Page 75 of Gabriel
I shake my head, pushing his hands away when he tries to help me up. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I pull myself together.
He lifts my face to the sky, turning it side to side. I can’t even look at him. If I do, I’ll give in to the need to fall apart. To take the comfort I know he would offer.
“Where does it hurt?”
I point to my head. Words are beyond me right now. Taking the cue, Gabriel gingerly tilts my head down, his fingers probingalong my skull. I wince when he hits a tender spot and he curses. “I’m going to probe a little more. I just want to make sure you don’t need stitches. Is that okay?”
I nod, clenching my teeth when the motion sends a spear of pain into my skull. Breathing through my mouth, I hold still as Gabriel presses his fingers along the wound.
A hiss slips through my teeth, and Gabriel’s hands fall away. “I don’t think you need stitches.” That’s a relief. “But we should get you?—“
“No.” I don’t want to go to the clinic or see a doctor. I just want to get the hell out of here.
“Cecilia?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, but the look on his face says he’s not convinced.
Gabriel helps me up, his hands steadying me when I sway on my feet, but he says nothing else. He doesn’t pry. Taking my bag from my arm, he slings it over his shoulder and leads me to the parking lot with a hand on the small of my back. A few people stop and stare, wondering why I’m such a mess. Gabriel fishes my keys out of my bag and, opening the passenger side door of my Jeep, helps me inside.
He stands in the open doorway, his eyes locked on me, and a storm of emotion burns inside his gaze. Reaching out, he tucks my hair behind my ear, presses his lips to my temple, and pulls the seat belt from beside me, reaching across my lap to secure the latch.
“Can I take you home?”
Swallowing hard, I nod.
“My home?”
Oh. “Okay.”
Satisfied, he closes my door and jogs to the other side. He keeps a mask on his face and doesn’t say any of the things I know are running through his mind.
Halfway there, his phone rings. Digging it from his pocket, he accepts the call, pressing his phone to his ear. I can only make out bits and pieces of the conversation. He keeps his answers short, but it’s clear he’s talking about me when he says things like, “She’s okay.” and, “I’m taking her home.”
I try to muster up my frustration. Maybe even annoyance. But in the end, all I feel is tired and dejected. Hanging up, he squeezes my hand across the center console and offers me a careful smile.
“You still good? Vision blurry? Are you in pain?”
“I’m okay,” I tell him, leaving out that my vision is fuzzy around the edges and there is definitely some pain. No point in making him worry more.
In the driveway, Gabriel helps me out and leads me inside to the living room. Julio and Felix are there and I get a glimpse of a guy I assume is one of their other roommates. He doesn’t introduce himself and I don’t take the time to ask.
Julio grabs a first aid kit from the kitchen and takes one look at Gabriel, who’s pacing the room before dropping beside me. He pulls out some antiseptic and cleans the cut on my head before sitting back and eyeing me with worry. “You going to tell us what happened before Gabe wears down a permanent path on the floors?” He chuckles, but it’s forced.
“Had a brief run in with an asshole. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Fuck!” Gabriel explodes into action, slamming his fist into the drywall beside him. It disappears into the wall, only for him to tear it back out. Bits of dust and debris fall to the floor, and I stare open mouthed at the hole he made. I knew he was upset, but I didn’t realize he was this angry, and I’m terrified to ask if any of his anger is directed at me.
Chest heaving, he opens and closes his fist, staring down at his now bleeding knuckles.
“Get it together.” There’s a warning in Julio’s voice. “She’s been through enough, and your tantrum isn’t helping.”
Gabriel’s mouth twists in disgust. Out of habit, I curl in on myself, sinking deeper into the cushions of the sofa. Gabriel catches my reaction and the color drains from his face.
“Shit.” He exhales a few colorful curses and drops to his knees in front of me. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry. I—” He cups my face in his bruised hand and holds my gaze. “I’m so fucking angry,” he confesses.
“With me?” Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip I try to turn away, but he crawls closer,, cradling my face in both his hands.
“Never.” He uses his thumbs to wipe beneath my eyes and presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for not being there to protect you.” And there lies the problem. I’m not Gabriel’s responsibility to protect.
