You're Always in the Last Place You Look (35 page)

“I lost my phone in Wyoming, and, don’t laugh, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember your number. I even tried to find a listing for the church—“

“Cost cutbacks. Dad shut the phone off three years ago since everyone calls his cell anyway.”

“I figured something like that. When I asked Robert, he flat refused to track it down for me, saying I needed to concentrate on my therapy, not on my boyfriend. Even Merrill refused to help, and told me the same thing. I was so pissed. I used every one of my three phone calls a week dialing obscure numbers that popped into my head, hoping one of them would be yours. I even asked people if they knew you—damn Idaho with its one area code.”

I was shaking my head in disbelief. “Merrill knew?”

Zane went to snatch the smokes, but I saw the intent on his face, and got them first. “Yeah, he knew I was in a mental institute and trying to reach you. The bastard told me to leave you out of it. Only, for awhile, I actually believed he was right. It didn’t stop me from trying to remember your number, but it kinda fucked my head up.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Literally. That was when I sank pretty low and they gave me this lovely doo.” Leaning forward his fingers stretched to touch my hand but stopped inches away, flattening on the table instead. He laid his head down on his outstretched arm. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?” he asked soulfully, wearily. I could see the strain telling me had caused.

“This, you coming back, and what you just told me—I’m a bit in awe. I know how hard it is for you to share, and I’m really glad you told me everything, but I think I need some time to process it all.”

He pulled his hand back. “I had a good therapist. She helped me to realize I needed to open up—even if it wasn’t to her.” Sighing, he buried his head into the circle of his arms. I gazed at him hunched over, his spine and shoulder blades prominent beneath his shirt, and I felt the grief in my chest, the longing to hold him in my fingers, my arms, my entire being. It still hurt, what he had done, how he had left. Yet his reasons were as good as any. He was human, and we all made mistakes. I knew deep down mine would be not forgiving him for his. It would haunt me, maybe for the rest of my life.

Setting my arm on the table, I rested my chin there, then reached out and enveloped his hand in mine. “I do understand, and I can forgive you, but I still need some time to let everything settle.”

He gripped my hand as if it might escape, and gave a jerky nod. I felt the cadence of his heart thrumming through his fingertips, and with that tenuous connection my chest came alive again. I traced my thumb over the letters inked above his knuckles.
Love
; such a tiny word for so much joy, and such heartache.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I hated being afraid. I wanted everything to go away—the fear, the nightmares, all of it. The therapist—Katy—told me the pills would help, eventually, when I actually chose to take them.

Of course the steady diet of Monsters, coffee, and Rockstars on a mostly empty stomach hadn’t mashed well with the new meds on the drive back. Not to mention one of those mo-fos made me feel as energetic as a June bug, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open when I took it. Sleep was still a fucking scary place, and I had managed to avoid it since being released, but it had finally caught me once I arrived here. When Gabe suggested it, I had been too exhausted to resist the allure despite knowing what waited for me in the darkness. Damn buzzards fed off me.

They finally picked at me enough, they woke me. Reaching for Gabe, I fully expected him to be there, and panicked when I found the bed empty. I needed to see him or I wouldn’t be able to relax.

A strangle hold on Stanley, I stepped into the moonlit living room, felt the calm engulf me, and a wiry, relieved chuckle escaped.
He’s still here
. I had been certain I’d have to go to his house to make sure he was okay—but he stayed. The aesthetics of what that meant sent me to my knees. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew this only meant that he was worried about me. Even so, I held onto the hope that this meant he still cared about me. I wanted to believe that, needed to believe that.

Rising, I scuffled over to his sleeping form on the couch and sat gingerly on the coffee table. The heavy wood creaked and I cringed.
Stupid
. It would take more than that to wake Gabriel—like a plane crashing into the house. My foot bumped something on the floor and I reached down, retrieving one of my sketchpads. I wondered where that had gotten off to.
Shit
. If he didn’t think me crazy before, now we can add stalker—I set the sketchbook on the coffee table. Still he had stayed despite knowing how pathetically I’d watched him.

I hugged Stanley to my chest, letting my eyes wander over Gabe’s sleeping form. Out of all the guys in Chicago, I had to come to the middle of nowhere to find one that was gorgeous on the inside. Not that his outside didn’t do it for me—and I could definitely appreciate the definition he had developed over the summer—but Gabriel was unspoiled, achingly sweet, cared about people he shouldn’t, and took life as it came his way. He was everything I wasn’t.

It devastated me to know how much I had hurt him. He hadn’t had to tell me, I could see it in his eyes—no longer full of fascination for the unknown, but wary of the here and now. Of me. Rubbing my face, I wondered again what had gotten into me. Why I had thought leaving him would be a good idea, could save him. That I could somehow survive knowing he was alive in the world, safe and far from me. The lies we tell ourselves...

Setting Stanley between my legs, I leaned my elbows onto my knees. I just wanted to watch him for a bit. Soak up the serenity his presence brought me. I had missed it. I snorted softly. Yeah, that was an understatement.
Without him where had your dumb ass ended up
?

I had no idea trying to keep him safe would prove so difficult though. The further I traveled from him, the more my sanity slipped, and I never saw the demons waiting for me until it was too late. They were everywhere, and without Gabe I couldn’t seem to escape them.

Robert had been right. Without those six weeks I never would have been able to make it back on my own. As it was, driving my dad’s car, memories and his aftershave haunting me the whole way, I barely made it back the right side of sane. Being able to see Gabe safe and asleep in his bed yanked me back though. He’d always been able to do that. From the very first time I’d laid eyes on him it had been there, and I’d known he was different. But I’d never meant to fall for him the way I did. I hadn’t been ready for that, the heavy emotions, the desire to be with him all the time, needing him, wanting him.

Then the idea of losing him, as I had lost everyone else, sent me running. I wouldn’t survive it. I never stopped to think I couldn’t exist without him though. Discovering that had been the shock of my life. Realizing I’d rather die than not be near him. What a fucking idiot I’d been. I wouldn’t blame him if he never forgave me. Hell, I wouldn’t forgive me either.

Kissing Stanley’s forehead, I set him in the crook of Gabe’s arm, sure he needed him now more than I did. Retrieving the afghan he had kicked onto the floor, I laid it back over him, and my knuckles grazed his skin. The reaction was instant and pathetically slutty considering. But damn, it had been a long time since I’d allowed myself to think about him that way. There wasn’t anyplace private enough at the institute—not that that had stopped my roommate, but I hadn’t been desperate enough. Kind of was now though. I turned away, actually looking forward to my empty room right now.

An arm snatched me out the air as if I weighed nothing, and I screeched exactly as if I’d seen a spider. I landed on top of him, sending Stanley bouncing onto the floor and under the coffee table.

Gabe’s hold cinched down around my middle. “Hey beautiful, how long have you been watching me?” His sleep ragged voice jetted through me faster than any drug, and I sighed against him, savoring his solid embrace, skin warm on mine.

“Awhile,” I admitted, completely without guilt.

He nuzzled his lips against my shoulder, and my heart went haywire. I let it, not wanting to think about anything other than Gabe pressed against me.

“Mmm, I figured. I can feel you when you’re watching me.” Shuffling to his side, he slid me off him, settling me along the edge of the couch. Carefully, I brought my legs up, afraid if I moved much he might come to his senses and shove me onto the floor. Tucking me against him, he yawned, then murmured, “Now go to sleep.”

How was I expected to do that with my heart fluttering out of control, my dick pleading, and my mind racing over the possibilities of what this could mean? But tight in his arms, leaning against him so I didn’t fall off the couch, every ounce of tension floated away, and I sank like a rock into tranquil repose, rather than the dark rigidity of nightmares.

*

Zane stretched—
hello, right parts, and definitely the right guy
—and I tried really hard not to groan. But it was near impossible with him sliding against me after being pasted together most of the night. I’d thought I was dreaming, then when I woke—definitely not dreaming.

“Who are you?” I asked, dazed and completely captivated.

His eyes drifted open and he frowned in confusion.

I ran my fingers up his arm feeling the tickle against the pads. “I went on a date when you were gone”—his eyes fell, but I went on—“and he was cute, and fun, and he seemed to really like me, and I wanted to see him again. Then he kissed me. I don’t know why, but I froze. I couldn’t touch him, and didn’t want him touching me. It was incredibly embarrassing and terrifying actually.” I grazed my thumb over a patch of stubble along his jaw. “It’s different with you though. For some reason I’m not afraid. Except”—I gently touched the
Gabe’s
scrawled along the crook of his neck, then the archangel on his chest—“these scared me a bit when I first saw them this morning. I can’t decide if you’re insane for getting them or sweetly optimistic.”

His cheeks pinked, and I noticed his color had improved, the shadows haunting his eyes had waned. “Two stays in a mental institute and several medications should answer that question.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s it, but you have it wrong, you know.”

Now he shook his head, his look earnest as he pressed my palm to his chest. “It’s Gabriel.”

I hadn’t missed that the archangel bore a striking—and I suspected intended—resemblance to me, and it had taken me aback when I first saw it.

“I noticed that. But I, um,” I cleared my throat, “I think you embellished a bit.” The angel was as God intended, naked, and
gifted
, to put it nicely.

Lifting our hands, he glanced down at his chest, then at mine and shot me a cocky grin. “I don’t think so.” He knew I didn’t mean the angel’s chest.

I returned what I hoped was just as cocky a grin. “I don’t have wings,” I pointed out.

His expression softened. “To me, you do.”

I think I actually rolled my eyes as I shuffled onto my elbow and stared down at him. “Jesus, Zane! Here you’re making me out to be some divine creature, when all I am is a country boy who just wants to be happy, and live a simple life.”
And reacquaint my hands with your body
, but I kept that to myself, even though I felt a guiltless pleasure being able to admit that, even if only to myself.

When I checked on him last night, he’d been so cute cuddled around my old bear, and it had taken a great deal of effort to close the door and schlep to the couch.

His eyes went round. “That’s good because I’m totally not into the city life anymore,” He said coarsely, then scrubbing his face added, “I think my new motto is; Keep it simple, stupid. If I hadn’t over thought everything, none of this would have happened.” Tucking his hand beneath his head, his brow dipped. “What did you mean when you said I had it all wrong?”

I had to think back to remember. “Oh, right. Well, you claim to be mine based on that brand on your neck...” I looked right into his beautiful clear blues, knowing I was ready to stumble back into them, into him, and allow for an
us
again. Maybe I was being stupid, too romantic, too hopeful, and too trusting. But he was the one who found me, and transformed me into someone only he seemed to truly know. “But since that first touch, I’ve belonged to you. You completely took me over, showed me there was a world beyond what I could see, and I don’t ever want to lose that again,” I breathed out, feeling the verity of what I just admitted. I was okay with it though. Forgiving him, because I knew if he ever tried to leave me again, I’d do what I should have done this time—I’d hunt him down, and drag his ass back.

His eyes fell, his fingers skimming my chest ever so lightly. “D-d-do y-you...” He frowned and his eyes scrunched up, staying closed for several seconds. I was about to ask if he wanted his pills when he began talking again. “The therapist, she g-gave me some exercises. They d-don’t work if I go off my meds, but they s-seem to help when I’m n-nervous, or worried, or...or s-s-scared.”

“Why are you scar—” Zane’s fingers trapped my lips, quieting me. His breathing deepened, as a look of sheer determination overtook him. He breathed, concentrating as his lips moving silently.

Finally he sighed, dropping his head against my chest. “Do you...do you think you could ever love me again?”

That’s what scared him
? How could he even ask that? Fingering his chin, I lifted his face up. “You’re such a dork, you know that? Yes, you pissed me off, and hurt me like no one else ever has, but I’ve
never
stopped loving you.” Couldn’t he see that? Right then I realized all this time I had been longsighted. That was the reason I hadn’t been able to kiss Albert back. I’d been unable to let Zane go. It was also why I forgave him more quickly than I probably should have, and latched onto him in the middle of the night half-asleep. He was the one I wanted to snuggle up to at night and kiss in the morning. I wanted to be the one to hold him and dry his tears when he cried, be able to make him smile, laugh, sigh, and moan, do laundry with him, shovel snow, take walks, argue and forgive, teach him to swim, be his family—and the thought of anyone else doing that with him just made me crazy. I guess I was like my father, and least in that respect. Mom had been his first everything, and there had never been anyone else.

Zane’s eyes widened, then he gave me that look, the one that curled my toes every time; soft, coy, full of promise, a smidge cocky, and sexy as heck. “Gabe, would you...”

“Yes, on one condition.” He blinked, not expecting that. “No matter what happens from now on you talk to me. No exceptions.”

He nodded, chewing his empty lower lip.

Running a thumb over where his teeth had just been, I added, “And you put your tongue stud and lip ring back in.” He just wasn’t Zane without them.

He smirked. “That’s two condi—”

I didn’t let him finish the sentence. Taking hold of what he claimed was mine, I kissed him harder than I intended. Maybe it was punishment for all he put me through, or more than likely I just needed to know he was real, that this wasn’t a dream, and he still wanted me as much as I wanted him. Zane kissed me back, matching my fervor, and clinging to me as if I might disappear too. There was nothing tentative about his touch, and I felt my insecurities evaporate.

Ten days later
.

Glancing through the long vertical window near the door I paused, taking in the boy leaning against the porch railing, and gazing across the ocean of tall bleached grass. He was dressed in snug jeans, as always, and his shoulders had filled out over the past days, his ribs now just a whisper against his cream skin. Shaking my head, I grinned at the bright purple and turquoise decorating his toenails, a definitive sign of his re-emergence. Zane had been finding the pieces of himself, and with my support he was putting himself back together.

But damn him for not wearing socks. He knew what that did to me.