Spark
Page 77
I mean, he’s the perfect one. Never in trouble, covering my ass when I screw up which is all the damn time.” He turned back to the sun. “You know, he got hurt right after homecoming? My fault. I couldn’t even help him. He doesn’t blame me, but I just . . .
I just . . .”
“You blame yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re mad at him for not blaming you.”
Now she had his attention. “Yeah. How do you know that?”
Layne thought of her mother, of how much she hated the woman for abandoning her family but how much she blamed herself for not being a more perfect daughter. “Trust me. I can play the blame game all day.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything. The silence suddenly had a weight to it.
She understood only a fraction of what he was talking about, but details could come later. This was the first time he’d come close to saying anything at all, and she didn’t want him to stop.
“Have you tried to talk to Nick?” she said.
Gabriel fidgeted. “Yes. No. It’s complicated.” He rolled up on one arm again, until the line of his body was almost against hers. She could feel his warmth through the material of her jacket. She wanted to hold her breath, as if one small movement would spook him and send him bolting down the path again.
“I just snapped, I guess,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I’d never started that fight, but then it feels like some bizarre turning point.” He was closer now, his voice gaining momentum.
“You know how you can trace back moments to one action that didn’t feel important at the time? But then later, you go back and think about it, and you realize one little decision turned your whole life upside down. If I hadn’t been so angry, we wouldn’t have fought. If we hadn’t fought, I never would have driven out of there the way I did. If I hadn’t driven out of there, I wouldn’t have ” He faltered.
Layne stared up at him. His eyes were wide, his breathing a little quick.
“Tell me,” she said. “Just tell me.”
He flinched and looked away. “It was the night I drove you home,” he said, his voice rough. “I was furious. I wasn’t thinking straight. It wasn’t . . . I can’t . . .” He swallowed.
“Please,” she said.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
Hate him? What could it be? He wouldn’t have what?
He’d been angry. Driving. Layne knew too much from her father’s profession, and her imagination was getting carried away again. “Did you hurt someone?” she whispered.
“No.” He made a choked sound. “No. Just the opposite.”
Well, there went her theories about hit-and-run accidents. I wouldn’t have . . . been with another girl? Her own throat felt tight. “Is there . . . someone else?”
“What?” His eyes snapped to hers. “What? No. No, Layne, there’s no one else.” He leaned down to brush his lips against hers. It brought him even closer, his chest weighing on hers.
“Please,” he said, kissing her again. “Please. I would never hurt you like that.”
His kisses felt light but heavy: desperate, as if he worried she’d pull away any minute.
“Just tell me. I won’t ” she started, only to have him trap her lips for a breathless second. “I won’t hate you. No matter what.”
He went still, staring down at her. His blue eyes were full of hurt and fear and wonder. She’d never thought a guy like Gabriel could look vulnerable, especially not lying on top of her, but there it was.
Layne stared up at him. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s not about trust. I don’t want to disappoint you.” His hand fell at her waist, securing her there against him.
She froze. Half an inch of fabric sat between his palm and ruined skin.
Gabriel paused, but he didn’t move his hand. “Do you trust me?”
She could barely breathe. Her voice came out with a squeak.
“It’s not about trust. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He laughed softly, and it broke through some of the tension.
All of a sudden, any vulnerability was gone. “You’re crazy.” His hand tightened on her waist, strong and secure through her jacket. He leaned down again, and she was sure he was going to kiss her, but his mouth landed on her neck. His lips whispered against the skin there, followed by his teeth, right against the edge of her jaw. When his mouth caught her earlobe, she gasped and arched into him, surprised at the flood of heat in her body.
His hand slid up her side, holding her there, and she trembled, warring with how much she liked it and how much she worried he could feel.
Gabriel drew back, just enough to look at her. The sun was behind him again, leaving fiery sparks in his hair. A cool breeze kissed her cheeks and made her long for his warmth.
“You still owe me a secret,” she whispered.
“I know.” His lips brushed hers, featherlight. “I know.”
“Tell me ”
“Shhh.” He unzipped her jacket.
She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
But he stroked a hand across her cheek. “Cold?”
She shook her head, but her breathing was shaky.
He kissed her again, and for a moment, it felt like his kiss was electric, like the sunlight was tangible, a blanket of warmth and sensation that smothered her thoughts. His tongue coaxed small sounds from her throat, and she buried her hands in his hair.
I just . . .”
“You blame yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re mad at him for not blaming you.”
Now she had his attention. “Yeah. How do you know that?”
Layne thought of her mother, of how much she hated the woman for abandoning her family but how much she blamed herself for not being a more perfect daughter. “Trust me. I can play the blame game all day.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything. The silence suddenly had a weight to it.
She understood only a fraction of what he was talking about, but details could come later. This was the first time he’d come close to saying anything at all, and she didn’t want him to stop.
“Have you tried to talk to Nick?” she said.
Gabriel fidgeted. “Yes. No. It’s complicated.” He rolled up on one arm again, until the line of his body was almost against hers. She could feel his warmth through the material of her jacket. She wanted to hold her breath, as if one small movement would spook him and send him bolting down the path again.
“I just snapped, I guess,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I’d never started that fight, but then it feels like some bizarre turning point.” He was closer now, his voice gaining momentum.
“You know how you can trace back moments to one action that didn’t feel important at the time? But then later, you go back and think about it, and you realize one little decision turned your whole life upside down. If I hadn’t been so angry, we wouldn’t have fought. If we hadn’t fought, I never would have driven out of there the way I did. If I hadn’t driven out of there, I wouldn’t have ” He faltered.
Layne stared up at him. His eyes were wide, his breathing a little quick.
“Tell me,” she said. “Just tell me.”
He flinched and looked away. “It was the night I drove you home,” he said, his voice rough. “I was furious. I wasn’t thinking straight. It wasn’t . . . I can’t . . .” He swallowed.
“Please,” she said.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
Hate him? What could it be? He wouldn’t have what?
He’d been angry. Driving. Layne knew too much from her father’s profession, and her imagination was getting carried away again. “Did you hurt someone?” she whispered.
“No.” He made a choked sound. “No. Just the opposite.”
Well, there went her theories about hit-and-run accidents. I wouldn’t have . . . been with another girl? Her own throat felt tight. “Is there . . . someone else?”
“What?” His eyes snapped to hers. “What? No. No, Layne, there’s no one else.” He leaned down to brush his lips against hers. It brought him even closer, his chest weighing on hers.
“Please,” he said, kissing her again. “Please. I would never hurt you like that.”
His kisses felt light but heavy: desperate, as if he worried she’d pull away any minute.
“Just tell me. I won’t ” she started, only to have him trap her lips for a breathless second. “I won’t hate you. No matter what.”
He went still, staring down at her. His blue eyes were full of hurt and fear and wonder. She’d never thought a guy like Gabriel could look vulnerable, especially not lying on top of her, but there it was.
Layne stared up at him. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s not about trust. I don’t want to disappoint you.” His hand fell at her waist, securing her there against him.
She froze. Half an inch of fabric sat between his palm and ruined skin.
Gabriel paused, but he didn’t move his hand. “Do you trust me?”
She could barely breathe. Her voice came out with a squeak.
“It’s not about trust. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He laughed softly, and it broke through some of the tension.
All of a sudden, any vulnerability was gone. “You’re crazy.” His hand tightened on her waist, strong and secure through her jacket. He leaned down again, and she was sure he was going to kiss her, but his mouth landed on her neck. His lips whispered against the skin there, followed by his teeth, right against the edge of her jaw. When his mouth caught her earlobe, she gasped and arched into him, surprised at the flood of heat in her body.
His hand slid up her side, holding her there, and she trembled, warring with how much she liked it and how much she worried he could feel.
Gabriel drew back, just enough to look at her. The sun was behind him again, leaving fiery sparks in his hair. A cool breeze kissed her cheeks and made her long for his warmth.
“You still owe me a secret,” she whispered.
“I know.” His lips brushed hers, featherlight. “I know.”
“Tell me ”
“Shhh.” He unzipped her jacket.
She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
But he stroked a hand across her cheek. “Cold?”
She shook her head, but her breathing was shaky.
He kissed her again, and for a moment, it felt like his kiss was electric, like the sunlight was tangible, a blanket of warmth and sensation that smothered her thoughts. His tongue coaxed small sounds from her throat, and she buried her hands in his hair.
