He tilted his head slightly. “Yeah. I guess.” He ran his hands over the rock, his fingertips exploring small divots and raised sections. I was struck again by the beauty of his hands, how strong yet gentle they appeared, how long and slender his fingers were, how tanned his skin was against the snowy white marble. It reminded me of the fever dream I’d had where I touched them, exploring their lines, and a small shiver moved through me despite the mild temperature of the garage.
He moved his hands almost lovingly over the stone as if he were reading a type of Braille that didn’t spell out letters but perhaps … potential. “You have hands for creating beauty,” I murmured. The words had fallen from my lips before I’d considered them. And yet, I realized how true they were.
Gabriel’s gaze rose to mine, those warm hazel eyes soft and full of some type of knowing. “I don’t create beauty, Eloise, I just reveal what’s already there.”
I stared at him for a moment, and that connection we seemed to have vibrated with an elusive energy. Is that what he was trying to do with me? Reveal some sort of imagined beauty? Chip away at all the sharp edges and rough spots until I was what he pictured me to be deep down inside? What he hoped I was?
I turned away. It was all too overwhelming. I didn’t want him to try to see something in me that wasn’t there. It was too much pressure, and he was wrong anyway. I was nothing more than what he saw. There was no beauty to be revealed. My sharp edges were there for a reason—I liked them. They protected me, and I’d be damned if anyone was going to try to take them away. “Gabriel—”
The sound of a vehicle approaching the house caused me to turn toward the open garage door. There was a red truck pulling up in front, next to where Gabriel had left his own truck. I looked back to Gabriel questioningly, and he was smiling.
An older man with a head full of salt-and-pepper hair stepped out of the truck and walked toward us.
“Hey, George,” Gabriel called, walking to where I was standing.
“Hey,” he said, a warm smile on his face. “I’m heading to the quarry. Thought I’d stop in and see how everything was going.” He turned his smile on me. “And this must be Eloise.” He held out his hand.
I hesitated briefly before taking his large, callused hand in mine. He squeezed it lightly before letting it go. “Ellie,” I murmured. “You can call me Ellie.” I wondered what Gabriel had told this man about me, who he might be. I felt self-conscious in front of him, standing there in a small pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt, my face battered, my hair ratty, leaning on a pair of crutches.
“Okay then, Ellie. I’m George, and any friend of Gabriel’s is a friend of mine.” He glanced at my casted leg. “How are you feeling? Heard you had a nasty run-in with a group of wild animals.”
I let out a half laugh/half huff. Despite myself, I liked this man already. “You could say that.”
“Truth is, Ellie, I’d like to say more than that, but I try to watch my language in the presence of a lady.” He smiled again. A lady. That was one I hadn’t heard before.
George moved his attention to the piece of stone behind us. “How’s she coming along?”
Gabriel grinned. “How do you know it’s a she?”
George laughed. “I guess I don’t. I guess that’s your call.” They moved over to the piece of stone and I remained behind, watching them as they discussed it for another moment. George. The news article I’d read about Gabriel had mentioned a business partner that had taken Gabriel and his brother in after their parents died. This must be that man.
“When’s Dom back?” George asked. There was a worried look in his eye that I wondered about, something under the surface of his words.
“I don’t know exactly. End of the week maybe. He took off two weeks from work, right?”
“Yeah. I just wasn’t sure if he was going to stay gone that whole time.”
Gabriel shrugged, his attention still on the piece of rock in front of him.
George sighed. “I better be heading to work myself.”
Gabriel looked up. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll call you tomorrow.” George nodded and started to turn away, when Gabriel said, “Oh, hey, have you heard any news in town about that missing boy, Wyatt Geller?”
George frowned. “No, not a word.”
A look of deep sadness—almost grief—passed over Gabriel’s expression, and he put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. That stance. I’d heard about the missing boy on the news when I was in the hospital. It had barely registered—it was on in the background when a nurse had been taking my blood pressure, but I remembered now. Did thinking about him fill Gabriel with memories of when he was the boy in the papers? It must. How could it not?
“I check the local online news every morning,” Gabriel said. “I hadn’t seen anything, but thought maybe you’d heard something new in town that might not be posted …”
“I wish I had.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel breathed. “Me, too.”
George nodded, his eyes lingering on Gabriel for a moment before he gave me another warm smile. “You be well, Ellie. I’ll see you soon.”
I nodded. “Okay. Nice meeting you.”
George’s truck drove away, leaving a trail of dust in its wake as it moved down the road.
“I heard about Wyatt Geller when I was in the hospital.”
Gabriel nodded, his body held more rigidly now than it’d been before.
“I’m sure it … brings back memories.” I felt awkward, not knowing exactly what to say.
“It does,” he said, and then he turned back to his rough-edged, as yet unrevealed, cherub.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hold on, hold on. The sun shines for you, too.
Shadow, the Baron of Wishbone
GABRIEL
After that morning, it became a ritual. She joined me on the patio, limping to the same chair, her coffee cup in hand as the sun welcomed a brand-new day. I watched her surreptitiously as her eyes focused on the small sliver of golden light growing larger and larger on the horizon. I loved the expression on her face—cautious awe—as if she wasn’t sure she should allow herself to fall in love with anything beautiful, even the sunrise.
Sometimes it hurt me to watch her, hurt me to see that she was so lonely inside, so sure that the whole world was a dangerous place for her. I longed to show her that it didn’t have to be, but for now, I offered her the sunrise and a safe place to watch it. I prayed that someday soon she would trust that she deserved this beauty.
It scared me a little that I enjoyed our mornings together so much, because I knew they were destined to end. She was healing every day, and soon she’d leave here.
For a week, she’d been completely dependent on me for her every need. So sick, she allowed me to feed her and keep her hydrated. So weak, she couldn’t protest when I held her as the food came back up. So soft, I felt I had imagined the hard, resilient woman who needed no one or nothing. And strangely, being needed felt almost cathartic.
For twelve years, I’d been treated with kid gloves. No one had needed me. But Ellie had, and it had felt … right. Good. Despite her steely façade, her soul was tender, kind. Although I figured she’d probably hate it if she knew how vulnerable she’d truly been, if she remembered what she’d allowed me to see while she was delirious with medication and fever.