“I’m not telling you this as just the woman who loves you and wants to have a future with you, Gabe,” Elle hissed through clenched teeth, damning that stubborn Dawson pride. “I’m telling you this as an attorney. You confront him and you’ll just give him more fuel for the fire. You know that!”
He took her face in his hands, his expression fierce. “I’m not going to make the same mistake I made before. I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
Seeing him so emotional made Elle’s chest constrict. But if they were going to make this thing between them work—and that seemed like a pretty damned big if at the moment—there was one thing he was going to have to understand about her. “I’m not helpless, Gabe.”
Gabe’s hands dropped away, a dark scowl on his face as he took a step back, putting distance between them. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I realize that.”
“I don’t need to be rescued,” she insisted. “But you might need to be if you don’t listen to me. Right now I’m more concerned about keeping you out of prison, for crying out loud! So would you stop being a knight in shining armor for one goddamned minute and try to be reasonable for once?”
“Reasonable?” he retorted, his voice filling her office. “So you want me to just bend over and take it? Let Monroe get away with ruining both of us? With hurting you? Fuck. That.”
Elle huffed. God, the man could be infuriating! “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Yeah? Well, it sure as hell sounds that way,” Gabe barked. “You might be perfectly happy to just throw your hands up in the air and give up without a fight, but that’s not the Elle McCoy I know, not the woman I fell in love with.”
Elle straightened, hurt that he’d think she wasn’t pissed as hell and determined to do her damnedest to fight back. Did he really think she’d give up that easily? That she’d give up on him that easily? Her throat was tight as she said, “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
He stared at her for a long moment before giving her a sharp nod. “Yeah. Maybe I don’t.”
With that, he stormed from her office, slamming the door behind him. Elle stood watching the door for several moments, half expecting him to come back in and take her in his arms, to whisper an apology and assure her they’d get through this, they’d figure it out. But when he didn’t return, she dropped back into her chair and put her face in her hands.
She desperately wanted to either burst into tears or punch a hole in the wall. Maybe both. Just get it out of her system so she could clear her head. And that wasn’t going to happen while she was at the office.
She fished her phone out of her handbag and brought up her recent call list. She briefly considered calling Gabe to make sure he was okay, but just as quickly discarded the idea, deciding they both needed a little time to cool off before they talked things over again. Instead, she hit the number below it.
When the call connected and she heard the familiar voice on the other end, the tears of anger and frustration Elle had been holding back spilled onto her cheeks.
*
Elle slammed down the shot glass and motioned to her aunt Charlotte for another. “One more.”
Charlotte gave Elle a disapproving look as she removed the upside-down glass from the counter and wiped up the tequila that had spilled out. “That’s your fourth, baby girl, and it’s just noon.”
Elle ran a hand through her hair, which had to be a frizzy mess by now. Her aunt had picked her up from her office three hours earlier, but when she’d pulled into Elle’s driveway, Elle had realized she didn’t want to be at home, didn’t want to think about the blissful moments she and Gabe had shared there, didn’t want to smell his aftershave on her couch—or her clothes.
So she’d ditched her pantsuit for jeans and a T-shirt and had joined Charlotte at the pub, filling in her aunt on all that had taken place with Gabe, with Monroe, with the colossal clusterfuck that was her career at that moment. She’d thought it would help ease the ache in the center of her chest that had been there since Gabe had stormed out, but the wound was rawer now, the ache more intense. The shots of tequila had done nothing at all to dull it.
She glared at her aunt, but there wasn’t much ire in it. “I’m barely buzzed. I think I deserve a bit more than that, don’t you?”
“I think there’s a lot you deserve, Elle,” Charlotte said on a sigh. “But one helluva hangover isn’t on the list.”
Elle scoffed. “I haven’t had a hangover since my twenty-first birthday.” She made a grab for the bottle, but her aunt calmly moved it back to the shelf.
“Call Gabe,” Charlotte ordered when she turned back to the bar, sliding Elle’s phone toward her hand. “You know you’re just going to sit here and torture yourself over everything until you do.”
Elle shook her head. “I’m the last person he wants to hear from right now.”
“You sure about that?” Charlotte drawled. “Maybe you’re the one trying to avoid a conversation.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not avoiding anything.”