A Sweet Man - Jaime Reese Page 0,96

reprimand for ghosting Ben on his first full week, Gabriel had ended up taking her to the doctor.

“I wasn’t on my own,” Ben signed. “You were there with me.”

“You know what I mean. I’m damn proud of you.”

Ben wasn’t sure if it was Gabriel’s words or the heat in his eyes that made him melt. Or maybe it was the way Gabriel pulled Ben’s foot out of the warm water and rubbed the ache away just as he had each day that week. There was one thing he knew for sure: this was heaven. Buried neck deep in the warm water of the Roman tub big enough to hold the both of them, he rested his head back against the porcelain edge and groaned. Moving his hands under the water, he felt his way up Gabriel’s thick legs.

He jumped at the unexpected nip at his big toe. Frowning, he aimed a glare at the man sitting across from him with the teasing grin on his face. “Why did you do that?” Ben signed, splattering a little water with his swift hand movements.

“This is about you. Now sit still while I massage your feet. You’ve had a long week and you still have to go in for a while tomorrow.” He scowled as Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him.

Pouting, he rested his head back against the edge of the tub. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the push of Gabriel’s fingers into his tired feet. With each rub of his foot, the tension eased—in his foot, his shoulders, and his hands. Maybe there was some truth to the foot having pressure points directly connected to other parts of the body.

He slowly opened his eyes, enjoying the soft rub of each toe.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…”

He expected Gabriel to strike up a conversation, figuring it was his way of keeping Ben’s hands busy and off him. But the pause was surprising. Gabriel rarely hesitated. “What did you want to ask?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” Gabriel looked away for a moment. Ben’s curiosity was definitely piqued. He touched Gabriel’s leg, hoping to gain his attention. That brown gaze slowly returned to him. “How did you…” After frowning and seemingly battling with how to phrase his question, he finally spit it out. “Two years in prison is a long time. How did you get through it without…”

Without losing myself? Without getting my ass kicked every day? He wanted to finish Gabriel’s question and help him along, but if Gabriel demanded Ben stand his ground, then he expected the same in return. He hated when people walked on eggshells around him. And he refused to let Gabriel slip into that zone with him. Whatever Gabriel asked, he would answer. But Gabriel had to ask.

“How did you survive all that time? I know you were in jail for a year, but you mentioned they had you in a separate wing. I’ve seen what prison does to people. Makes them harder. Puts them on guard. Angers them.”

“Lucky,” he signed his reply.

Gabriel’s eyebrows twitched. “Yeah, I guess you were one of the lucky few.”

Ben shook his head. “Charles Zeele. His nickname was Lucky. He was my cellmate.” He remembered sharing the small cell with the older man and how he thought the nickname was funny since he didn’t think Lucky was very lucky at all considering he had obviously been caught. But the other inmates kept their distance. One of them, scared out of his mind, finally told him that Chuck had killed a lot of people. Correction. Tortured, maimed, and butchered his victims before showing some mercy and killing them. Ben hadn’t believed him. He could have easily read the words wrong with the panic and worry speeding the inmate’s lips so much. He chose to not pass judgment, relying instead on his firsthand experience with his cellmate.

The older man had never laid a finger on him. He was quiet, guarded, and kept to himself. Except for that one instance when another inmate had attempted to steal Ben’s food tray. Ben hadn’t been able to read their lips, but whatever Lucky had said had sparked fear in the larger man. Enough so the man had then surrendered his own food tray to Ben before walking away.

The thumb pressing into his foot stilled. “Lucky Chucky?”

“You know him?”

Gabriel stared at him. Intently. “I know of him. He was plastered all over the news years ago. Accused of over a dozen murders but they couldn’t

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