Page 65 of Grim Tidings

It would be so good between us. I know it.

Something in my expression must open and expand because Gabriel’s suddenly shutters. His wings spread out behind him another impossible inch, then tuck back in with a sigh. His eyes squeeze shut and then they’re gone. Back under that meticulous control.

When his eyes open, he’s managed his expression, too. He’s traded his playful heat for a solemn sort of seriousness.

I’m dizzy from the sudden shift, left cold and reeling as I struggle to catch up.

“I—”

I’m sorry, I almost say, embarrassed. I got carried away. I thought we were having fun.

But I don’t want to apologize anymore. Not when I didn’t do anything wrong. “You forgot the lime,” I say instead.

Gabriel picks up the lime but doesn’t put it in his mouth. He studies it intently, like the tiny sliver of fruit holds the answers to life’s great mysteries. “I think I’ve had enough to drink,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.” I nod, and then nod some more. “Yeah, me too.”

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. I am uncomfortably aware of all the bottles littered around us. Should I start gathering them up? Should I leave? I glance at the couch, where Tater Tot is splayed on his back, all four paws in the air, snoring loudly. My bag is wedged beneath his back.

“Um.” I climb to my knees. My hands are shaking, and I’m not exactly sure why. “Thank you for having me. I’ll wake up the dog, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

I squint at the antique clock on the mantel above Gabriel’s empty fireplace. I’m shocked when I see it’s almost two in the morning.

I’ve been in Gabriel’s apartment for hours.

“I should—” I tip to the side, unsteady, trying to get to my feet without making a fool of myself. “I should go.”

Gabriel moves forward. “Hold on a second, you—”

“Oh, that’s right.” I use one of his end tables like a ladder, pulling myself from the floor. “Our agreement. I owe you information.”

“That’s not—”

“What did I tell you last time?” I try to remember, but my thoughts are like fireflies. Each one glows briefly before floating away again. “Wet pavement. Yes, it was wet pavement. Okay, the next thing is—”

Gabriel is suddenly in front of me, the lime wedge he was holding shoved unceremoniously between my lips. He stares at me with that dark, unreadable look on his face while I sputter, his hand at my hip to keep me from flailing back into a coat stand.

“What was that for?” I mumble around the fruit. It’s sour and tart and without the tequila preceding it, a bit overwhelming. I suck at the juice anyway, then peel it from my mouth.

“No information tonight.” At my blank look, he continues. “You’ve been drinking.”

“So? You have, too.”

“So,” he parrots back, both of his eyebrows arching up. He squeezes my hip, then lets me go. “You can tell me tomorrow. I don’t want—” He shakes his head, seemingly at war with himself. “I don’t want you to tell me things when you’re not yourself.”

I frown, confused. “But we had an agreement. You cross an item off my list, and I tell you what you want to know.”

“I’m aware.” He backs away from me, reaching for the T-shirt I’m still holding in my hand. If I were capable of blushing, my cheeks would probably burn hot with the knowledge that I’ve been gripping it like a security blanket for the better part of a half hour. He tugs it over his head, mussing his already messy curls. “But the information will keep for another twelve hours or so.”

“Okay,” I say, still suspicious. “I guess I’ll—I guess I’ll be going, then. Thank you for the alcohol.” Unsure what else to do with myself, I salute. Then, horrifically embarrassed by my behavior, I scurry for the couch.

Or I try to. Something holds me in place.

I turn, and Gabriel has his finger curled around my back belt loop.

“Unhand me,” I demand.

Gabriel snickers. “Nah.”