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“I’ll take care of it, okay. I promise everything will be fine.” Gabe pulls the orange plastic chair closer. His eyes, usually bright with laughter, now hold a solemn depth that matches the seriousness of my situation.
“Ameline,” he says gently, “as I said before, I think it’ll be best if you come stay with me. I have plenty of space, and you’ll have someone to look after you while you’re going through treatments.”
I swallow hard at the thought of those treatments. The shocking news about my father, the daunting health diagnosis, and the uncertainty looming over my beloved studio. It’s as though the ground beneath my feet has shifted, leaving me disoriented.
Even though I hate to need someone else’s help, there’s no way I can do this on my own.
“I think . . . Thank you for your offer. If you think it’s okay to live with you,” I reply, my voice tinged with a mix of hesitation and relief. “I just need some time to sort through all this.”
Gabe’s hand finds mine, a comforting gesture. “You have all the time in the world. There’s no rush, okay?”
Accepting Gabe’s offer doesn’t solve everything, but it provides a starting point, a semblance of stability while I try to get through this chaos.
* * *
We arrive at my studio and my breath catches in my throat. It looks the same as always from the outside, but I know everything has irrevocably changed.
Gabe squeezes my hand reassuringly as we walk up to the front door toward the stairs. When we reach my place, I’m shocked to see Archer already there, along with a team of people carrying boxes and packing supplies.
“Hey, Ameline,” Archer greets me with a smirk. “I knew you were a permanent fixture. Welcome to the family. Now, we’re gonna get you packed up quick, okay?”
I nod numbly, looking around at the organized chaos. My furniture is already shrouded in protective wraps, ready to go into storage. The walls look bare without my art.
I watch as my life is dismantled and boxed away. Every box that’s taped up and labeled feels like another little death.
“It’s just temporary,” Gabe reminds me. “We’ll get you set up in the guest room at my place.”
I want to believe him.
I want to believe this is just a misunderstanding: the man I’ve called Dad for over twenty years loves me. But the look of disgust on his face when I found out I’m not his biological daughter . . . that’s not something I can forget.
Still, as the last box is loaded into the moving truck, I cling to a thin shred of hope. Maybe Dad will come around. After all, for all those years, he loved me like a daughter. That had to have meant something.
Didn’t it?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gabriel
I heave the last box into the back of the moving truck, sweat dripping down my back. Archer slams the tailgate shut and gives me a nod.
“Thanks for the help, man.” Then I add, “I know it’s a lot to ask, keeping this between us.”
He hates keeping things from Piper, but he also knows that she’ll be the first one telling my parents about this. I’m not ready to deal with my family.
Archer shrugs, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Hey, far as I’m concerned, this is just two buddies moving some furniture. What the Deckers don’t know won’t hurt anyone.”
But I can hear the judgment in his voice. There’s something he wants to say. Probably urge me to tell everyone. Get help since this is a little above my own capabilities.
I sigh. “I can’t tell anyone about this. They won’t understand,” I state, defending my actions or maybe convincing myself. “My parents might think I’m losing my mind. I’m moving a stranger to my house. I have to unveil this slowly.”
Archer scoffs. “So many lies. At least be honest with yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say defensively.
“You’re in love with her and that scares the fuck out of you. If you choose to be in denial, that’s your problem, but . . . she’s sick, and you can’t deal with this alone.”
“What am I supposed to do? My family will make a big deal out of the situation,” I say defensively.
