I nodded. “I know. I have to see him, though. One more time. Just to say goodbye.” I looked up. “You can come with. I just…”
I’d filled Mira in on the story once I got home. There was no other option. She’s not an idiot, and after Gabriel pulled a gun on her, she started putting the pieces together. She started to think he was the one who hurt me, and I needed her to know it wasn’t him, so I had to come clean.
“He won’t hurt me.” I looked at her. “I promise.”
“Well, you can’t drive with one arm,” she grumbled. “Where are we going?”
Mira and I loaded into my car, and I gave her directions to the hill forty-five minutes outside of Philly that Gabriel had brought me to. Only after convincing Mira that the place had sentimental value and was safe despite it being a “perfect place to hide a dead body” did she ascend the thin dirt road until we saw Gabriel’s black truck parked in the worn spot from where his dad had parked his car hundreds of times before. Mira pulled into an untapped part of the grass to the truck’s right and parked.
“I’m not leaving,” she told me. “I’ll be right here, watching the whole thing. If you need anything, you throw that good arm in the air, and I’m out of this car, clawing his eyes out.”
“Thank you, but you won’t need to.” I kissed her cheek. “I won’t be long.”
Mira reached up and straightened the flower crown in my hair. I’d spent the past few hours making it from scratch—with Mira’s help—with the orchids Gabriel had bought me. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here.”
I gave her a nod and then used my operational hand to let myself out of the car. I walked through the evening air over to where the blanket was unfolded. Gabriel was sitting on top of it. The bottle of whiskey was already totally empty and laying discarded off to the side, and Gabriel had a knee kicked up, resting an arm against it as he looked out over the city. He had to have heard me approaching but didn’t move until I was settling onto the blanket next to him.
He looked over, and we both gasped simultaneously. He was no doubt gasping at the cast on my arm and sight of my eye-socket, and I was gasping at the swelled gash at the corner of his head and the bruise shining up his left eye.
“What happened?” I asked, touching the spot lightly.
“Me? You said you had no broken bones.”
“I lied.” I hurried to move us on from that. “What happened to your face?”
Gabriel closed his eyes and leaned up to meet the soft brush of my fingertips. “I got into a fight with Alessandro.” His eyes opened again, weary and sunken. “I don’t know what happened, Stace. I just…I lost it. I saw you in that hospital bed, and I don’t even remember what happened between that and me pointing a gun at his face.”
My jaw dropped. “You pulled a gun on Alessandro?”
“Things just got nastier and nastier. I turned it on Marco, too. Then Alessandro and I were fighting, then Marco had to pull guns on us both to break it up, then Luca and I were fighting, and then Luca was nasty to Molly.” He shook his head. “We were so fucking concerned with worrying about one of us turning into my dad that we all went and fucking did it.”
He put a hand on my cheek. “Look what happened to you because of it. I’m so sorry.”
Now it was me searching for more of his touch. I wanted to lean in. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted his arms around me to erase the feeling of those that held me down. I wanted to celebrate the love we’d uttered the last time we sat in this spot. There was so much I wanted that I couldn’t have. It created a lump in my throat that was growing exponentially by the second.
“I have a few things for you.” Gabriel pulled his hand away, and I didn’t complain, even though I wanted to. He reached behind him and brought over my laptop and purse. “Molly did it to protect me. She wanted to make it look like a break-in.”
“It worked,” I reported. “The police are looking for a smash and grab robber with a
penchant for beating up innocent women.”
He went to his side again and returned with a basket. It was full of orchids and had a few roses mixed in, and at the heart, there were a couple of boxes of chocolates and a card. He pointed at the card.
“Yeah, don’t read this here. I don’t know that I could…” He shook his head, and I could see tears poking at his eyes. “There’s a check in there, too. To cover your pain and suffering.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Please, Stacy. I can’t just not…this is my fault.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is!” Tears started to roll down his face. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, baby. I wasn’t there to protect you. I’ll never forgive myself for this.”
He reached out for me but pulled his hand back. “I know that this has to be it.” The words were barely audible.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as my own emotions started to spill over.
“It has to be,” I whispered.