Page 113 of Grim Tidings

“Here’s the thing, Darcy.” I love the way he says my name. Half a promise, half a curse. Something that belongs completely to me. “I get what you were trying to do. I really do. But it’s not going to happen that way.”

My mouth is dry. My throat tight. “I don’t want you anymore.”

It comes out strangled. Like my body is physically rebelling against the lie.

The lines by his eyes crinkle. “Try again,” he whispers.

“I don’t—I don’t want to do this with you anymore.”

“Liar. I’m the only one you want to do this with.”

I shake my head. Gabriel’s smile turns soft. “You’re really bad at this, you know that?”

I fiddle with the top of his cigarette box. “Yeah, I know.”

“You brought this on yourself,” he continues.

“Yeah. I know that, too.”

“Don’t misunderstand me.” He edges closer, circling his fingers around my ankles. “I’m not talking about the department. I’m talking about this. Me and you.”

He squeezes my legs. Drifts his hands up my calves until his palms are tucked neatly behind my knees. He stays there almost on his knees in front of me, holding on to me like I’m his anchor.

“You just had to go and make me fall in love with you,” he whispers.

I inhale sharply. It’s a direct hit, sneaking under my ribs and sending a shower of gold sparks in every direction. “Don’t say that to me.”

“I’ll say whatever I want to you,” he tells me, but his voice is as soft as his expression. No heat. “Especially when it’s the truth.”

“Gabriel, I—”

“You don’t need to say anything,” he interrupts. “I told you because I wanted to. Because I—because I needed you to hear it.”

And what a beautiful, terrible thing. That the first time Gabriel has ever allowed himself to be selfish is with this. With me. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so afraid I’d sob instead, so I do the only thing I can do in the face of his quiet, stubborn declaration.

I kiss him.

I shift forward on the rickety front porch of a house that doesn’t belong to me in a town that was only ever supposed to be temporary, and I kiss the man who was sharpened to be my enemy.

It’s too fast. I’m too frantic. My hands are shaking and I can’t hold enough of him in my palms. I make an anguished sound against his mouth and he shushes me quietly, his fingertips gentle against the swell of my cheek.

“Easy,” he says. “I’m right here.”

He unfolds me from the front porch and scoops me into his arms, one hand under my ass and the other in my hair. He kisses me just like that, halfway up the front porch with my body wrapped around his, his mouth slow and measured.

But I’m tired of slow. I’m tired of measured. If we only have a handful of moments left, then I want to be consumed.

I sink my teeth into his bottom lip until he grunts. He stumbles forward, my back slamming against the weathered siding of the house.

“Inside,” I demand, my hands in his hair. “Upstairs.”

He blinks owlishly at me, his eyes hazy and clouded. For a second, I swear I can see shadows flickering in his pupils. But then he grins, and I’m tossed over his shoulder. He manhandles me through the front door and starts carting me up the stairs, my arms bouncing limply against his back.

He claps his hand against the back of my thigh and I squeal. “Don’t run from me again,” he orders.

I almost sink my teeth into the curve of his ass. “Okay,” I say instead, still laughing.

He launches me onto the bed and I bounce across the mattress, my hair in my face, Gabriel’s answering smile so young and boyish it sends a pang of longing reverberating through every inch of me. I wonder what it could have been like for us, if we had met in another lifetime. If maybe, somehow, we did. If we’ve found each other again in this one. If maybe, we’ll have to wait for another to have a little bit more.