Gabe (Special Forces - Operation Alpha) - Riley Edwards Page 0,43

just told me he had a view of the Naval Academy—of course, he lived nearby. My second thought, when I was done mentally berating myself for being a fool, was I’d slept with a man and I didn’t even know where he lived.

That had never happened before. In my narrow, safe life back in Riverton, I didn’t have sex with virtual strangers. I dated and got to know my partner. I asked thoughtful questions about their past, I weighed their potential for a long-term relationship before I took to their bed. And I absolutely didn’t undress in front of them while they were fully clothed and beg them to fuck me. Never would I dare to plead with them to take control so I could let go and not think. No, I was always in control. Always in my head. Always thinking.

It was tiresome.

Gabe reached over and set his hand on top of mine. He didn’t twine our fingers together. He didn’t hold it. He simply placed his big, warm palm over my hand. The gesture was somewhat comforting. Like it settled my nerves.

“I live a few miles from the safehouse down on the water.”

On the water. Cripes.

“Can you see your house from the bridge?”

“Yep.”

Holy shit. Every time we cross the Severn River Bridge I’d admired the waterfront homes. They were big and beautiful. Most looked like imposing estates dotting the riverfront. They had to cost millions of dollars.

“Seriously?”

Gabe was quiet for a moment and I realized how rude my comment must’ve sounded. I was gearing up to apologize when he broke the silence.

“I grew up poor. From what little I remember before my dad died we lived a decent life. But after…” His words hung thick in the air and the first piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Let’s just say, after he was gone Mom and I didn’t have much of anything.”

A queasy feeling shifted in my belly and I muttered, “Food.”

One word that snuffed all the oxygen out of the car. And I knew this to be true when I tried to catch my breath and couldn’t. All the times he asked me if I was hungry, commented on my lack of lunch, him snapping at me earlier. It all made sense now. He’d grown up without much of anything. And his dad had died when he was young, before he was old enough to form concrete memories.

Oh. My. God.

“When I joined the Navy I swore my mom would never go without again,” he said.

No, he didn’t say it, he vowed it. His tone definitive.

“And neither would you,” I carefully added.

“Neither would I. Never again would the people I care about go hungry. Never again would I have to…” Gabe abruptly stopped and clamped his mouth shut.

He did this literally—his lips pinched so tightly they were two flat lines that served to hold in whatever he was going to say.

I didn’t know what to say. Actually, there was nothing to say. ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t an appropriate response to his plight, and knowing Gabe the little I did, he wouldn’t want to hear that from me. But I had to say something.

“I bet your mom’s proud of you.”

Gabe pulled into the parking garage and carefully pulled into a spot next to the SUV he drove the first few days we’d been together.

Nice car.

Expensive house.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was overcompensating. I’d bet Gabe had set his mother up much the same way.

That had the discomfort in my belly shifting again. I hated that there was something so significant in Gabe’s past that all these years later he still felt the need to remedy the suffering. I figured he’d long since stopped going without, yet the pain of his childhood was evident.

“She is proud but not in the way you’d think,” he finally told me. “But my mother and her stubbornness is a story for another day.”

I actually smiled at his disgruntled grumble.

“Let me guess. She doesn’t allow her adoring son to shower her with his generosity.”

“Something like that,” he mumbled and I knew I was right. “You ready to see what Delilah sent Garrett?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Garrett hadn’t shared what was on the video, but I was happy about one thing.

“I’m happy she’s alive.”

“Evette—”

“I know, I know. You don’t trust her. But after I reread her emails with a clear head I truly think she was warning me, not threatening me. I still don’t understand why she sent

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