And then I heard it, the voice from my nightmares, coming from inside my head. The old woman screaming shrilly, “id-hab-bee-in-who-nah!”
The front door opened, and I stumbled as I took a step back. A hand reached out, steadying me, and as Gabe helped me up, I realized with some dismay that I didn’t remember knocking. I took the knocker in my hands, but the house had distracted me before I could do anything more.
“Mara?” Gabe asked, holding my arm warmly in his strong hands. “Is everything okay? I thought I wasn’t picking you up for another two hours?”
“No, you’re right. I just … I wanted to see you.” I tried to smile, but everything felt off, like I was just waking up from a dream I couldn’t remember.
I stared at his crimson-red front door and the cast-iron door knocker.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked, and looked up at Gabe.
“I thought I heard someone outside,” he replied vaguely. “You’re soaking wet. Why don’t you come inside and dry off?”
I followed him into his house, trying to shake off the increasing chill growing in my chest. The last time I’d been here had been in the middle of Selena’s party, and I’d been doing my best to take in the full beauty and opulence of the mansion by stealing glances around party guests.
“I’ll grab you a towel,” Gabe offered, leaving me to stand dripping water onto the hardwood floor.
Gabe returned a moment later and draped a thick fluffy towel around my shoulders before handing me another for my hair.
“Who decorated your house?” I asked Gabe as I dried my hair.
“My mom, mostly, but Selena helped a bit.”
“It’s so stylish and hip,” I commented as I spied a Jackson Pollock painting hanging in the grand entry. “Whoever decorated like this seems like they’d have a very cosmopolitan sensibility.” I paused. “One that clashes with the way of life down here.”
There was clearly a culture clash growing inside this house. The crown molding and antique chandeliers contrasted sharply with the furniture in bold primary colors and modern art. It was like a mashup of Pee-wee’s Playhouse and Gone with the Wind.
“I think my mom would’ve been happier in New York,” Gabe admitted.
“Then why did you move back here?”
Gabe let out a deep sigh. “The Brawley legacy.” He looked around the entry at the grand staircase and refurnished fixtures. “This house has been in our family for nearly two centuries. My mom couldn’t let it go.”
“Well, I’m glad,” I said. “If she had, you wouldn’t be here with me now.”
He looked at me then, his deep golden eyes meeting mine, and I saw a heat in them that I felt reflecting in my own. It wasn’t lust or the hunger I felt when he kissed me or even the way my pulse quickened every time he was near.
It was something deeper. The comfort that I found in his presence and the way my smiles felt easier when he was around. The way I wanted to know everything about him, and how I wanted to tell him everything about me, even the things that I’d never told anybody.
I realized that’s why I’d come over here today. Everything about today had felt off and wrong, and I knew that Gabe would make me feel better, safer, happier.
He reached out, taking my hand in his, and his skin felt even warmer than normal, nearly scalding.
“You’re freezing!” His eyes widened with alarm. “At the risk of this sounding like a line, I think you should get out of those clothes.” I arched an eyebrow, so he added, “I’ll throw your dress in the dryer, and in the meantime, you can put on some of my warm, dry clothes.”
I smiled. “That sounds fair.”
Gabe took a step back toward the staircase, still holding my hand as he did. “My clothes are upstairs in my room.”
“Why do I feel like you’re always looking for excuses to get me into your bedroom?” I teased.
“Maybe because I always am,” Gabe admitted, making me laugh again.
He led me to his spacious bedroom, where the wallpaper was carefully concealed with a multitude of band posters. His bed was unmade, hidden beneath a pile of blankets and pillows. The blue teddy bear I’d won him sat on his dresser next to his Nintendo, causing me to smile.
With his back to me, he rummaged through his closet looking for something suitable for me to wear. I pulled my dress up over my head, and since it was sopping wet, I didn’t want to just drop it on his floor.
“So I think this will—” He started turning around, holding a T-shirt in his hand, but then he saw me standing in my white bra and panties, and he just stopped, gaping at me.
Then he shook his head and lowered his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t know you’d already taken off your dress.”
“Don’t apologize.” I laughed. “I knew you were right there when I took my dress off.”
He lifted his eyes slowly, as if expecting there to be some kind of trick, but when I didn’t freak out, he brightened up and said, “Hey, there’s your other tattoo.”
I glanced down at the tattoo that was scrawled across my abdomen in large bold letters.