When I'm With You by Ross JoAnn & Lael Miller Linda

Author:Ross, JoAnn & Lael Miller, Linda [Ross, JoAnn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2009-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Gabe leaned a hand against the wall as he flushed the toilet, watching the condom swirling down the drain. Just like his life would’ve done that night if Emma hadn’t come across him and his father beating each other’s brains out. From the time he’d grown taller and stronger than Claude Broussard, Gabe had thought about killing him. But, not wanting to end up in prison, he’d mostly stayed out of his way as much as he could.

Nate’s dad, who’d been Blue Bayou’s sheriff, had tried to get him moved out of the house, but then he’d been killed in the line of duty. Nate had helped out by giving him a key to this place, where Gabe had essentially lived on his own from his thirteenth birthday.

Although he hadn’t gotten drunk again since that long-ago night of the showdown he and his father had been building toward all his life, Gabe suddenly wanted a stiff drink now. Jack Black, straight up, hold the ice. And keep them comin’.

Shit. How old did a guy get before he finally escaped the ghosts of his past?

He’d never thought of himself as a coward. But as unpalatable as the idea was, while he’d spent his entire life struggling not to grow up like his drunk of an old man, he’d ended up a lot like his mother.

Like her, he’d run away from Blue Bayou. Now, having also run away from Hollywood, he was right back here where he’d begun. Which meant that he’d spent the past decade running in circles.

Dragging his hand down his face, he took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the mattress and ran a hand down her tangle of hair. “Guess the topic just hit a little too close to home.”

“That’s okay,” she said with that unwavering loyalty that he now realized he hadn’t fully appreciated when he’d been younger. The corners of her lips tilted in a faint, reassuring smile, but her eyes were as grave as they’d been that night.

“I’m glad you didn’t kill your father, Gabe”—she smoothed a caress over his knuckles which, that night, had been bruised and bloodied—“not for his sake, but for yours.”

“The bastard wasn’t worth doing hard time for, that’s sure enough,” Gabe agreed. “But if you hadn’t come along when you did, I’d probably be in prison and he’d have been in the ground ten years ago.”

And not a soul in the parish would’ve mourned Claude Broussard’s passing. Gabe hadn’t felt so much as a twinge of regret when Nate’s wife, Regan, who was now the sheriff, had called to tell him about the accident.

“You hungry, chère?” He didn’t want to talk about his father anymore. Didn’t want to think about him. “Since the power was on when Nate stocked the fridge this morning, things shouldn’t have spoiled, and we’ve got plenty of wood for the stove. How does some crawfish jambalaya and dirty rice sound?”

“Wonderful.”

“Bien. So, we’ll have ourselves a little supper.

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