“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.
Gabe’s hand has clenched tightly around my own, tightly enough that his knuckles are white.
“What was the worst of it?” he asks.
His voice is grave and I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. I’m afraid the expression I find there will send me over the edge and I’ll break down again.
“He stood over me, screaming that I was a worthless whore like my mom. That I was lying for her because I was just like her. That I’d never be anything but a whore.”
Gabe sucks in his breath and holds it. “And you thought that was your fault?”
I finally bring myself to look up at him. “Not exactly. But it’s why I left for New York at the first opportunity. To get away. And that’s my fault. I’ve felt guilty about that ever since. I left Mila and I left my mom… I left both of them here to deal with his shit.”
“Mila was at college, though, right?” Gabe asks quietly. “And your mom chose to stay. That was her decision, not yours. You had to look out for yourself.”
“Mila went to a college just an hour away. She drove back and forth. She still lived at home.”
I’m silent now, staring at my feet, staring at the water, staring at the sky. Finally Gabe takes his finger and turns my face toward him.
“There’s nothing to feel guilty about, Maddy. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”
“I feel guilty for everything,” I blurt out. “I feel guilty for hating him, I feel guilty for loving him. I feel guilty for hating my mom for staying. I feel guilty for leaving her. I feel like nothing I will ever do will make up for any of it.”
I take a deep shaky breath and Gabe stares at me.
“That’s why you’re here now,” he says quietly, his thumb stroking mine. “You gave up your life in New York to make up for it, didn’t you?”
It’s something that I’ve never consciously admitted, but I know he’s right. It’s a thought that pisses me off. Everything about it pisses me off. And it pisses me off that he pointed it out.
“What does everyone want from me?” I demand suddenly, anger clouding my vision. “You, Ethan, Mila, Jacey… everyone is always telling me how unhappy I should be. How I act old, how I act boring, how I’m not myself. Of course I’m not myself. I had to give up everything to come back here and live my parents’ life! Do you think I wanted this?”
I can feel my pulse beating in my temples as furious waves pass through me over and over.
Gabe stares at me, but not in surprise. It’s like he’s been expecting me to get pissed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask again, my voice shrill. “What do you want from me?”
Gabriel shakes his head, still calm. “I don’t want anything from you. I just realized that you gave everything up. And I can relate to that. That’s all. I know how you feel.”
I suck in a breath, thinking about that. He did give everything up, but his situation was different.
“You don’t know how I feel,” I tell him. “You don’t.”
He stares at me silently, taking that in. “Maybe I don’t know exactly how you feel. But I know what it’s like to live a life you don’t want. Do you trust me?”
I look at him, startled. Where did that come from?
“Yes,” I answer uncertainly.
He smiles, a gentle, beautiful smile. “Good. Because I want you to hear me out without getting pissed and defensive.”
The way he says that puts me on edge, because I’m sure I’m not going to like it. I can just tell from his tone of voice.
But before I can say that, he continues.
“We did some scary shit in the Rangers, and because of that, I know what fear looks like. You’re afraid, Maddy. You’re afraid to tackle your demons. And until you do, you’re always going to be hung up in the past.
“The good news is that fear is a choice. You can stand in front of it, punch it in the face and get on with life.”
I stare at him sharply. “You mean like you have? No offense, Gabe. But you shouldn’t really be preaching at me about dealing with my shit. Not when you haven’t dealt with your own.”
He stares at me, his eyes hardening, then softening. As if he caught himself getting pissed and stopped it.
“You and I are two different people with two different issues. And we’re talking about you right now. I’m trying to help you. Do you want my help or not?”
I don’t know.
I stare at him uncertainly, my thoughts wavering. He stares back, unafraid of speaking his mind, unafraid of pissing me off, unafraid of everything.
“I don’t know,” I finally answer honestly. “I just don’t know.”
Gabe smiles patiently as he slides off the driftwood and pulls me to my feet.
“Trust me, you do.”
As I stare at him, at his strong hands, his chiseled jaw, his wide shoulders, I know that he knows what he’s talking about. He knows what it’s like to be terrified of something, but to do it anyway. Just because he’s got one thing that he can’t deal with doesn’t mean that he didn’t face fear a million other times in the Rangers. And I do trust him.
“OK,” I murmur. “What do you have in mind?”
We walk back to the house and down the hallway to the bedrooms, Gabriel’s hand on my arm, both to guide me and to hold me in place when we stand staring at my parents’ closed door.
A tear streaks hotly down my cheek and I furiously wipe it away before I throw the entire drawer across the room, as hard as I can. It slams into the wall and everything in it explodes in a cloud of junk on the floor.
“Fuck you, Dad,” I tell him as though he were standing right next to me. “Fuck you, f**k you, f**k you.”
Gabe picks up the letter and looks at it, then stares at me. “Your mom almost left him?”
I nod, not even caring that the tears are flowing freely now.
“A hundred times. But she never did. She would tell us to pack a suitcase and to go get in the car, so we would. But we’d wait out there for hours because they’d scream and fight and then make up. And all the while, she’d forget that we were out in the car waiting. Waiting for her to be strong and change our lives. But she never did. And I hated her for that.”