Falling into Exposure (Falling #2)

His eyes grow sympathetic in response to my words. “What about your mom? Where is she?”


“She passed away when I was young,” I mumble, feeling stupid for even bringing it up.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, reaching for my hand across the table.

The simple gesture makes me emotional again, and the words spill from my mouth before I can stop them.

“She was Italian, and she made some kick ass food. My Dad loved it. He used to talk about her food for years, right up until the day he died.”

“Both your parents are gone?” he frowns.

“Yes.” I choke out a smile. “But it all seems like so long ago now.”

“Still, I can’t imagine being so young and not having your parents around.”

“I was young when my mom died,” I say. “I don’t remember her very well, but I remember how much she loved me. I knew she would have done anything for me.”

“What about your Dad?” he asks softly.

“My relationship with my father was complicated,” I say. “He loved me, but my mom’s passing was very hard on him. He slipped into a depression after she died and everything changed. He started drinking a lot, and it went on for years.”

I don’t know why I’m telling him all of this, but it feels good to get it off my chest. The conversation Alanna and I had today is weighing heavily on my mind. The possibility of staying is a fantasy I can entertain, at least for tonight.

“And then he stopped drinking?” Gabriel prods me on.

“One day he did,” I say, recalling it clearly in my memory. “Everything changed, just like that. Dad came home, and he was so happy. He was smiling. I hadn’t seen him smile in so long. And he kept smiling after that, for a couple months. Then he introduced me to Eleanore.”

“Eleanore?”

“Yes, Dad brought home Eleanore. She was my step mom.”

“Oh,” Gabriel says, surprised. “Did you get along with her? Is she still alive?”

“No,” I say flatly. “She hated me. And yes, she is still alive.”

“I see.” He takes in my weary expression, deciding not to pursue that line of questioning.

“So no brothers or sisters then?”

“No, just me. Although, I do consider Alanna to be like a sister.”

“Ah yes.” He nods. “I can tell you two are close. How did you meet?”

I freeze for a moment, considering whether or not I should tell him this. Alanna doesn’t mind people knowing her story, but it isn’t her I’m embarrassed for. But then I remember him opening up to me about his brother living at the homeless shelter, and I realize he could probably understand more than I give him credit for.

“You can tell me,” he urges.

“I met her at a homeless shelter in Texas,” I say nervously.

Gabriel’s face pales, and I can tell I’ve shocked him. “You were staying in a homeless shelter?”

“Yes,” I reply lightly, trying to inject some humor into the situation. “At the time I was. Before that, it was tents down by the river. But I’ve moved onto seedy apartments now, so I’m good.”

“Jesus, Victoria.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea. Is it an issue of money?”

“No,” I say firmly. “I have money, Gabriel. Even back then, I had money. But I was young and stupid, and couldn’t even find someone who would take it without an ID. So, I started staying in shelters. And that was when I found Alanna. She was beaten pretty badly when she came in, by her husband… the cop.”



The waiter appears with two piping hot plates of Gnocchi Alla Rosetta, setting them in front of us. I dig in gratefully, thankful for the interruption.

“I know what you’re doing.” Gabriel smiles slyly as he watches me eat.

“Eating?” I laugh, my mouth half full of food.

“No, you’re shutting me out again. But someday I want to hear the rest okay?”

I nod in annoyance. It seems nothing gets past Gabriel Maddox. But I manage to steer the conversation back to his prospective business, and he lights up as he talks about it.

By the time we leave the restaurant, it’s dark outside. I can’t believe we just talked for two whole hours. It feels nice and comforting to share a small part of me with him. As we walk back to the apartment, he puts his arm around my shoulders, warming me just like I imagined.