Page 84 of Grim Tidings

Gabriel stays quiet as he slowly washes my hair. He’s gentle, shielding his palm over my forehead so water doesn’t get in my eyes. Duti-fully untangling every knot and catch. Lathering and then rinsing my long, dark strands.

It’s the most anyone has ever bothered to take care of me. In this life or any other.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, his touch so achingly gentle it almost hurts. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He sighs, long and slow.

“It’s done now,” he repeats, combing his fingers through my hair until it’s smooth. There are gentle tugs at the base of my scalp as he fusses with the strands, separating it and then starting to braid.

“Yes,” I agree, my voice thick. “It is.”

And that brings a fresh wave of silent tears.

Because if it’s done, then there’s no reason for me to linger. If it’s done, then it means I have to go. All of this, gone.

The flowers.

The town.

The bar.

Gabriel.

My breath hitches in my chest. “I don’t—”

Gabriel hushes me, pulling the elastic from his wrist and tying it over the end of my brand-new plait. “You need to rest.”

He urges me from the water and bundles me in a towel that smells just like him, uncaring that I’m dripping all over his T-shirt and jeans. He lifts me against his chest like the weight of me is inconse-quential, then eases us from the bathroom to the hallway.

Through the windows, the storm has cleared. The sun dances through the red maples outside his window, sending auburn-dappled light against the scuffed hardwood floors.

Gabriel carries me all the way to his bedroom, then sets me in the middle of his unmade bed. He disappears briefly to dig around in his dresser, then returns with a well-loved flannel. Brown and evergreen. The color of the forest in the middle of the night.

When all I do is stare at it, he gently lifts my arms, encouraging them through the sleeves, then pulling the material over my shoulders. He buttons it from the top, his knuckles brushing against my collarbones, the hollow of my chest, the curve of my belly and the band of my underwear.

“M’getting everything wet,” I murmur, my eyes heavy.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispers back, his lips against my temple. His magic pulses, and I’m completely dry. The underwear I wore in the bath and my brand-new braid, hanging between my shoulders.

“Get some rest,” he says. “We’ll talk about everything else later.”

I nod. My eyes feel waterlogged, and my body feels like—well. My body feels like it was hit by a midsize SUV.

I close my eyes and tip back against his pillows. I curl myself in the smallest ball I can manage.

“You’ll be here?” I ask, already halfway unconscious. “You’ll stay?”

His exhale is soft, his palm a heavy weight against my thigh.

“Yeah, Darcy. I’ll stay.”

Chapter Nineteen

Gabriel

She looks impossibly small in the middle of my bed.

This ferocious, immortal being. The embodiment of death. Snoring gently with every exhale and cuddling one of my discarded sweat-shirts like a teddy bear.