The Grumpy Roommate Gamble (Heroes of Huckleberry Creek #1)

15. Gabe

FIFTEEN

GABE

I’d been working like a demon for days at Felicity’s house.

The last of the flooring had been replaced, and I reached for the next sheet of drywall with a sort of manic strength. The work, the purpose, was the only thing keeping me sane just now. I’d barely slept, fueling myself with endless coffee and delivery food, because I needed to get this done. I needed the house finished so Felicity could get the hell out of my house, away from me. She wasn’t safe with me.

Over and over, I’d relived the moment I’d woken up, half choking her. I didn’t even fully remember the nightmare, but I’d never ever forget the look on her face, the feel of that soft body I’d worshipped only hours before going stiff as she struggled for the breath that I’d denied her.

She’d insisted she was fine, but all I could do was imagine all the ways it could have gone so much worse, because I wasn’t fully in control of myself. If I’d followed through on my training, fighting the threat that existed only in my own mind, I could’ve killed her.

I should never have given in. Never have taken her to my bed. It had been a mistake. I’d always known I was better alone, and this only confirmed that fact.

I didn’t know how to face her, so I simply hadn’t been home more than briefly for the past several days. Only late, late at night, after she’d gone to bed. In her own room, not mine.

That was its own form of indictment. One I absolutely deserved.

She couldn’t possibly feel safe in my house anymore, so I’d do this one last thing for her. To give her a safe place again, away from me.

I lost myself in the work, one measurement, one cut after the next. I’d just cut the last piece of drywall and fit it into place, when a voice spoke behind me.

“Wow, you’ve gotten a lot done.”

At the sound of Felicity’s voice, I almost dropped my hammer. I hadn’t seen her since I walked out on her the other night, and I wasn’t prepared now. But I made myself turn, made myself lift my gaze from the floor. Made myself look at her throat, searching for bruising. The lack of any was only a modicum of a relief.

“I’ve been busy.” It was the only thing I could say. All the apologies and assurances bouncing around in my brain felt paltry and useless.

“I noticed. I brought you some food.” She lifted a soft-sided cooler.

This woman. Trying to take care of me, to show me kindness, even now.

“Thanks.” Turning back to the drywall, I began pounding in nails. Just one more step toward the goal.

When I’d finished, she said, “You’re nearly done.”

“Yeah.” And that was easier to say than that I’d been keeping my demons on a short leash with the work .

But she saw anyway. Because of course she did. “I’m worried about you, Gabriel.”

I closed my eyes as the syllables of my name rolled off her tongue. I didn’t deserve her care and worry. So I did what I could to harden my battered heart and shut down that line of conversation. “You should be able to move back in by tomorrow or the day after. I’ll pay for movers.”

When Felicity said nothing, I glanced toward her.

Her face was ashen, eyes wide, as if I’d just slapped her. That just made me feel even worse. I was terrified she’d try to fight me on this. I didn’t know if I had the strength to do that. To do what was best for her. Because this was killing me.

Her shoulders squared. “If that’s what you want.”

I made my voice hard as the stone I needed to be. “It’s what I need.” More to the point, it was what she needed.

Tears glimmered in her eyes, and her lip trembled. I knew I was being a dick of epic proportions here. But it was for her own good. She’d see that, eventually.

At last, she nodded. “I’ll start packing. Movers aren’t necessary. I don’t have that much stuff.”

She walked out the way she’d evidently come in, leaving the cooler of food she’d brought on the counter.

And as the door shut behind her, I finally, truly stopped for the first time in days. I was exhausted. Soul weary. Everything hurt. Physically. Emotionally.

I’d done it. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to accomplish here. I could get the taping and mudding of the walls done, and finish the trim. Paint wouldn’t technically be necessary for her to move back in.

This was what needed to happen. She’d get her safe space back, and we’d both move on with our lives the way we’d been before.

So why did I feel like such an inveterate asshole?