Page 111 of Grim Tidings

Her eyes soften. “Gabriel,” she whispers. “Stop trying to take care of me.”

I feel it again. That tug deep in my chest. A hook under my ribs, dragging me right toward her.

“How about you let me take care of you, huh?” My voice is brittle. A crack right down the middle. I hate that I sound like I’m begging, but there’s nothing to be done for it. I’d get on my knees if I thought it made a lick of difference. “Please,” I add.

Darcy’s eyes search mine. I let her look, hoping she finds what she needs to shake off whatever this damn fog is.

“I can do that,” she finally says, but she sounds less sure than I’d like.

“Good.” I add another cherry to her drink, just because I can. “Thank you.”

By the time I close out the bar and shove the last reluctant customer out the door, the moon is high in the sky and the streets are empty. I make sure the man swaying down the street tips himself into a cab, and then I swing the door shut, flicking the lock. When I turn, Darcy is slipping on her black wool coat, tying the belt around her waist.

“Where are you going?”

She looks up, surprised. “Home,” she answers simply, like she hasn’t spent the past three nights in my bed, wrapped in my sheets, her cheek on my chest and her hair draped over my arm.

I close the space between us and grab her bag before she can, setting it just out of reach.

“Why?”

Darcy brushes her fingertips across her forehead. “Gabriel,” she sighs.

I shake my head. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Polite,” I spit. “Like I’m a stranger to you. Like you’re already putting distance between us.”

Her eyes dart to the floor, and I grip her chin, forcing her attention right back to me. “And look at me. Not at the floor. Not out the damn window.” I fan my fingers along her cheekbone and slip my thumb over the curve of her chin. “Look right at me.”

Her eyes crawl to mine. My knees almost buckle under the weight of her stare. There are entire lifetimes of sadness there. I was afraid she was putting distance between us on purpose, but it’s worse than that.

She’s already halfway gone.

“What happened?” I whisper. Things weren’t perfect, but they had been good. “Where did you go?”

She shakes her head, her hand rising to curl around mine. I think she means to lean into my touch, but she pulls away instead.

My stomach drops.

“We need to be realistic, Gabriel. We knew we were on borrowed time.”

She leans past me to grab for her bag and slings it over her shoulder. I slip my hand under the strap and yank her to me, then lift it off of her. I toss the bag over the bar.

“Yeah. And you promised me the time you had left.”

Her mouth settles into a line. “I gave you what I had left. This is it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I need to go now.”

“The nonchalant attitude isn’t going to work on me, sweetheart. If you want to leave, that’s fine. But you’re going to tell me the truth.”

I want to know how she went from laughing in my arms to barely looking me in the eye.

“Gideon will come for me, Gabriel. You know he will. It will be easier for the both of us if we—” Her teeth saw against her bottom lip. “If we start to put space between us now.”

My eyes search hers. “Easier for us? Or for you?”

She looks away without answering the question. Instead, she fixes her jacket, rounds the bar, and grabs her bag from on top of the ice maker. She slides the strap over her shoulder, then holds on to it like a lifeline. “I know you find it hard to believe, Gabriel, but the last person I have ever wanted to hurt is you.”