his breastbone, trying to banish the piercing ache. Damn it! He had the awful suspicion Tessa's tears could bring him to his knees.
Torn between the desire to go to her and self-preservation, he shoved a CD in the player and jammed on headphones. Kicking off his shoes, he flopped down on the bed. She didn't deserve a guy like him. No way was he sticking around. Letting her depend on him, and then taking off was cruel. She'd become involved with one wrong man, and Gabe was witnessing the consequences. He refused to be the next man to break her heart. He knew far too well how much damage abandonment caused.
When the CD finished, he had another ready. Four CDs later, he tugged the headphones off his ringing ears. Thick silence surrounded him. He tiptoed to the threshold, easing the door open a crack. The house was dark.
He hadn't had any dinner and he was starving. Without turning on the light, he cat-footed to the kitchen. He'd memorized the floor plan the first night and could navigate blindfolded. Opening the fridge, he grabbed an apple. As he swung the door shut, an empty carton of chocolate-chip ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup on the counter caught his eye. Melody must have made an emergency run. He shook his head. What was the deal with chicks and chocolate?
He started to return to his room, and stopped short. Out in the dark, Tessa stood gazing into the backyard, huddled against the deck rail. She wasn't wearing a coat. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was shaking. She must be cold, or still upset, or both. His throat constricted.
It wasn't his concern.
He hurried to the living room to peek out the drapes. Melody's car was gone.
Not his problem.
Fists clenched, he marched down the hallway to his room.
None of his business at all.
He stripped, and then tugged on a pair of black sweat shorts. Normally, he slept in the raw, but since Tessa had moved in, he'd started wearing sweat shorts. If she needed him, he didn't want to get caught swinging in the breeze.
After a quick trip to brush his teeth, he climbed under the covers and squeezed his eyes shut, determined to forget about Tessie and go to sleep if it killed him.
In living Technicolor, the image of her alone on the deck, shivering and forlorn, projected on his closed eyelids. Even though common sense said she'd probably stopped crying hours ago, her soft sobs echoed in his ears. He spat out a curse and snapped on the lamp to rifle through his CDs. Something mellow to help him relax. His hand stopped on a Righteous Brothers CD. Man, he hadn't listened to that one for ages. He wrenched up the volume to ten. Snapping off the light, he flopped back into bed and shut his eyes again.
He lasted through the first song.
Two minutes and fifteen seconds.
You're heading for big-time heartbreak, Bubba. In spite of the warning screaming through him, he flung off the covers and climbed out of bed. His bare feet sank into the thick carpet, silencing his steps. His throat tight, he stood with his hand gripping the patio door, wrestling with himself. You might as well stick your head in the garbage disposal, you chump. It'll hurt less in the long run. Heaving a resigned sigh, he slid open the door.
The frigid night air snatched the breath from his lungs, and his toes curled on the cold wooden boards as he walked toward Tessa's shaking body. She was still huddled in the same spot. "Tessie?" He rested his hands on her shoulders. Her icy, quivering skin chilled his palms through the soft silk.
She flinched and went rigid. "G-go away," she whispered through chattering teeth.
Gabe burned with the desire to rip out Dale's eyeballs and feed them to him. He battled down his anger. She didn't need that right now. "It's cold. Come inside."
"L-leave me a-alone. I h-have a lot of th-thinking to do."
Ignoring her feeble resistance, he turned her around and pulled her into his embrace. "You're hurting." And he was hurting right along with her. Somewhere along the line, his objectivity had been blasted all to hell.
Not good.
Her icy, shaking hands shoved against his bare shoulders. "I don't n-need your p-pity."
"How about comfort. Compassion." He stroked her cool, silky curls. "Friendship?"
She made a soft, vulnerable sound that punched him right in the gut. Her arms slid around his waist, and she rested her