“Yeah. She works there.”
“She works there? What … as a bartender or something? What the hell were you doing in a place like that, Gabe? Jesus, if you wanted to see tits, I have a whole collection on DVD—”
“I didn’t go there to see tits, Dom.” I took another sip of beer and swallowed before continuing. “I went there to hire a woman to help me practice getting close to someone.”
Dominic’s face paled, and he closed his eyes for a split second before opening them and grimacing slightly. “Jesus, Gabriel.”
I held up my hand, knowing the information probably upset him. I’d never gone into detail about why I hadn’t dated. Dom was my brother, not my therapist, and I’d let him believe my shyness and limited desire to socialize was my biggest impediment as far as meeting women went. “I’m not looking for pity. The only reason I’m telling you is because I want you to understand that I went there and I sought her out.”
Dominic sighed, still looking pained. “Okay, whatever. Why does that matter?”
“Because she’s coming to live here.”
Dominic’s eyes went wide. “She’s coming to live here? What the fuck? Is she some type of scam artist? Jesus! Gabriel, we have to talk about this. You can’t just bring some … trashy stripper into our home and expect—”
“She’s not a trashy stripper,” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s in pain—and she’s completely alone. And I’m asking you to keep an open mind and trust me with this. She was beaten up and she needs help. She needs care, and I’m going to give it to her.”
Dom grabbed a handful of hair on the top of his head and turned around, looking as if he was trying to find some calm. But when he turned back, his jaw was tight. “Don’t do this.”
“It’s already done. And I’m sorry you don’t like it, but this is my home and I’m allowing her to stay here.” I tossed my beer bottle in the trash and walked around the counter, intending on going to my room.
Dominic swore again and followed me. “This is insanity! Listen, I know you don’t have any experience with women so you can’t see when you’re being conned, but trust me when I say, that’s exactly what this girl is doing. She’s probably a druggie, too. Most of them are, you know.”
“You don’t even know her,” I said, not turning.
“I know enough to know I don’t want to live with her. And I know enough to know she’s gotten her press-on nails buried in you somehow. I know enough to know you deserve better. Jesus Christ, Gabriel, a fucking stripper?”
I turned, facing him in the hallway. I knew what Dominic meant. It was easy for people—perhaps even me—to make assumptions about women who stripped.
Drug user.
Shallow.
Uneducated.
There was no indication she used drugs, she wasn’t shallow though she put on a decent act, and although I had no idea what type of formal education Crystal might have, I knew she was far from stupid. I pictured the intelligence in her gaze, thought about how well-spoken she was. It was part of her appeal—one of the things that made her so intriguing. “Crystal is a stripper, Dom, but I hope you’ll see her as more than that.”
“Crystal? The girl who called you at work?” He shook his head, his lips thinning as he let out a harsh exhale through his nose. “Her being a stripper gives me all the information I need. I don’t want a piece of garbage moving in here!”
He was judging her without knowing her at all. “Goddammit, Dom. Give me some credit.” I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath, attempting to control my frustration. “Listen, if you don’t like it, you can move out. I hope you don’t. I hope you’ll respect my decision on this and keep an open mind.”
“I won’t fucking let you do this, Gabriel.”
“I’m not asking for your permission.” I went to my bedroom and closed the door, shutting out my brother’s hostile glare.
CHAPTER TEN
Look! The flowers are just blooming. They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Do you see them? Look with your heart. Do you?
Lady Eloise of the Daffodil Fields
CRYSTAL
After agreeing to stay with Gabriel, I slept most of the day, so weary and in so much pain, all I felt capable of doing was shutting down.
When a detective arrived the next morning to question me about my attackers, I told him what I remembered and gave the best descriptions I could. I felt numb as I recalled the attack, as if it might have happened to someone else.
And yet as reality settled in, I couldn’t deny the severity of my condition: My body was battered and helpless, my spirit completely crushed. How had my life arrived here? How had it come to be that I was so broken and lost, heading home with a man I barely knew, a man I couldn’t begin to understand, a man who both soothed me with his gentle manner and scared me with his knowing eyes? And yet as I lay there, I admitted he was also a man I somehow innately trusted when I trusted no man. Ever. It was all too much. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to sleep.
The doctor examined me at two p.m. and shortly thereafter signed my discharge papers. I didn’t have any insurance, and I knew I’d be buried under a mountain of debt I’d never climb my way out from under. If only I’d thought of that before I’d mouthed off to the three animals that did this to me. Who was that girl? She seemed both overly brave and ridiculously stupid, and I couldn’t connect myself with her. I couldn’t remember who she was. I felt like a mere shadow of myself.
Kayla had visited that morning, bringing me an overnight bag with clothes and toiletries from my apartment. She texted me as I was being wheeled from my room that she had to go into work early, but that Gabriel would be there to pick me up.
Gabriel.
Why was he doing this? Why was he taking me in when I’d been so awful to him? I recalled waking up to see his face above me as I’d been wheeled through the hospital hallway, thinking at the time that I was in heaven and he was an angel. But even in the light of day, there was something so …steady about him, something sure and solid, despite his self-professed weakness. He was confusing and full of contrasts. Beautiful, steady Gabriel with his shy smile and tentative touch. The man who had hesitantly offered me a hand-picked bouquet of flowers and blushed when I’d refused them, but then confidently told me I was coming home with him. Who was he? What did he want with me? Perhaps it was a question better left unasked.
And maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all. And that was fine, too. I’d … what would I do?
You could call your father.
No!
God, no. Never.
Anyway, he might be dead for all I knew.
“Ready?” the nurse asked, turning my wheelchair and pushing me toward the elevator.
“Yes,” I murmured.
“Who’s meeting you to drive you home?” she asked kindly.
“My … friend. I think.”
“Well, we’ll just wait by the elevators. Do you want to call and see if they’re held up?”
God, I didn’t even have his cell phone number anymore. I’d have to call Kayla to get it. And then what would I do? Call and ask him where he was? Force him to tell me that he’d changed his mind? “No.”