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

18. Felicity

EIGHTEEN

FELICITY

“I can stay,” Austen offered. “Help you unpack.”

I pretended not to notice the deep concern in my bestie’s eyes. “No, you have your own stuff to deal with. But I appreciate dinner and the ice cream.”

Not that there was enough cookies and cream on earth to make this okay.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do to help?”

“Actually, can you go by the house in a day or two to get the last few boxes of my stuff? I can’t face Gabe right now.” I wasn’t sure if I could face him ever again. I’d used up all my strength to get through that last little scene in the driveway without embarrassing myself by bursting into tears and begging him to change his mind.

“Of course. And if you want, I’ll send Clint to kick his ass.”

“They’re friends. I’m not going to ask you to ask him to do that.”

“They may be friends, but Clint agrees he’s being a dumbass.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me they’d been talking about us. I was sure plenty of folks would be talking about us. But I couldn’t think about that right now.

“Still, that’s not going to solve anything.”

Austen pouted. “It would make me feel better.”

I managed a rusty bark of a laugh, which had probably been her intention all along.

“Thanks for having my back.”

“Anytime, girl.”

With one last hug, I saw her on her way and shut the door.

When she was gone, I walked through the house.

I hadn’t unpacked a thing. Hadn’t been able to bring myself to, because I wasn’t sure if I could actually stay here.

Not that there was anywhere else on offer. But God, this was so hard. I used to love this house so much. Now it didn’t feel like mine anymore, and there was no way I wouldn’t think of Gabe everywhere I looked.

He’d done a beautiful job restoring things. Because of course he had. It was just really too damn bad that he couldn’t do the same for my heart. But where he’d treated my space with all the respect in the world, he’d been far more callous with my heart. Our brief relationship—not that we’d ever actually defined it as such—had hit my life like an atomic bomb, leaving nothing but a barren, devastated wasteland. I’d thought I was done with such things after my father’s death.

Apparently not.

I’d gotten through that. I’d get through this.

Somehow.

I didn’t want to do anything big tonight, but I should at least find sheets for the bed so I could fall into it and stay through the weekend. There was leftover pizza. I wouldn’t have to leave the house. Maybe by Monday I’d feel more up to dealing with reality.

I’d just finished smoothing my comforter on the bed when someone knocked on the door. It had only been about twenty minutes since Austen left. Maybe she’d forgotten something. Or maybe she’d decided to force a sleepover, anyway. I was too tired to fight her on it, even if I wanted to be alone.

But when I opened my front door, it was Gabe on the porch.

The sight of him was a sucker punch, but I pulled the cloak of what little dignity I had left around myself and straightened, looking past him for the rest of the boxes he must have brought. “Where’s the rest of it?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t bring it. I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t,” I repeated. “Then what are you doing here?”

His face spasmed with emotion, as if he couldn’t hang on to the stoic mask anymore. “I went home, and it isn’t home anymore because you’re gone.”

I stared at him.

“My friends and I promised ourselves when we were about to die in that godforsaken desert that if we survived, we’d come home to win the hearts of the women we loved. For me, that was you. It’s always been you. But I never felt worthy. I still feel like the world’s biggest fuck up and the lowest form of low, because I hurt you. I pushed you away because I was afraid. I’m fucking terrified of what I could do to you when I don’t know what I’m doing. And maybe you don’t want to hear that. Maybe it doesn’t help at all, and it’s too late to bring any of this up. I know there’s no excuse for the things I’ve said. No excuse for kicking you out and acting like I didn’t want you with me. It was all a lie. You have every right to slam the door in my face. But if you’ll give me another chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

This was the most words he’d said to me in a single string in… ever. And I’d missed at least half of them because I was pretty sure he’d just said he loved me. My heart jumped into my th roat, but I was too afraid to trust that he meant what I wanted him to mean.

“What exactly are you saying? What do you want?”

“I want you to come home, Felicity. I want you to scatter your plants all over the house. I want you to add all the pillows and the cloth napkins and the flowers and the smell good stuff. I want to see your clothes on the drying rack, or better yet, on the floor, because I’ve stripped you down to make love to you again. A few thousand orgasms might start to make up for what I put you through.”

My body pulsed at that suggestion, already more than willing to forgive this man for being good enough to be afraid for me. I swallowed. “You love me?”

“I’m fucking crazy about you, Felicity. Please come home and be mine, even though I totally don’t deserve it. Because I don’t know how to go back to a home that doesn’t have you in it.”

I leapt at him, tackling him so hard he staggered back a step before his strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me close and anchoring me against that warrior’s body. “I don’t know how to have home without you, either.”

“Then you’ll come back?”

“Yes.”

His mouth crashed down on mine, his hand burying itself in my hair. With every desperate stroke of his tongue, I felt a little more of the hurt and pain fade away. Because this was right. We were right. And no doubt we had details to sort out, and at some point in the not distant future, we needed to actually talk about what had happened. But right this second, I just wanted to hang on to the fact that we weren’t over. That this really was a true beginning.

Feeling practically giddy with relief, I grinned up at him. “Did you mean it about the orgasms? ”

His eyes went dark. “Every word.”

“I mean, I did just put fresh sheets on the bed upstairs…”

Gabe boosted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and strode inside, booting the door shut behind us. Then he carted me upstairs, where we got started on all that forgiveness.