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It’s quiet in the car for the first part of the drive back, but it’s not strained or sad, really. Just pensive and a bit somber. When I look over at Gage, his fingers are relaxed on the steering wheel, and for once, he’s not clenching his jaw or looking like he’s about to go off on somebody.
“How long have you been doing that?” I ask him. “Taking care of Meredith. Giving her birthday money.”
He shrugs a shoulder, keeping his gaze on the road.
“Ever since I left, really.” One side of his mouth quirks up in a little smile. “Even when I couldn’t really afford it.”
That fits with what I know about Gage, and I like the thought of it. He didn’t leave her behind when he left, and he kept trying to help her and support her, even before it was as easy as it was now. It just goes along with how much he cares about the people in his heart. How he’s willing to do anything he can for them.
“Have you ever tried to get her out of there?” I ask.
“Plenty of times,” he says. “Over the years, I’ve given her more than enough money that she could have left already and moved into some place much nicer. But that’s not how she is. She doesn’t even keep all the money. She spreads it around to the other tenants and helps them out. There are people she cares about there. People she’s helped as much as she helped me. She’s not going to leave them behind, and I can’t argue with her about it, because I get that.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I get it too.”
Gage reaches across the center console and rests his hand on my leg, squeezing a little. I can feel the warmth of his palm through my pants, and the gesture is possessive and affectionate at the same time.
Neither of us says anything, but he lets his hand linger there.
And in the end, that says a lot.
