Beautifully Broken: If You Leave Part 29

"I'm a monster, Maddy," I tell her simply. "It doesn't matter if I mean to be. I am and that's enough."

"Don't say that," she snaps at me. "You are not. You're not."

Then why can't you look me in the eye?

I sigh. "Whatever I am, I'm a Ranger, Maddy. I'm trained to kill. And in my sleep, when I relive that night over and over, I'm like a f.u.c.king runaway train. It seems so real to me, so f.u.c.king real. We can't know what I'll do when I think I'm in a life-and-death situation."

This is why you shouldn't be with me.

She shakes her head, still not meeting my gaze.

"You might've been trained to kill, but you were also trained to protect. You're a protector, Gabe. You were protecting Mad Dog and Brand and the other three Humvees. You were protecting that little girl when you didn't want to shoot her. You won't hurt me."

"I already did," I insist, staring at the bruise on her neck. "And we have no way of knowing if I'll do it again, Madison."

My voice is anguished and rough and full of pain.

"You won't," she says firmly, finally looking me in the eye. The fear is still there, even though she's trying to ignore it.

Because I taught her that fear is a choice. f.u.c.k.

"We can't know that," I tell her limply. That's what I say.

You need to stay far away from me. That's what I think.

"I know it," she insists, her voice adamant, yet soft and scared. I have to admire her loyalty, even though it's misplaced in me.

I'm suddenly so tired, so very tired. Tired of carrying this weight. Tired of worrying about what I am or what I might do. I've already hurt Maddy and that's the worst possible thing. The only thing I can do now is make sure I never do it again.

The resolve feels good. It gives me something to focus on.

"Let's talk about this in the morning," I suggest, hating the way those words feel in my mouth. I hate lies. "I want you to rest. This is a lot to take in. And I know your throat must hurt."

I pull her close, lifting her into my arms and holding her on my lap. She's soft and beautiful and trusting, even as she's afraid.

"You're not going to stay, are you?" she mumbles. "You're going to leave just as soon as I'm asleep. You're never going to stay all night again."

She sounds saddened by this, even though I could've just killed her.

"Maddy, don't worry about this right now. Just sleep, give your throat a rest. Don't worry. I won't hurt you again."

Guilt, for the thing I'm not saying, weighs so heavily on my chest that I can barely breathe.

I won't hurt you because I'm leaving Angel Bay and I'm not coming back.

"I'm not worried," Madison answers quietly, her hand on my chest. "I'm not worried that you'll hurt me, Gabe."

But she is. I know she is.

Fear might be a choice, but she should fear me. I'm the most dangerous thing in the world to her. If she won't acknowledge it, then I'll have to do it for her.

You're a protector, Gabe.

She's right. I am. And even though she won't understand it, even though she'll probably never forgive me, I'm going to protect her now.

Madison takes forever to fall asleep tonight, but I don't mind. I hold her cradled in my lap for hours, long after she has fallen asleep. I watch her, the way she turns to me instinctively, the way her body molds to mine, the soft way she breathes in the night.

My throat is hot and tight when I finally ease her onto the bed and settle her into the cool sheets. In her sleep Madison is open and trusting, unafraid. It's the way she should always be. But it's the way she'll never be able to be with me.

Because I'm the scariest thing of all. The bad thing. And she'll always have reason to fear me.

But not if I'm not here.

I stand above her, looking down, unable to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. Bending, I kiss her forehead.

"I love you," I whisper.

With long determined strides, I walk from her room.

I don't look back.

Chapter Nineteen.

Madison

Oh. My. G.o.d.

I'm still in shock as I pull into the Hill's parking lot, completely oblivious to the beautiful morning around me.

The sun peeks over the top of the stucco building, making it seem as though it's glowing. The scenic beauty surrounding me seems like something out of a painting, with the rolling hills along the beach and the water cras.h.i.+ng into the sand. It's nature at its finest.

But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but what happened last night.

As I turn off my car, I glance into the mirror, adjusting the silk scarf knotted around my neck to hide my bruise. Every time I swallow, it hurts. When I talk, my voice is hoa.r.s.e. It's a nasty reminder of what happened.

I'm almost glad that Gabe wasn't there when I woke up. He's going to freak out even more when he sees the bruise.

Gabe.

I close my eyes, remembering the look on his face last night. The terrifying look of a lethal killer. His eyes were almost black and filled with the single-minded purpose of killing me.

My heart races as I remember. He thought I was someone else.

He thought I was a Taliban radical.

But that doesn't make my heartbeat slow down. Or my worry disappear. Or my fear go away.

Fear is a choice, I tell myself silently.

And last night I was afraid of Gabriel.

Just like I've always been afraid of my father.

But Gabe isn't my dad.

Gabe would never hurt me on purpose. I know that. We'll just have to fix what is broken. We'll figure it out. Gabe might think it is, but I know that PTSD isn't insurmountable. He's a good man.

As I envision the twisted lethal look on his face last night, I swallow painfully and remind myself of that again. Gabriel is a good man.

I quickly pull my phone out and text him.

Good morning! I missed you this morning. Are you ok?

A simple good morning will do. I'm not going to lecture him via text message. We can talk about getting help for him later. Tonight, after work.

I adjust my scarf one more time, then head into the Hill.

Tony is already here and I stop to talk with him first before I head back to my office. He's picked up a lot of my slack this week and I owe him a huge thank-you. And maybe a gift card or something.

"Whatever, Madison." He waves me away as I try to thank him. "I'm only doing my job. I'll help you in whatever way you need."

He goes back to stocking the bar and I head back to my office. It seems as though there is never-ending paperwork in this business.

I check my phone only to find no answer from Gabe. He must still be asleep, which doesn't surprise me. He was probably up all night.

I set my phone aside and bury myself in work. I don't come out for an hour, when my tiny bladder makes it necessary to take a bathroom break. Before I leave my office I check my phone again, but there's still no text from Gabe.

h.e.l.l. I really need to hear that he's OK today. Last night was so intense. I need to hear from him. And I really want to see him.

I decide to hit the bathroom and then head over to his house. This is something that deserves a calm conversation in the light of day. We need to decide what to do, how best to get him some help.

We've got to do that so we can move forward.

I'm surprised to run into Jacey in the bathroom because I hadn't realized that she was here yet. We stare at each other awkwardly for a minute.

I know I'm the one making it awkward. I haven't really come right out and told her that Gabe and I are together. And it's stupid. I need to address it, so after I wash my hands, I turn to her.

"So, your brother and I have been seeing each other," I tell her hesitantly.

She stares at me.

"I know," she answers carefully. "I'm really sorry, Maddy. Are you OK?"

I am utterly confused as I stare at her solemn, sympathetic face. Gabe told her about last night? I can hardly believe it.

"Um, yeah," I finally answer, my fingers fluttering unconsciously up to my throat. "I'm OK. It was an accident. He was asleep. He didn't mean to do it. He feels terrible, so let's not talk about it, all right? And I definitely don't want Tony to know."

Jacey stares at me blankly. "You don't want Tony to know what? What in the h.e.l.l are you talking about, Madison? Gabe didn't mean to do what?"

Her eyes freeze on my neck, where I can safely a.s.sume that my scarf has slipped down. Her eyes widen and she grabs my arm.

"Holy f.u.c.k. Did my brother do that?"

I stare at her numbly, completely confused.

"If you didn't know, then what were you talking about? What are you sorry about, Jacey?"

She freezes and we stare at each other, the air between us snapping with electricity.

"We seem to have a misunderstanding here," I point out slowly, apprehension building in my chest. "What are you sorry about, Jacey?"

"Well... now I'm sorry for two things," she stutters. "I'm sorry that my brother hurt you. Holy s.h.i.+t, I'm sorry. I can't... he's never... I don't understand."

I look at her levelly, anxiety causing my fingers to shake.

"The second thing, Jacey." I prompt her out of her daze, terrified to hear the answer. "What is the second thing?"

Jacey stares at me and blinks, as though she's trying to blink away this situation. It's bad. It's really bad. I can see it in her eyes and I don't want to know.

I don't want to know.

But she tells me anyway.

"Gabriel left," Jacey says simply, hesitantly. "He left this morning."

I stare at Jacey, shaking my head in disbelief.

"No, he didn't," I argue numbly. "He wouldn't. He was with me last night. And he told me everything that happened to him. He wouldn't leave now."

I finger my bruise.

Don't worry. I won't hurt you again.

His words from last night echo through my head. This is the way he's not going to hurt me again... by leaving.

"f.u.c.k," I say limply. I want to sink to the floor, to let my shaky knees give way, but I don't. Instead I walk back to my office and close the door, ignoring Jacey's questions and her pleas to talk.