Page 72 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay
“Right. So he outranks you.” Bridget paused, then picked Gwen up again, ignoring her shrieks. “Back in you go, then. His Majesty hungers.”
Later, when Bridget had swum until her fingers were numb and Gwen’s hair was wild and wavy from the salted air, they’d mounted up and ridden back to Drakesease, washed the ocean off in the bath, and then met to sit by the fire in quiet contentment. Gwen liked to ask Bridget about her childhood, stories from her squiring days, and to her surprise, Bridget found she liked telling her.
“You know I kept trying to catch your eye at Camelot,” Bridget said, watching the flames dance in the hearth. “Even back then. I’d stand where I thought you’d be looking.”
“Did you really?” Gwen smiled. “Every time I saw you, I thought it was just very good luck.”
After Bridget’s parents had gone to bed, Gwen had moved to sit next to Bridget, tucked her face into Bridget’s shoulder, and said, “Thanks. I needed this.”
Now Gwen’s expression slackened, her fingers pausing on the tree, looking lighter at just the thought. “I’d love that.”
“Good,” said Bridget. “I love having you there.”
Their eyes met in a moment of bright intensity, and then Gwen sighed, and said, “I suppose I should go and check on Gabe. He’s been acting very odd today.”
There it was. Something tangible Bridget could do. The unburdening. “I’ll do it.”
Gwen shook her head. “That’s very nice of you, but I’m not sure he’d—”
“Let me try.”
Gwen shrugged, a motion that conveyedBe my guest, and walked with Bridget as far as the entrance to Gabriel’s tent before kissing her briefly on the cheek and parting ways.
When Gabriel admitted her, looking slightly confused, he did not seem to be having a better night than Arthur. Worse, perhaps, because there was a manic glint in his eye, like he was having fifty thoughts at once and none of them were good.
“I’ve come to see if you’re all right.”
“Oh. That’s nice. Um. All right?” Gabriel scrubbed at his hair, his curls achieving new and improbable heights. “No, I don’t think so. But are any of us, really?”
“Hmm,” Bridget said. This was painful, even if it was for the best. Talking about feelings. Still a nightmare.Do it for Gwen.“No. Guess not. I’ve been having some… trouble, since the anniversary this summer. Get sort of shaky and weird. We think maybe it’s stuff like… smells, that remind me of the battlefield. Mud, maybe.”
“Really?” Gabriel said, looking as if she’d caught him completely off guard. “What’s it like? Do you… by any chance feel like your heart is going to explode?”
“Not really. But it’s like I’m back there, for a second. Not great.”
“Not great,” Gabriel repeated faintly. “Well, that’s not what I have. Mine is just some kind of acute panic.”
Bridget nodded, her lips pressed together. “Want to trade?”
Gabriel laughed, surprised, and Bridget smiled painfully back at him. “No, thank you. I don’t particularly like my burden, but at least I know precisely how heavy it is.” He paused, the levity gone from his face. “I told Arthur.”
“That you’re still in love with him?”
“What?”Gabriel looked aghast. “No. No! About the panicking. What makes you think I’m still in love with him?”
“Oh, nothing,” Bridget said quickly. “But also, sort of… everything.” When he seemed even more anguished, she said, “But what do I know? I’m no love expert.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Gabriel said, back to messing with his hair with a near-hysterical level of distraction. “Gwen seems happy.”
The glow of that was better than winning straight runs at the tiltyard; Bridget let the feeling sit for a moment, and then said, “I think you should talk to her about this. Your… panicking.”
“Suppose I should, seeing as I’m apparently telling everybody.” He paused, and then said desperately, “Is it difficult, sometimes? With Gwen?”
Bridget nodded solemnly. “Yep.”
“But you still want to be together?”
Bridget thought for a moment before she spoke; Gabriel’s mental well-being seemed to hinge on what she said next. “Yeah. Nobody’s made up entirely of good days, but the good ones count for a hell of a lot.”
