Page 86 of Possessive Sinner
"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," I say instead.
Soft. Final. She studies me. Just for a second. Then nods.
"Of course," she says, squeezing my arm. "Whenever you are."
"Audra."
Kelly. With Maggie by her side.
"A word?" she asks, already taking my arm.
Both of them look horrible. Their eyes are red and puffy. No amount of makeup can hide the dark rings under them, and it's already smeared anyway. Kelly looks like she's lost twenty pounds in the few days since her son was killed. I don't hesitate. I let her and Maggie pull me away. Away from the eyes. The questions. The suffocating sympathy. I barely notice Gabe moving. But he does. Always there. Always watching. Kelly notices too. And she doesnotlike it.
"Do you mind?" she snaps, turning sharply toward him. "I'd like a word with my daughter-in-law."
Her tone is steel. Sharp. Protective. Gabe doesn't react. Doesn't move. He just looks at me. Waiting.
I nod. "It's okay, Gabe."
"Stay where I can see you," his voice doesn't leave room for argument. There's no mistaking it. It's not a suggestion. It's an order. Something in me bristles. Just a little. But I don't argue. Not here. Not now.
Kelly's eyes narrow. Sharply. She turns back to me, lowering her voice. "Who the hell is that man, Audra?"
The question lands heavier than it should. What is Gabe? Because I don't have a clean answer. Not one that makes sense. Not one that sounds… normal.
"A friend," I finally manage.
The word feels thin. Fragile. Like it could snap under the weight of everything I'm not saying.
"A friend?" Kelly repeats, her eyes narrow as she looks past me, at him. The way he stands. The way people give him space without being told. The way he watches everything.
"No offense," she mutters, turning back to me, "but he doesn't look like afriend."
I exhale slowly. No, no, he doesn't. Gabe looks like a lot of things, but just a friend is not one of them. There is nothingjustabout him. From his expensive, tailored suit that stands out in this crowd, which probably cost more than most of these people's combined weekly salaries, to the way he's built and holds himself. He would stand out in any crowd. Here? He looks like a prime predator, ready to hunt. Not in the loud, obnoxious way some men do. Not with wandering hands or leering looks. No. Gabe doesn't need any of that. He stands still. Calm and collected. Surrounded by an unmistakable edge that warns people to keep their distance. Everything about him feels… contained. He's violence, carefully folded under skin and bone. His posture sends an unmistakable message:push me too far, and it won't be a scene. It'll be over. Quick. Final.
Maggie moves from one foot to the other. She looks like she doesn't like her mother's tone or questions, but she's waiting for answers all the same. My mother-in-law's gaze sharpens, flicks in between us. She sees it too. Maybe not whatitis exactly, but she knows he doesn't belong here. Not among casseroles and whispered condolences and polite grief.
"He's a colleague," I say, and the lie slips out too easily.
Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn't believe me. Not for a second. Neither does Maggie. She knows most of the staff at the vet office, and I'm pretty sure she's met many of Pete's coworkers. And then there's the fact that Gabe doesn't look like a man who sits behind a desk or attends staff meetings. He looks like a man who takes what he wants and dares anyone to stop him. And right now—his eyes slide to me—he looks like he's already decided I'm his.
A chill runs down my spine, sharp and confusing and… not entirely unwelcome. God, what is wrong with me? This is Pete'sfuneral. My husband isn't even in the ground, and I'm standing here noticing another man. Feeling him. Letting him stand too close. Letting him stay.
My palms burn remembering the weight of his hand around mine. The steadiness of it. The way it grounded me when everything else was spinning out of control. Guilt crashes into me, hot and suffocating, not just about Gabe, but because I was going to leave Pete that day, and Kelly doesn't know that either. Nobody does. I drop my gaze.
"I should go sit down," I murmur, though I don't move.
Because the truth is—as much as I hate myself for it—part of me doesn't want to step away from him.
"I've never seen him before," Kelly says, scrutinizing him. "Not at the house. Not at work. Not anywhere."
I look at Maggie, but she's shaking her headnotoo.
"He's… helping me," I press out weakly. Even to me, my words sound pathetic. They're not a lie. Just not the truth.
Kelly's gaze sharpens. "With what?"
I hesitate before I decide to give her something. She is Pete's mother. Was. "He's protecting me."
