If You Leave: The Beautifully Broken Series: Book 2 (21 page)

Good-naturedly she flops onto her belly and I straddle her slender form. I bend down and whisper into her ear.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s not going to be that easy. I’m giving you a massage. You’re going to have to take your shirt off.”

Without saying anything or even looking at me, she strips her shirt off and tosses it to the side. She’s not wearing a bra. Suddenly I can’t decide if my punishment for her is going to be harder on her or on me.

She means nothing.

She means nothing.

I remind myself of that as my hands span the width of her back and I rub her muscles soothingly, her skin soft beneath my fingers.

My dick doesn’t get that memo about how little she means to me and how little she affects me. Because each touch makes me a little harder and with each stroke my dick presses more and more into her ass. Fucking traitorous appendage.

I know Madison’s acutely aware of it, but she doesn’t point it out. She simply remains relaxed, facedown on the bed.

I move down to her feet and pick one up, rubbing every inch of it before I continue up her leg, up and over her knee and onward up to her thigh. I knead, pull and rub every inch of her. Up to her neck, down to the small of her back. Her breaths are coming in small little pants now and I smile. She’s not as unaffected as she would have me believe.

And why does her body have to be so fucking perfect?

I slide my hands around her hips and pull her up just a little, as my fingers slide to the juncture of her thighs.

She inhales sharply and I smile again.

Leaning forward, I whisper into her ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

And then I bury my fingers slowly inside her, moving in circles as I slide them in and out. I kiss between her shoulder blades as my fingers fuck her. Within minutes her body tightens up and she moans. When she falls limply back against the bed, she turns to me, her cheeks flushed.

“What was that for?” she asks, her eyes slightly glassy. “You know I can’t have sex with you right now.”

She reaches for me, pulling me to her before she buries her face into my chest.

“I know,” I say. “But since I’ve massaged it for you, maybe tonight?”

She giggles and nestles into me even tighter. “Maybe. If you play your cards right. For now, though, God, I’m tired from those stupid sandbags. Let’s take a nap.” She closes her eyes, but after a minute opens them again with a random question.

“Do you miss the Rangers? What rank were you?”

“Every day.” My answer is immediate. “It’s all I ever wanted to be. And I was good at it. I was a first lieutenant when I discharged.”

“Wasn’t there a way that you could’ve stayed in?” she asks, opening her eyes and looking up at me. “Somehow?”

I pause, stricken, but try not to show it. It’s a question that I asked myself a hundred times before I made the decision to resign.

“No,” I finally answer. “There wasn’t a way. If there was, I would’ve done it.”

“Are you happy doing what you’re doing now?” she asks curiously.

I nod. “Yeah. I’m happy doing what we’re doing because we’re going to help other soldiers. Brand and I went through something shitty. And if other soldiers don’t have to go through that because of our armor, it’ll make me real fucking happy.”

She nods. “The thing you went through… is that part of the shit you don’t want to talk about?” I nod.

“Yeah.”

Surprisingly, she lets it go. I stare down at her.

“What about you? Jacey told me that once upon a time, you were going to be a model or something. Are you happy here in Angel Bay?”

She’s quiet and I know I struck a nerve.

Finally she shrugs.

“That wasn’t meant to be,” she says carefully. “Sometimes shit happens, and all we can do is our best. This is my best.”

I stare down at the gorgeous woman curled into my side. I might be obtuse about women but even I can hear the resignation in her voice.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” I point out. “You don’t have to live this life if it isn’t what you want. It’s clear you don’t want to be here.”

Madison blinks, staring off into the distance. I’m not sure, but it seems like she might be trying not to cry.

“It
is
what I want,” she finally answers. “I wanted to be near Mila. And even though she’s leaving soon, Angel Bay is home. The restaurant is here and running it is my responsibility. And besides, you’re here now.”

You’re here now.

My chest tightens and my stomach tenses up. Because I wanted to fuck her without strings, without worrying that I’d hurt her. Because I know that I will. She seems tough, but it’s obvious that on the inside she’s fragile. It’s only a matter of time until I fuck up and she needs to know that.

“Maddy, me being here might not be a good thing,” I tell her. “That shit that you don’t know? It’s pretty ugly.”

She nods, her hair brushing my chest.

“I figured it was,” she agrees. “Or else you wouldn’t hate talking about it. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re a good person on the inside, Gabe. That’s why I’m so glad I figured out what you’re really like. On the outside, you’re this cocky badass with a secret. But on the inside, you’re good. I don’t have to worry about you hurting me anymore.”

She falls silent and I rub her arm as she fades into sleep. After a half hour or so, her breathing evens out and I know she is definitely asleep. That’s when I finally answer her.

“Yes, you do,” I whisper, before I carefully disentangle my limbs from hers and crawl out of the bed.

I wake up from my nap, finding myself alone. I sigh, then stretch. A glance at my clock tells me that I’ve been asleep for an hour and a half. I rarely nap at all, so I must’ve been exhausted.

As my head clears I remember the flood. I leap from the bed and race to the living room windows, staring outside.

The water has made its way up to the wall of sandbags, and is lapping against it. For now, the sandbags are doing their job.

“It’s going to be fine,” Gabriel says from behind me. “It’s holding nice and tight. As long as the water goes down in the next couple of days, it should be good.”

I turn around. Like always, I think I could stare at him forever. He’s not perfect in a male-model kind of way. He’s perfect in a rugged, sexy-as-hell kind of way. Masculine. Powerful. Strong.

“What?” he asks curiously as I stare. I shake my head.

“Nothing. Did you find things to do while I took a nap?”

Gabe nods as we head into the kitchen. “Yeah. I got turned around a few times. A few minutes ago, I think I found my way into your parents’ room.”

My gut immediately clenches, a stupid and extreme reaction to something so simple. I keep their door closed for a reason but obviously Gabe didn’t mean to intrude.

“No big deal,” I tell him airily, pretending to be casual. “No harm done. Did you close the door when you came out?”

Please have closed the door. I don’t want to see in there.

Gabriel stares at me, curiosity in his dark eyes, like he can see through me.

“Yeah, I did. Maddy, their room looks like it must’ve looked the day they died. Your dad’s boots are still by the door, caked in mud.”

He pauses, staring at me. I stare back. “And?”

Gabe shrugs. “It’s not my business. I was just curious. I wasn’t judging.”

I know he wasn’t. Just as I know it’s weird that I’ve left their room untouched. But grief does weird things to a person. So does guilt. I honestly just wanted to close their door and not think about it. Or them.

“I know it’s weird,” I tell him. “I can’t explain it. Even to myself, really.”

Even though it’s been four years.

Gabe stares at me again, his dark eyes softening. I see sympathy in them. “Want to go for a walk on the beach?” he asks.

I nod. I throw a pair of shorts on and we make our way out my back door and down the path and spill out onto the beach. The air is cool and I can feel the moisture in it—both from the lake and from the flooding around us.

Overhead, sea gulls circle and cry.

In front of us, Lake Michigan crashes hard against the shore, disturbed by the recent storms. I know that if we walked down to the nearest public beach, the red flags would be flying… a symbol that the current is dangerous.

“Why didn’t I ever see you in the summers?” I ask Gabe. “Jacey said you didn’t come into town because you were shy. But that doesn’t seem right.”

He shrugs, looking out at the water. “I don’t know. I spent a lot of time with our grandfather, fishing and stuff. Jacey and Gran were the ones who came into town.”

“That makes sense,” I answer. “But I wish I would’ve met you back then.”

Gabriel laughs. “I think you would’ve been underwhelmed. I was so dead set on joining the military that it was all I could think about.”

And you gave that up for some reason that you won’t talk about.

That idea, that notion, makes me crazily sad.

“Well, it’s for the best. I was sort of a wild child. You probably wouldn’t have liked me anyway.”

“I doubt that,” he answers, and as he does, he picks up my hand and holds it. That simple little thing sends my heart ricocheting off my rib cage. It seems so intimate.

To keep from saying something stupid about it, I start chattering about my escapades, the way I used to be, the trouble I used to get into with my parents, especially my dad.

When Gabe looks at me seriously, I quickly regret mentioning that last part.

“I can’t stand it when a man takes his anger out on a woman,” Gabe tells me. “So I’m afraid I don’t really have an open mind when I hear about your dad. I’m sorry.”

I tense up, then remember that Pax told him about my dad. I don’t know how much, but probably enough. I stare at the wet sand as we walk, unable to meet Gabe’s gaze.

“I know. But the world isn’t always black and white. There’s a million different shades of gray. I doubt that’s something you’ve had to deal with in the Rangers. I’m sure everything is either right or wrong for you. But for normal people, there’s a whole lot of space between the two.”

“Are you defending your dad?” Gabe raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

The blood rushes into my head and I swallow hard. “No. It’s just… you don’t understand.”

“Then help me to,” Gabe implores me. “Seriously. I’d like to wrap my head around your rationale. It’s clearly something that has messed you up, even still. Yet you still defend him. You still keep his boots untouched by his bedroom door, almost like you’re hoping that he’ll come back. I don’t mean to be a dick and I don’t mean to pry. But Jacey does this same shit with our dad. He doesn’t hit her, but he disappoints her time and again and she always hopes for more. I don’t understand it. If someone has shown you their true colors, chances are they aren’t changing. Why do you hope for more? Why do you hold your dad’s memory in a sacred place when he fucked you up?”

My breath is frozen as I stop in my tracks and stare at Gabriel.

“I don’t hold my dad’s memory in a sacred place. It’s complicated. I loved my parents. And I hated them. And I miss them. And I don’t want to think about them. All of that combines into something that I don’t know how to deal with.”

Gabe stares at me, unflinching. “How you can love someone who hurt you like that?”

I sigh raggedly. It’s a question I’ve wondered about a million times.

“That’s complicated too. But my dad was a good person… until he got mad. And when he got mad, he totally lost his shit. Like, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons why it unnerved me so much that first night with you in Chicago. You were like night and day too. Calm and cocky, then you lost your shit. I thought you might be like my father.”

Gabe looks aghast. “Holy fuck, Madison. I didn’t know your father, but I can guarantee you that I’m nothing like him.”

I nod. “I know. But you were so different, like you just flipped a switch that night and then you punched a wall out of nowhere. After growing up with my father, it was terrifying.”

Gabe looks uncomfortable, almost embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wish I could explain. But it’s complicated.”

“So you should understand how things aren’t always black and white,” I answer, feeling a little satisfaction at the conflicted look on his face. He looks unsure now. Unsettled.

“Tell me more about your parents,” he replies, redirecting me, avoiding my statement. “Pax told me a little, but not much.”

“When you grow up with someone like my father, someone who is wonderful most of the time, but a complete ass a quarter of the time, it messes with your head. You start thinking that it’s normal, or that you deserve it, or in our case, sometimes I wondered if my mom deserved it. But deep down, I always knew she didn’t. And then I’d get mad at her for staying… even though I loved him at the same time.”

“It sounds like it really messed with your head,” Gabe says quietly. “But you always knew it wasn’t your fault, right?”

I step over a piece of driftwood and then stare out at the water, thinking about the one time that I didn’t. “Usually,” I answer. “Except for once. The one time he hit me.”

“Let’s sit,” Gabe suggests, guiding me by the elbow to a big piece of driftwood. “I’d like to hear this. What made a grown man hit a kid?”

My eyes start to burn as I think about it and I swallow hard. Blurry memories start coming back to me, memories that I’ve purposely not thought about in years.

“I wasn’t a kid,” I correct him. “I was seventeen. My dad came home from the Hill pissed off about something from work and my mom wasn’t home. I had no idea where she was but my dad thought I was lying for her. When he got mad like that, there was no reasoning with him.

“He asked me over and over where she was and I told him over and over that I didn’t know. And then he just backhanded me. Hard. I went flying backward onto the couch. It felt like my entire face had exploded, it hurt that much. But that really wasn’t the worst of it.”

I pause, and wipe away a tear that has broken rank and fallen down my cheek.