Page 110 of Angel

“Johnathan Powell couldn’t live without his soulmate. There was no reason to carry on.”

“He had a son!”

I want to break something, years of frustration boiling over when it really should be contained.

“He does.”

Gabriel’s face falls.

He glances at Johnathan’s grave and blows out a breath. “I did what was necessary at the time. I thought it would help.”

“But now you realize it didn’t. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I was wrong.”

He turns back to mom’s grave.

“Nothing helped. Since she died, my life has been on hold. I can’t function without her. She is all I think about and it’s taken The Wild Angels to give me a reason to get up in the morning.”

“Not your research?”

I’m aware I’m treading on dangerous ground and he remains silent.

My heart beats fast because this is different. It’s almost as if Gabriel has reached a turning point. A crossroads if you like and he sighs. Deep, heavy, painful, and sad.

“It’s time to move on.”

For a second, I’m not sure I heard him properly.

“Move on?”

He turns and I’m shocked at the tears in his eyes.

“I let you down.”

His usual gruff tone is weakened and I hate it. He’s strong, undefeatable. I need him to be strong.

“I have buried myself away for too long already. Pretending it was for the best. But I’ve come to the realization that I am not helping myself heal, so, for the good of everyone involved, I’m going to lock the mansion and head off on a long vacation. Europe, the Far East, probably the entire world because I can’t live like this anymore, Angel. I want my life back.”

“You can’t breathe life into a ghost, Gabriel.”

“I can do whatever it takes, Jason.”

I falter, tears squeezing through my closed eyes as he calls me by my name for the first time in years.

“I’ve let you down. In indulging in my grief, I have lengthened yours. Melancholy should only be allowed for a short spell of mourning. I accept my mistakes and I want you to learn from them.”

“What are you saying?”

My voice catches and it shocks me when he faces me with tears running down his granite face and whispers, “I want to be a father to you again. The one your mother made me promise to be before she died.”

I have no words. The tears are painful as they bleed out years of abandonment.

He says nothing, merely moves toward me and pulls me roughly against his chest. His arms cradling me like the small boy I was when I lost both of my parents that day. One to cancer and one to grief.

But that man is holding me now, over his own grave. Yes, Johnathan Powell died the same day he lost his soulmate and Gabriel took over. One question still remains. Will he carry on as Gabriel or Johnathan? Both even. Whoever he decides to be, he will always be my father and I thank God he woke up to that at last.

CHAPTER 45