KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (24 page)

Gabe walks to the sidewalk near our mailbox, looks both ways, and starts to cross the street.

I don’t know where he’s going, and I’m too overwhelmed from seeing him again to ask. The rain I hadn’t seen coming starts pouring down, the water hitting the pavement making loud, obtrusive clapping sounds.

I shield my eyes from the deluge of it and watch Gabe walking alone in the street. He stops, looks around, then moves his gaze back to mine. A small, apprehensive smile appears as he lifts his hand to wave goodbye.

I don’t think he ever saw the car that hit him coming.

Gasping for breath, I sit up and put my hand to my chest.

I can’t breathe.

My eyes open as a huge clap of thunder and a bright streak of lightning explode outside my hotel window. Through the heavy drapes, I feel the rumbles and see the flashes of light as they create a marvel of shadows in my room.

I’m in Chicago.

The dream was tangible. I can’t explain it any other way. Gabe said things I’m not sure he knew how to say. He’s been gone five years, yet I’ve never felt as close to him as I did just seconds ago.

Then the car drove by, ending his life when it did.

Jesus Christ.

Another clap of thunder cracks, and my body jolts in place. Thinking quickly, I grab my robe and look at the door of Michael’s room. I find his lights are still on, but don’t hear anything on the other side.

Without looking back, I gently open it enough to peer inside. From where I’m standing, I can’t hear or see anything.

Opening it further, I take two steps into his room and that’s when I stop mid-step. Taking in the full sight of him, I’m rendered motionless.

Michael’s on his bed, bare-chested, the rest of his body covered up to his waist, his reading glasses in place. His eyes are closed behind them, and his open laptop sits on his lap. His hands lie on either side of his narrow hips, and he appears to be resting peacefully. I’ve never seen him look so quietly content.

Walking to him slowly, ensuring to take light steps along the way, I reach for his glasses and slowly remove them. His lips move slightly, but they still soon after. I place his glasses on the table by his bed. When he doesn’t wake, I reach for the laptop next. Carefully, I close it and walk it to the hotel desk on the other side of the room.

When I turn back around, Michael’s eyes are open, staring at me with the same look he had the night before as we stood in front of my apartment.

His eyes widen momentarily, then start to close. I step closer, positioning myself at the side of his bed. Reaching over, I turn off the lamp, the click breaking the silence. Once I’m about to turn away, his hand reaches for me in the dark.

Michael holds my wrist tight as he utters with a raspy voice that I feel in my bones, “Lucy?”

“It’s still storming,” I tell him, a flash of light creating a shadow on the wall behind him.

“Sleep in here,” he demands, letting go of my wrist and getting more comfortable in his bed. His eyes roam my body, all the way down and back up again, his look of determination finally settling on my face.

“I don’t have to–”

“Lucy,” he warns quietly.

After stealing one last look at him, I move my head in the direction of the other bed across from his. My eyes quickly scan the clock next to it.

2:22 a.m.

When another crack of thunder booms outside, I race to pull back the covers and throw myself under them. I lay there momentarily, wondering if Michael’s still awake.

When he says nothing, my mind recalls the dream with clarity.

You know him better than you think you do.

It’s not minutes after that I’m finally able to relax.

But it would be hours before I’m finally able to fall asleep.

Michael

“S
HE’S STILL HERE,” I WHISPER
to myself as I turn my head to look at Lucy soundly sleeping on the bed across from mine.

I exhausted myself with work last night, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep with her on the other side of the door. As she was leaving, I almost asked her to stay. She’d been visibly shaking from the storm and was in obvious war with herself as she sat talking to me about her life. There were a lot of things I wanted to ask her, but couldn’t muster the courage. I know about her past. Anything I asked would be a lie, and I didn’t need the reminder of it.

Standing as quietly as I can, I turn to get a better look. Her blonde hair is splayed across her pillow as her body curls itself into a ball. I can’t help but wonder if that’s how she’s always slept.

Did she ever wrap herself around her husband, reaching for the person who swore an oath to take care of her?

I know she’s not alone now. She has friends, as well as her mother. And she has Corbin and me. But I don’t know if she’s ever had someone hold her close throughout the night since Gabe died, or if she ever did.

With my thoughts triggered, they go back to my wife. In my many absences, had Victoria slept the same? All those nights I spent at the office, trying so hard to be the successful husband I’d promised her to be, did she miss me?

Our marriage was turbulent to say the least, but there was a time we loved each other. At least, I like to believe so.

Gabe was a fucking fool to not see Lucy for all she is. She may not have known he did what he did, but I do and the thought pisses me off. Lucy was home alone with a new son to watch over, while Gabe lived the life he chose to behind her back.

Lucy adjusts in her sleep, pulling me from thought as she moves her hair off and away from her face, then brings her hands back down to rest under it. Although her eyes are closed, I see the faint dark circles beneath them. It’s obvious she didn’t sleep soundly, even after making her way to my room.

Fuck, I want to touch her.

I want to help her.

It doesn’t take much for me to decide I’m taking the rest of the day off, without any distractions, to spend with my family– and Lucy.

Grabbing my bag, I toss it over my shoulder and head into the bathroom to shower.

Lucy

W
HEN I HEAR MICHAEL BARKING
orders into the phone in his room, and I assume he’s probably talking to Corbin.

When I woke this morning, I looked over to find him gone but heard the shower running. To avoid feeling embarrassed and out of place about coming into his room for the second time last night, I left and went to get ready for the day.

“Yes. At least until this evening.” Michael’s voice rises with each word.

I turn to look out my window and mindlessly watch the heavy rain fall before hearing something drop in his room.

A few seconds of silence pass, then I hear the door being opened before Michael asks, “Did you sleep well?”

Not turning around to answer, I keep my focus outside and cross my arms around my waist for comfort. “I did. Thank you.”

“You hungry?” he questions, still keeping himself at a fair distance.

“Not really.”

“I’m not working today,” he informs, surprising me. “I just talked to Corbin.”

Turning around after hearing the news, I find Michael still standing in the doorway, his ankles crossed, leaning his large shoulder against the jamb.

My lips part for a needed breath once I take in the sight of him. He’s wearing a pair of old, worn Levi’s. His shirt looks to be an aging AC/DC concert tee. When my eyes drop lower, my gaze doesn’t tear away from his feet, which are bare.

How does he make even that look so appealing?

“What?” He unwelcomingly breaks my concentration.

“I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit,” I tell him. “You look different.”

His eyes light with humor once I’ve finally brought my focus back to them.

“I’m home, Lucy,” he replies, as if my statement is ridiculous.

“I like home,” I whisper, still staring at him from across the room. He can’t possibly know what I mean, but I say it anyway. I like how he looks when he’s home. I would’ve never guessed he’d look like he does when he’s so relaxed.

“I like being home, too,” he replies with only a small amount of noted sarcasm before walking toward me.

My body tenses when I turn around completely and watch in rapture as he draws closer. The rain outside continues in restless fury, blanketing the window, locking us in without a view.

Once Michael reaches me, he lifts his hand and uses his fingers to move away the fallen hair from my ponytail. I feel his familiar warm touch settle behind my ear.

“You’re exhausted,” he notes. “Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll come get you when I’m done. We can have a quiet dinner.”

Finally registering what he’s offering, I question, “You’re really not working today?”

“No. I’m spending it with Grace. Then I need to talk to Deni.”

On the way here, as he avoided talking about what happened after he dropped me off outside of my apartment the night before, Michael explained why he felt he had to come.

He told me that Deni’s been acting out, which isn’t like her. His mother is worried she hasn’t been taking care of herself, and called Michael to come assess for himself. She’s been insisting he have a talk with her.

“I promised Grace I’d make her pancakes this morning,” I explain what he may not have remembered.

On my way out of the house last night, Grace begged me to come back this morning. I didn’t know how to answer, and when she asked if I knew how to make pancakes, I offered to make her the colored ones I still make for Dillon.

Michael smirks. “You shouldn’t promise Grace anything. Not even if she baits you with those sad eyes of hers.”

“I may have promised her a double feature movie tonight, too.”

Grinning at me, he remembers. “
Bambi
first.” I nod. “Grab your stuff for the sleepover, meet me in my room, and we’ll go.”

I nod again, but he doesn’t make a move to back away.

“What?” I ask, losing patience to hear what he has to say.

“You look different, too.”

Scrunching my face, I look down and see I’m wearing the same as he is. Casual, comfortable, and definitely nothing special.

Then he whispers to my surprise, “You look like home feels.”