Page 112 of Dirty Pool

Out of all the things Michel learned about love since finding Gabbie, that was the one thing he was most sure of. Love came when one was not expecting it because one could not plan for love. That wasn’t how it worked. Love was not meant to be a thing you went out and found for yourself, because it was the thing that found you.

John eyed Michel from the side. “As long as it was worth it, man.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Michel watched Gabbie in the rental. She toyed with a phone that rested in her lap, and then leaned over to fiddle with the radio station. She let her fingers drift through her hair to smooth back the wild, red curls he loved so much.

It was simple—even mundane—things for her to do, and nothing particularly special. He’d seen hundreds, if not thousands, of people do the same things throughout his life. Yet, watching her do those same things were not the same to him at all.

It was an experience.

It was her.

He could watch her do mundane, everyday things for the rest of their life, and he would never get bored with it. He wanted nothing more than to be the person watching her do those simple things, and apparently, she wanted the same things, too.

Like his wife knew he was looking at her, Gabbie turned in the seat to look out the window. Her green eyes met his, and a smile bloomed over her cheeks. It reached her eyes, and lit her whole face up.

She smiled for him all the time.

She smiled because of him.

What more could he want?

“More than worth it, John,” Michel murmured.

“I’ll take your word for it, man.”

He could.

For now.

Someday, John would know, too.

• • •

“I … should call him.”

Michel glanced over at his wife, but Gabbie was still staring at the phone in her lap. His cell phone, actually. She’d taken it from him at the City Clerk’s office to hold onto it while he signed some paperwork, but he didn’t think to ask for it back.

“Who?” he asked.

Gabbie’s tongue peeked out to wet her bottom lip. “My da.”

He’d be a fucking liar if he said he didn’t react to that statement by stiffening in the driver’s seat. Even his fingers flexed around the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white from the pressure. It wasn’t even Gabbie, or the fact that she wanted to speak with her father, but more …

The threat.

He felt the threat, and recognized it for what it was. Because that’s how he saw her father, now. Just one big fucking threat. To him, and to her. He wasn’t so stupid that he believed he had removed all the threats from their life, of course, but that was a big one he’d left behind.

What else could he do?

Michel wouldn’t have ever touched her father—and he wouldn’t now unless Charles Casey thought to do something that threatened Gabbie—because she didn’t want him to. She adored her father; she loved him entirely because for a long time, Charles was all she had. He didn’t think for one second that she would forgive him for something like that.

“Just to let him know,” Gabbie said, glancing up at him.

Michel raised a brow. “So, then do that.”

“But—”

“Babe, if you want to call him, then you should do that.”