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“Gabriel—”
He jolts upright at the sound of his name and paces toward the far corner of the room, keeping his eyes on me like I have a gun in my hands. I think he might crumple into the corner, but at the last second, he changes direction and stumbles through the doorway into the bathroom.
I know I’m not supposed to get any closer, but I hear his knees hit the tile.
Then retching.
I drop his jacket and run. I’m at his side in seconds. Gabriel’s on the floor, both hands at his hip. He’s throwing up into a low wastebasket in the corner of the bathroom. When I touch his shoulder he shoves my hand away, hard.
But then he doubles over again. Hejustpushed me away, but he finds the hem of my skirt and pulls me down next to him. There wasn’t much in his stomach to begin with, I don’t think, but his body wants it gone anyway.
I put an arm around his shoulders and hold him. “It’s okay. It’s over, Gabriel. We’re okay.”
It’s not over. He scrambles back from the wastebasket and climbs to his feet. “Get it off me.”
“There’s nothing on you.”
“Elise. Get themoff. I don’t want anything—anything on me from that room. Anything they touched.”
He can’t or won’t stop covering that place at his hip. Gabriel’s frantic, sweating, and the shaking hasn’t subsided. Three steps, and his back is against the wall. He fumbles at the buttons of his shirt with one hand.
The clothes. His clothes.
My father, Chambers, and Newhouse might not have put their hands on the cloth, but it doesn’t matter. Gabriel has usedperfect suits and dress shirts as armor for a long time. They couldn’t protect him tonight.
“Here. Let me. I didn’t know what you meant. I do now.” I’m not careful with the buttons. One of them flies off and disappears. I get them all undone and tug the shirt off his shoulders. “Better?”
He shakes his head, his face anguished. The pants are a problem, too. I slide his shoes off first, then go for his belt. Gabriel kicks his pants off as soon as his zipper’s down. He’s down to his boxers and T-shirt. He stares down at the remaining clothes, seeming to decide that they’re okay, and his knees give out. He slides down to the floor, struggling for air. His hands flex over his T-shirt.
I get down with him and crawl between his strong thighs. Did someone actually cut him? I’m not sure when that would have happened, but I need to find out. I swallow my jitters and lay my hands over his.
“Let me see.”
Gabriel shakes his head, but he allows me to lift his hands and tug his shirt out of the way. I’m half-expecting to see blood. A bruise, at least.
At first, I don’t see anything. But then I run my fingertip over the spot he’s been covering and feel the scar.
It’s where a knife went in.
Someonedidstab him. Just not tonight. My stomach tightens. What happened at the initiation brought this to the surface.
Understanding washes in. I put his hands back in place and meet his eyes. “It wasn’t just that he stabbed you, was it?”
He swallows. “No.”
“He forced you.”
Gabriel nods. He pulls his body tight to the wall, his lips pressed together. It’s shame. He thinks I might judge him for this.
No. Never. I have goose bumps all over my skin. My chest aches. I want to cry. But I’d never judge him.
I move into his lap and put my arms around him. “We’re safe. Okay? Nobody can come in here.”
Gabriel’s head falls onto my shoulder, and his chest hitches. His heart rate has to be dangerously high. His breathing is way too fast.
“When did it happen?” It’s probably not the best time to ask, but I’m worried that he won’t be able to leave if he doesn’t let it out.
“My second night in the alleys.” He sounds torn between saying more and going silent forever.
