Page 61 of Dearly Departed

Right now, he’s waiting patiently for me to answer him.

“Yes?”

“I think we should sit down.”

Gabriel puts his hands on my arms and guides me across the living room to the sofa, then settles me on it like I recently celebrated my one hundredth birthday. Then he pushes the coffee table to the side, drags over an ottoman, and sits on it, facing me, our knees touching.

And then, because he is clearly on a mission to take me from wreck to disaster beyond salvaging, Gabriel Hill, the first person I ever fell in love with and the last person who should waste his kindness on me, takes both my hands in his and looks into my face.

It’s terrible. It’s worse than a nightmare. Because this is no passing glance. This is Gabriel Hill at his best—dark-haired, handsome, smudges setting off his green eyes—and I have no doubt he sees everything.

I can’t stand it.

I also don’t have the strength to flee, so I’m stuck there, looking back at him, his hands startlingly warm.

It’s possible my hands have been very, very cold.

After a few beats, he shakes his head a little, concerned creases in his forehead.

“Oh, honeybun. What happened?”

It’s not the first time he’s called me that outside of our teenage love affair.

It is the first time I understand what he’s doing, and what he means.

“You shouldn’t.” My voice is shot to hell. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.” He doesn’t look away, but my eyes fill with tears, blurring him just enough. “And I must.”

“Must you?”

He makes a show of looking around the room. “I don’t see anybody else.”

“If I wanted someone to—to coddle me, I’d⁠—”

“Is that what you think this is? Coddling?”

“You’re holding my hands.”

“You look like shit,” Gabriel sings. “You look, conservatively, a thousand times worse than you did before your wedding.”

“I was⁠—”

“I’m willing to chalk some of it up to whatever the fuck happened on that plane—you can tell me later, it doesn’t have to be right now—but not all of it. I know something’s up. I’ve known it since before you came back for the wedding.”

“How would you have any idea?”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows as if the answer is simple and he thought I knew it already. “I don’t have to be in love with you to love you, you know. I don’t have to be in love with you to know when something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.”

Gabriel nods. I don’t believe you, that nod says. I don’t believe you at all.

“Well, you’re home now. You can sleep as much as you need.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Mean what?”