Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Her words cut into my chest like blades. Hot, piercing, and deep.
“You’re making a mistake.”
She shook her head. “The only mistake I made was getting close to you. Letting yet another man take over my life. I don’t want or need you to protect me or fight my battles.”
“You don’t mean that. I’m nothing like your ex.” Then I frowned. “Is that what this is about? Your ex? Are you feeling upset or worried because you told me your story?”
“This has nothing to do with him,” she lied.
I laughed, the sound bitter. “This has everything to do with him. You lie for shit, Gabby.”
“I want you to leave. I don’t owe you anything.”
“What about what you owe yourself? Theo?”
She glared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly in agitation. Outside, the storm gathered, the darkness matching the feeling surrounding me in that room.
“Are you forgetting how good we were together, Gabby? How your body reacted to me?”
She slid in the final knife. “The sex was good, but that itch has been scratched.” She waved her hand as if dismissing it. Dismissing us. It reminded me of my ex and what she had thought of me, how she had used me, and it made me angry.
“So happy I serviced you well,” I stated, sarcasm dripping from the words.
Our eyes locked again, mine probing, begging her to stop this. Her dark gaze remained impassive.
“I want you to leave now,” she said, gripping the back of the chair. Her voice quavered.
I hesitated. I wanted to drag her into my arms. Make her talk to me. Tell me why she was doing this. Get her to stop. I took a step toward her, but she moved back, shaking her head.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t want you here. Leave.”
“Theo…”
“Don’t worry about my son. He isn’t your concern. Neither am I.” She indicated the door. “Get out. Leave me alone, Stefano. Just leave me alone.”
I hurried down the steps, my body propelling me away from her.
But my heart remained, trapped in that room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Stefano
Early Tuesday evening, the sounds of sirens screaming past the garage brought me out of my fog. I had been staring down at a design, listless and unseeing, for over an hour.
Gabby’s words echoed in my head on repeat. They never stopped.
He isn’t your concern. Neither am I.
The only mistake I made was getting close to you.
The sex was good, but that itch has been scratched.
Leave me alone, Stefano. Just leave me alone.
Her hurtful words had played on a constant loop in my head since I had left her. I had barely slept. I couldn’t eat. I felt as if part of me was missing. I felt numb most of the time.
I told myself I was being ridiculous. I had only known her a short time. There was no way I had formed such a strong attachment to her—to them—that I should feel so devastated.
But I did.
Brett knew what had happened. I had confided in him when he got home and found me sitting on the sofa in the dim light. He looked shocked, switching on the table lamp.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I only shook my head.
“Stefano—what the hell is going on?”
“Gabby broke up with me. She told me to leave her alone.”
He sat down heavily. “Shit. I’m sorry. What happened? Things seemed to be going so well.”
“I have no idea.”
“Take off your coat, man. You’re dripping wet.”
I glanced down, surprised. I was still wearing my coat. The material was soaked through, as were my jeans and my hair. My skin had goose bumps. I hadn’t even noticed.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I need to do that.” Still, I didn’t move.
“C’mon, Stefano. Work with me, buddy.”
Buddy. That was one of my names for Theo. The thought of not seeing him again, not spending time with my little man, hit me like a punch to the gut.
I looked up at Brett.
“I need to get her back. I need to figure out what happened and talk some sense into her.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “I think you need to give her a little time.”
I didn’t want to give her time. I wanted her to talk to me. To tell me why she pulled back. What had frightened her off.
Except her words, “You’re smothering me,” came back, hitting me in the gut again.
I knew Gabby—how she overthought things. How skittish she was. Her trust issues. Maybe Brett was correct. Maybe with a little time, she’d cool down and talk to me. Tell me what was wrong and what had caused this reaction.
I felt a small flicker of hope.
And I held on to it with the force of a hurricane.
I’d tried to act normal at the garage the past couple of days, and when Charly had approached me on Monday, looking crestfallen and worried, I had shaken my head.