Read Online Concealed - A Hiding From Love Novel #2 by Selena Laurence - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Selena Laurence
Tags: Romance
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of his shoulders and the way he keeps his head lowered. I’ve never seen his body look so defeated. This is a man who has survived two tours of duty in Afghanistan and kept his pride, his cocky attitude, his confidence. Nothing takes Gabe Thompson down. Except me. I did this to him. I made him fall in love with me and now it’s slowly ruining him. Beth was right – I have to find a way to set him free. He is the most spectacular man I’ve ever known, strong, resourceful, brave, funny, and utterly beautiful. He deserves to be the man he’s destined to be. I can’t stand to be the one who interrupts that.
“Gabe?” I’m surprised at how tentative my voice sounds.
“Yeah?” he asks without turning around.
“Um, can we talk?”
He stops moving and stands, hands gripping the countertop for a minute before he slowly turns around to face me.
“So talk,” he says, both his voice and his face neutral.
I start to pace. I didn’t plan this, but I know something has to be said.
“I really am sorry about last night.”
He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. “Yeah, I think you covered that.”
I stop pacing and look at him. Normally this is the point at which I’d start bickering with him for his snarkiness, but surprisingly I see no snark on his face, and the bicker is all drained out of me.
“I was really shocked when you showed up here. I mean, I guess I haven’t handled it so well, and I’m sorry about that too. I don’t know what you want from me though, Gabe. You didn’t seriously expect me to turn my life upside down and fall into your arms because you showed up at my door?”
He looks at me for a minute. Then he turns his head slightly to gaze out the windows at the parking lot. The sun is shining outside and the rays filter through the dirty glass to pour over his perfect cut features, catching his blond hair and reflecting in tiny sparks of light. He is so beautiful it makes my whole being ache. And he is so much more than what most people see. He’s big and tattooed and rude, but he’s also sweet and funny and so fucking sexy it should be a crime. There aren’t many girls who could tell him no, and that knowledge makes what I’m doing so much harder.
He finally turns back to me and runs a hand through his short hair. “You never told me you loved me,” he says out of the blue.
I open my mouth to respond but clamp it shut again, speechless.
“When you left Afghanistan, I told you not to answer me. I told you we could talk about it when I got home. But well, we all know how that turned out. The bottom line is you never told me you loved me. I assumed you did, based on what we had, based on how I felt. I guess I came here thinking that you loved me and if we could be in the same place at the same time you’d remember and we’d work it out.”
I feel the sting of tears coming to my eyes. I’m a crier. Always have been. Marco rolls his eyes and ignores it when I cry. Gabe said it means I’m a better person than him. I sure as hell don’t feel like the better person right now.
“I get it now – the flaw in my plan,” he continues. “You never told me you loved me. I assumed, and like with most assumptions – well, you get it.”
The first tears roll down my face. If he only knew how right his assumptions were. That I love him this very moment, that I have loved him since the first time he touched me, that I have never loved any man the way I love him.
I sniff, keeping my eyes on the dirty concrete floor beneath me. “Gabe. None of that matters. Don’t you see? You only knew one tiny part of me in Afghanistan. I’m from Floresville, Texas and my family is from Mexico. I’m not Alexis, the adventurous aid worker, not really. I’m Alexis, the good daughter of a Hispanic Catholic family. You could never understand what that means. They could never understand you . But Marco? He knows me, he knows where I come from, he knows my family, and they know him.”
I
“Gabe?” I’m surprised at how tentative my voice sounds.
“Yeah?” he asks without turning around.
“Um, can we talk?”
He stops moving and stands, hands gripping the countertop for a minute before he slowly turns around to face me.
“So talk,” he says, both his voice and his face neutral.
I start to pace. I didn’t plan this, but I know something has to be said.
“I really am sorry about last night.”
He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. “Yeah, I think you covered that.”
I stop pacing and look at him. Normally this is the point at which I’d start bickering with him for his snarkiness, but surprisingly I see no snark on his face, and the bicker is all drained out of me.
“I was really shocked when you showed up here. I mean, I guess I haven’t handled it so well, and I’m sorry about that too. I don’t know what you want from me though, Gabe. You didn’t seriously expect me to turn my life upside down and fall into your arms because you showed up at my door?”
He looks at me for a minute. Then he turns his head slightly to gaze out the windows at the parking lot. The sun is shining outside and the rays filter through the dirty glass to pour over his perfect cut features, catching his blond hair and reflecting in tiny sparks of light. He is so beautiful it makes my whole being ache. And he is so much more than what most people see. He’s big and tattooed and rude, but he’s also sweet and funny and so fucking sexy it should be a crime. There aren’t many girls who could tell him no, and that knowledge makes what I’m doing so much harder.
He finally turns back to me and runs a hand through his short hair. “You never told me you loved me,” he says out of the blue.
I open my mouth to respond but clamp it shut again, speechless.
“When you left Afghanistan, I told you not to answer me. I told you we could talk about it when I got home. But well, we all know how that turned out. The bottom line is you never told me you loved me. I assumed you did, based on what we had, based on how I felt. I guess I came here thinking that you loved me and if we could be in the same place at the same time you’d remember and we’d work it out.”
I feel the sting of tears coming to my eyes. I’m a crier. Always have been. Marco rolls his eyes and ignores it when I cry. Gabe said it means I’m a better person than him. I sure as hell don’t feel like the better person right now.
“I get it now – the flaw in my plan,” he continues. “You never told me you loved me. I assumed, and like with most assumptions – well, you get it.”
The first tears roll down my face. If he only knew how right his assumptions were. That I love him this very moment, that I have loved him since the first time he touched me, that I have never loved any man the way I love him.
I sniff, keeping my eyes on the dirty concrete floor beneath me. “Gabe. None of that matters. Don’t you see? You only knew one tiny part of me in Afghanistan. I’m from Floresville, Texas and my family is from Mexico. I’m not Alexis, the adventurous aid worker, not really. I’m Alexis, the good daughter of a Hispanic Catholic family. You could never understand what that means. They could never understand you . But Marco? He knows me, he knows where I come from, he knows my family, and they know him.”
I
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