“It’s not about watching over me, Gabriel. It’s about . . .”

I trailed off as I glanced up at him, seeing that same blank expression. It’s about support. Having someone to talk to. A shoulder to cry on if I need it. Because I might look okay right now, but I’m not. I’m really not. And you don’t see that. You’re just relieved that I’m not collapsing in tears on the sidewalk.

“I would like to call Ricky,” I said, slowly and firmly.

“I can’t stop you, but I don’t see the point, unless you’re trying to antagonize Don. I have no idea what the Saints are doing—the less I know, the better—but Ricky is very concerned about the situation with James. If he didn’t feel he needed to handle this with the club, he’d be with you. You don’t need to call him, so you shouldn’t.”

I stared at him. He frowned back.

You don’t get it. You can’t get it.

I started toward the rental car without another word.

—

I wished I had more gum. My jaw ached from chewing that entire package, and I think my stomach would have revolted at the merest hint of spearmint, but I desperately wanted something, anything, to do. Also, I wanted a drink. Maybe three. As we stopped at a light, Gabriel caught me glancing longingly at a bar.

“Would you like . . . ?”

I turned away quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

He continued driving, and I tried to relax. My fingers itched to pick up my phone and text Ricky, but Gabriel was right. We were going to the cabin tomorrow. I could wait.

When the car stopped, Gabriel’s door clicked open and I looked about, but the only open shop I could see was a corner store. When Gabriel indicated I should get out, I shook my head.

“I’ll wait,” I said. “Oh, but if you could grab gum to replace Lydia’s . . .”

He frowned. Then he noticed the corner store. He pointed farther down the road. I could make out flashes of neon and a crowd on the sidewalk. When I put down my window, I caught the thump of music.

“I don’t need a drink.”

“Yes, but you’d like one. Come on.”

—

I’m partial to small pubs, though I’ll make an exception for a good blues bar. Quiet—that’s the key. This place had nineties pop music cranked so loud I could feel my fillings quivering.

Gabriel paused at the entrance and peered back down the street, as if expecting other options to miraculously appear.

“This seems . . . loud,” he said, and although I had to read his lips to understand him, I swore I could hear the bewilderment in his voice, as if “loud” and “bar” were not words he expected to go together. Other words that didn’t go together? Gabriel and alcohol. Gabriel and socializing. Two more I suspected didn’t fit? Gabriel and bars.

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” he said.

“It’s fine.”

As we walked in, I realized this was what I needed—not the alcohol but the bar itself. The anonymity and the darkness and the loud music that saved me from having to talk.

I ordered Scotch, neat. Gabriel got a coffee. And that was the capper on my evening. Gabriel sees alcohol as a crutch. He knows that’s why I don’t like to drink in front of him. So if I have one, so does he, even if he doesn’t finish it. Tonight he brought me to a bar, his idea, after I refused twice, and now he was going to drink a goddamn coffee while—

Fuck it. Just fuck it. Let him have his coffee. Let him judge me. I downed my drink and then ordered another, and didn’t even glance Gabriel’s way. Between drinks, I texted Ricky to let him know everything was fine. He replied that he wanted to talk. I told him I’d call before bed.

I was halfway through my second drink when Gabriel apparently got bored. One minute he was staring at nothing in particular and the next he was on his feet, three paces away before he remembered he wasn’t alone. He turned and motioned that he was stepping away. I thought he was heading to the restroom. Instead, he went outside, maybe for fresh air, maybe as a hint for me to drink faster. Didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Gabriel had been gone about five minutes when a guy waltzed over and swung into his seat.

“Taken,” I said, motioning at the empty coffee cup.

He picked up Gabriel’s mug and set it on the next table. “Not now.”

I looked around, assuring myself that there was, indeed, no shortage of young, attractive women who looked a whole lot more welcoming than I did.

He leaned across the table. “I was walking to the bar, saw you sitting here, and couldn’t believe this seat was actually empty.”

“Because it wasn’t five minutes ago.”

“Then I got a good look at you, and I figured it out.” A big flash of glowingly white teeth. “I’m guessing there aren’t many guys with the balls to sit in this chair, considering who you are.”

I looked at him, blank-faced. Then I stood. He grabbed my wrist, pinning it to the table, gripping it so tight I winced. I was about to yank my arm away when a hand grasped his fingers and peeled them off.

The guy looked up at Gabriel. Then he leapt up, swinging. Gabriel caught the blow and threw him onto the dance floor.

Gabriel pointed at my empty glass. “Do you want another?” Behind him, the guy had gotten to his feet. He glowered at Gabriel and then stalked off.

Gabriel asked again. “Would you like another?”

I stared at him. Then I shook my head, threw a twenty on the table, and walked out. Gabriel followed. He didn’t say anything. Even when the noise of the bar faded enough to talk, he acted as if nothing had happened. I got in the car and we went back to his place, without a word exchanged.