper, into all the ways he’d been hurt growing up?
Well, maybe that’d be her question for tomorrow.
He dropped a casual kiss to her temple. “I need coffee,” he said on a yawn. He unraveled himself from her and the blankets, and got out of bed, cursing as he walked to the kitchen, presumably at the cold.
She watched him in her kitchen, gathering the things he’d need, then fiddling with the coffeepot. As if he belonged there, doing little things for her—for them. She wanted him to belong there.
“We’re going to have to make an effort to get out of here today,” he stated casually.
It hurt, of course, that after everything, he’d still be eager to get out of here. But beneath the hurt was also a panic.
She didn’t want to lose this. A man in her kitchen making her coffee in the morning. A man who held her when she cried over feeling like a failure to her son. A man who relaxed when she traced his jaw.
Every second of being with him only reinforced what she wanted. What she was starting to think she needed—a partnership, this partnership. She liked it. It made her feel good, and it didn’t stop things from hurting. In fact, some things hurt worse.
But then he held her. Kissed her or made her coffee and… There had to be some way…some way. She just had to figure out how to get through to him.
“Why today?” she asked, attempting to sound as casual as he had.
“We’ll run out of firewood if we’re not careful. Who knows when the power will come back, and I don’t particularly want to freeze to death. Seems like a nasty way to go.”
“Well, there are a few piles of wood in the back. They’re just under approximately eighty gajillion feet of snow.”
“Eighty gajillion is the scientific term. I don’t know how much good it’ll do if it’s wet, but we can give it a shot. All else fails, if we can manage a path to the Shaws’ we can see if they have any extra wood or if they have power.”
Monica scooted beneath the blanket, trying to hide the wide grin splitting her face. He wasn’t trying to escape. He just wanted wood. It was a good sign. A positive sign that if she found the right combination of words, she could convince him that they could find a way to work things out.
Telling him she had fallen in love with him was certainly not the right tack to take, but if they had time, if he wasn’t running away, she could find the right path, the right words.
She could find them a chance.
Chapter 21
Gabe frowned at the white, fluffy hat Monica handed him.
“I’m not wearing that. I have a hood. And I’m a man.”
“A hood is not nearly as good at keeping your head warm as a hat. Now, if you want to put your hood over the hat because your precious manliness cannot handle a simple, white stocking cap.”
“It has a…thingamajiggie on the top,” he replied, pointing to the ball-shaped tassel.
“It’s just one little pom,” she said, jiggling it as if that would make it somehow less offensive.
“I was a Navy SEAL, Monica. Current or former SEALs do not wear pom-fucking-poms.”
“Who are you afraid is going to see you? The great god of masculinity?”
“I’m not wearing a hat with a pom on it. That’s final. The much bigger issue at hand is we don’t have a shovel.” He picked up the pots they’d gathered. It was the best option they’d been able to find for snow relocation.
“There’s a utility shed out back that might have some, but with the back door iced shut, we’d have trouble getting to it.”
“Have to get to the wood anyway. Might as well try.” Gabe opened the door and braced himself against the icy wind and blinding whiteness of it all.
Once his eyes adjusted, he could notice the sky above was almost as blindingly blue as the world below was blindingly white. But that was good. Sun shining might cause retinal damage, but it would also help melt some of the snow.
“I don’t suppose you have any sunglasses I wouldn’t be ashamed to wear?”
“How do you feel about purple?”
“I can pull off a purple as long as they don’t have sparkles.”
She rolled her eyes and went back inside, rummaging around in the kitchen for a few seconds. Gabe nudged the snow in front of him. Quite the mixture of hardpack and fine, blow away.
Monica returned to the doorway and handed him a pair of black sunglasses with a smirk. “Do I really strike you as the purple sunglasses type?”
“A few days ago, I would have said no, but I’ve seen your Christmas sheets. Now, nothing about you would surprise me.”
They both stepped forward, Monica trying to lever herself up into the snowbank. She sank to about waist deep. He tried to stifle a laugh, but she looked a little too ridiculous.
“I can handle this. You stay inside.”
She shook her head and began pushing through the snow with her gloved hands. “I might as well help. I don’t want to freeze for lack of firewood a
ny more than you do.”
“Too bad we didn’t have electricity for your hair dryer idea.”
“If we had electricity, we could stay happily inside for the foreseeable future. Now hand me a pot.”
He handed her one of the pots without saying anything. There was nothing to say when that scenario would be a little too much of a fantasy he shouldn’t have.
Staying in the fictional world of snowed-in cabins and just him and her. Which was a fantasy she wouldn’t share because she missed her kid.
Somehow thinking about Colin in terms of this fantasy made it worse. He wouldn’t mind if the kid were here. Sure, it would cut back on the sex considerably, but he liked having Colin underfoot. He liked being with Monica. Put the two together and…
He wished he were Alex or Jack, wished he had that kind of certainty in right things and building. To them, the situation would be a no-brainer: build a foundation, forge a relationship and a future. He didn’t know how to be the kind of strong that just built whole worlds.
Alex had built Revival with Becca at his side. And she’d built plenty of Revival herself, with the therapeutic horsemanship. Jack had built a new life after his old one had imploded. He was building something so that Rose could trust it.
Gabe had to uncomfortably consider Rose for a second. The fact she’d had an even worse childhood than he had, and yet slowly, she was coming to accept Jack’s strength, a future with him, and a kid.
Gabe couldn’t allow himself to fall into the foolish trap of thinking he could do what other people did. After he’d set that fire at his mother’s wedding, he’d spent years trying to atone for it, trying to turn himself into something Evan would accept or at least would pretend didn’t exist.
He’d gotten excellent grades and never gotten in trouble at school, no matter how much he’d wanted to sometimes. He’d tutored Evan’s two kids from his previous marriage, Jenna and Zack. He’d sat with them and the three kids his mother had had with Evan later, through nightmares and illness. He’d been the best older brother to them he’d known how. He’d done everything he thought of to earn himself a place in Evan’s house.
The harder he’d tried, the more Mom had withdrawn. The harder he’d tried, the more Evan said he was the bad seed making everything problematic at home.
And then Jenna…
Gabe didn’t want to think about it. Not even in a fantasy world, where Monica could understand and believe him. It didn’t matter if she’d believe him when no one else had. She might believe him, but it would plant a seed of doubt, and those doubts always sprouted. Evan made sure of it.
Gabe shook his head, trying to physically eradicate the old thoughts, the old fears. Monica would need someone more whole, more sure of himself. The kind of man she could inherently trust to be around Colin. The kind of man who didn’t have any sort of blights on his past. A man not connected to her job who might undermine how she looked to her patients.
He needed to get that through his own head. Imprint it on his soul, so he’d stop having these moments of hope. There was no hope for him.
“Gabe?”
He looked up and realized he’d been standing in the same position while she’d scooped and pushed her way through the drifts all the way to the corner of the cabin.
“Coming,” he muttered, following the makeshift path her small body had cut through the snow.
“Where exactly did you disappear to?”
He could’ve pretended like he didn’t understand what she meant, but he didn’t feel like being kind right now. Kindness had gotten him into this mess. A soft heart and a stupid brain dropping his guard enough to entertain these feelings.
He snorted as he made his way to her. When the hell had he gotten stupid enough to allow himself feelings? Feelings he could never, ever allow himself to articulate.
It would be a beginning, and then it would be an end. Ends always came, no matter how hard you worked, and he couldn’t let an ending risk his sticking with Revival.
Jenna and Evan had made sure he couldn’t stay with his mother, but in the wake of all that, he hadn’t wanted to remain. He hadn’t wanted to watch them all turn on him. Better to leave. Better to not try and soldier through.
He couldn’t leave Revival, which meant he could not allow himself to think there was any future with Monica. All futures ended. Whether in threats or in fire, all plans blew up in his face.
“You already had your question for the day,” he muttered, harsh and mean, as he approached. He made himself watch the hurt chase over her face. Life was hurt, and life was pain. Better to give it to her now than pretend there could ever be anything different between them.
“With this weather, the snow should start melting. I should be able to get out of here soon, maybe even today.”
She was silent at that, and they moved slowly through the huge drifts of snow to the back of the house. There was indeed a shed in the back, and they worked in utter silence to clear the snow around it so they could get to the door.
“Even if you could drive out of here today, it wouldn’t mean you have to,” she said quietly. He stared at her in horror for a few humming seconds, sick to his stomach at the sheer amount of hope on her face.
She wanted him to stick around. As though she felt the same thing. Cared about him and fantasized about a future between them.
She hadn’t had anyone in her life for ten years. Maybe…maybe he was actually special to her. Maybe he was supposed to be here, and maybe they were supposed to…
Hell, when would he ever learn? He’d had the same thoughts once upon a time. He’d made it through BUD/S training, become friends with Alex. He’d motivated people and saved lives, and he’d started to believe his shitty adolescence had been worth something. Like he’d gone through all that to be there, helping people.
He’d allowed that feeling to grow and grow until the Navy SEALs was his entire life. Until all that mattered was the next mission. They suffered losses, and still he’d believed that he was exactly what and where he was supposed to be.
Then Geiger had thrown himself on that grenade and saved the rest of them. Geiger had been dead and the rest of them couldn’t be Navy SEALs anymore. And for what? What had been accomplished? What had he ever done to make Geiger’s sacrifice worth it?
He hadn’t belonged in Evan’s house. He hadn’t belonged in the SEALs. Gabe Cortez was a man who didn’t belong anywhere.
He couldn’t ever let Monica turn him into the kind of man who believed again, because men who believed only ended up blown up and alone.
“No matter what, I’m not staying past tonight.” And with that, he managed to jerk the shed door open. Then he pointed. “Look. Shovels.”
* * *
Monica hadn’t said anything to his proclamation of leaving. She’d worked with him to clear some paths around the house, to dig out the firewood and take it inside to dry out. They’d dug out paths to their trucks, and they didn’t speak.
He never even tried to, and she was just…numb. Confused. Silent because she had no words to fight the kind of broken finality his words conveyed.
She’d find some of her own words. She just needed time. Too bad time was running out.
No. That was silly. Even if he went back to Revival tonight, that didn’t mean she’d lose her chance forever. There would be time. In fact, time might be best. Something had clicked in Gabe. A kind of fear. A fear she didn’t understand, but it had to stem from the tragedies he’d faced.
She’d known men with worse backgrounds, that was for sure, but it was different when it was someone you loved.
She sighed heavily, working on fixing a very piecemeal dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and canned fruit.
Gabe crouched by the fire, moving logs this way and that with a poker. Something had changed in him this afternoon. There’d been flashes of it here and there
since this whole thing started, but it was sharper, harsher tonight. It wasn’t just considering silence, or even that weird silence from yesterday. This had a darkness to it, a heaviness.
She hated this feeling of premature despair. That it was all over before she’d even had the courage to try to start it.
She frowned harder at his back. She had never let someone tell her she couldn’t, and why would this be any different? No, she couldn’t make miracles happen and erase his past or magically heal all his scars, but she could get through to him if she tried. Love was powerful that way, and if he didn’t love her back…that didn’t mean her love couldn’t be powerful.
That’s what he hadn’t had growing up, so it made sense he might not believe it existed, might not want to trust it. She’d just have to prove it did and that he could.
Talking healed. The entire basis of her professional career. Talking could heal.
Her stomach turned. She was much better at listening, at guiding. She’d grown up in a household that held itself together no matter the cost.
Things had eased once her father had started seeking help for his PTSD, but by then she’d been twenty. It was too late to undo all the stoic, military acceptance her mother and father had impressed upon her.
“It’s never too late,” she muttered to herself. She’d raised Colin differently, and her family was different now. And most of all, she was different. She’d dreaded this week alone, but it had turned into an awakening.
She didn’t want to do this on her own anymore. She could, and if she had to, she would, but she didn’t want to. She wanted a partner.
She wanted Gabe.
Now, she just had to find the courage to tell him, and the right approach to convince him. She squared her shoulders. Her childhood might have made expressing emotions hard, but it had also taught her the value of hard work, and the importance of not giving up when the going got tough.
But as she marched a plate over to Gabe’s crouched form, a million words jostling for space in her brain, a knock sounded at the door.
Blinking, Monica turned to stare at it.
