Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,135

work.”

“That’s how you spent Thanksgiving?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t go home, and the people at the mission were friendly. After the guests were served, I had a turkey dinner with the volunteers. They even sent me home with leftovers. And pie.” Julia paused thoughtfully. “No one ever baked me a pie.”

He cleared his throat. “Julianne, why didn’t your father take you away from her?”

“It wasn’t always bad.” She began fidgeting with his T-shirt, gathering the soft cotton in between her fingers and tugging slightly.

“Ouch. Careful.” Gabriel chuckled. “You’re pulling out what few chest hairs I have.”

“Sorry.” Julia nervously smoothed the cotton with her fingers. “Um, my dad lived with us until I was four, when my mom kicked him out. He went back to live in Selinsgrove, where he grew up. He used to call me on Sundays. I was talking to him one day, and I let slip the fact that one of the boyfriends had wandered into my room the night before, naked, thinking my room was the bathroom.” She cleared her throat and began speaking quickly, so Gabriel wouldn’t have a chance to ask that question.

“Dad freaked out, wanting to know if the boyfriend had touched me. He hadn’t. He wanted to speak to my mom, and when I explained that I wasn’t supposed to bother her when one of the boyfriends was over, he told me to go into my room and lock the door. Of course, I didn’t have a lock. First thing the next morning, Dad showed up to take me to Selinsgrove. I guess it was a good thing the boyfriend was gone by the time he arrived. I think my father would have killed him.”

“So you left?”

“Yes. Dad told Sharon that if she didn’t get rid of the boyfriends and get off the alcohol, he was going to take me away from her permanently. She agreed to go into rehab, and I went to live with him.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

“Why didn’t you stay with him?”

“He was never home. He had a day job that was very busy and sometimes he had to work weekends. Plus, he was a volunteer with the fire department. When school finished for the year, he sent me back to St. Louis. Sharon was out of rehab by then and working in a nail salon. He thought I’d be fine.”

“But you came back?”

She hesitated.

“You can tell me, Julianne.” He squeezed her tightly and waited, softly stroking her hair. “It’s all right.”

She swallowed. Hard. “The summer before I turned seventeen, Dad brought me back.”

“Why?”

“Um, Sharon hit me. I fell against the corner of the kitchen counter, hitting my head. I called my dad from the hospital and said that if he didn’t come and get me I was going to run away. And that was it. I never saw my mother again.”

“Do you have a scar?”

She took his hand and brought it up to the back of her head, pressing his fingers against a raised line of flesh where hair no longer grew.

“I’m sorry for this.” He traced it a few times and pressed his lips against it. “I’m sorry that those things happened to you. If I could, I’d beat them all senseless…starting with the bastard who is your father.”

“I was pretty lucky, actually. Sharon only hit me once.”

“Nothing you have told me sounds even remotely lucky.”

“I’m lucky now. No one hits me here. And I have a friend who feeds me.”

Gabriel shook his head and cursed. “You should have been cuddled and adored and treated like a princess. That’s what Rachel had.”

“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” she breathed.

“I’d like to make you believe.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“Reality is better than fantasy, Gabriel.”

“Not if reality is the fantasy.”

She shook her head, but smiled. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Her smile faded. “Do you have any scars?”

Gabriel’s face was impassive. “You can’t hit something that you don’t know is there.”

Julia leaned up and pressed her cheek into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s difficult to know what’s worse—being hit or being ignored. I guess it depends on what kind of pain you prefer.”

“I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t know.”

She took his hand in hers and wrapped their fingers together. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Are you going to go home now?”

“Not unless you want me to leave.” He stroked her hair again, carefully avoiding the place where the flesh was raised.

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I want you to stay