Page 107 of The Striker
Gabriel stops but doesn’t turn around. His eyes remain on mine as he says, “They can have one in the morning. I’ve got more important shit to worry about right now than giving the 5-0 a statement. The center has cameras. Tell them to look at them.”
My eyes widen at the reminder, and a small smirk curls the corners of Gabriel’s mouth. “Let’s see Holt worm his way out of this.” To Julio he adds, “I need keys.” Julio nods, rushes over to say something to Deacon, and then returns with a pair of keys in hand. He and Gabriel swap sets before Gabriel starts walking again. As soon as the cold air outside hits my damp skin, I shiver.
“Where are we going?” I ask, curling my face into his shoulder.
“I’m taking you home,” he tells me.
I don’t want to go home. I’m not ready to face my parents. They’ll want to know what happened. And they’ll ask questions. Questions I’m not ready to give them the answers to. But before I can open my mouth to object, he adds, “My home. I want to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”
With a sigh, I nod against his chest, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. “Okay.”
Some of the tension drains from his shoulders, and when we reach what I assume is Deacon’s car, Gabe carefully opens the door and helps me into the front seat. Taking a blanket from the back, he wraps it around my body before helping me to secure my seatbelt.
“I should probably take you to the hospital,” he says, but I shake my head in a definitive no.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. I just …” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I just want to go home with you.”
32CECILIA
As we drive, Gabriel’s hand rests gently on my thigh, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos swirling in my mind. I watch the passing scenery through the car window, my tender cheek pressed against the cool glass.
I lost my spot on the team because of you. I won’t make the mistake of believing that lying mouth of yours and let you take anything else from me.
What did he mean by that?
“Did something happen today?” I ask as we pull into Gabriel’s driveway. “When you got back from Sun Valley?”
He doesn’t answer.
Coming around the car, Gabriel opens the passenger door and scoops me into his arms, carrying me inside.
“I can walk,” I tell him, but my argument is weak as I wrap my arms tighter around his neck.
“You’re not wearing any shoes,” he reminds me.
Right.
Gabriel carries me up the stairs and into his room before depositing me on the bed. He disappears for a few seconds into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on before he returns with a large fluffy towel and an extra pair of clothes.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll help you?—”
“I got it,” I tell him, accepting the clothes and towel. “I need a couple of minutes.”
Jaw tight, he nods. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
Turning away from Gabriel, I close the door behind me, needing a moment to collect myself. The harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom casts stark shadows across my bruised and battered body as I strip out of my swimsuit and stand before the mirror.
With trembling hands, I reach up to touch my cheek, wincing at the tenderness beneath my fingertips. The split in my skin is angry and red, a stark reminder of what I endured. My left eye is close to being swollen shut, the bruise already beginning to darken, painting my face in shades of purple and blue.
Turning slightly, I take in the raw scrapes on the side of my thigh and shoulder. The skin is tender to the touch, my body aching with every movement now that the adrenaline has worn off.
But it’s not just the physical wounds that haunt me. It’s that feeling of helplessness. Of being overpowered all over again.
Tears blur my vision as I struggle to make sense of it all, to reconcile the image in the mirror with the person I am. The one who was healing. Recovering. Dammit. I was finally starting to put my life back together and then this happens?—
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus, to push aside the tide of emotions threatening to consume me. I turn away from the mirror and step into the warm shower Gabriel started for me.
The water cascades over me, washing away some of the pain and blood, but it does little to ease the ache in my heart. I close my eyes, desperate for the warmth of the shower’s spray to seep into my bones, but the next thing I know, I’m crying and I can’t seem to stop.
