19th January

Gabrielle cares about my sister so fucking much and I have to admit, I love that. She sits next to me, sniffling and sobbing over the engagement video we just watched. It was a beautiful video, as much as I can't stand listening to Drayton getting pornographic over my sister, he definitely loves her and I appreciate that.

Half way through the video, Gabrielle had grabbed my hand and I'm not sure I want to let it go.

"It must be nice to be loved like that," she murmurs, staring at the blank TV screen.

I don't know what to tell her, I don't know how to comfort her. She deserves to be loved like that. Josh should've loved her like that. He walked out on a good woman and I can't understand it.

She finally lets go of my hand and picks up her phone, her sniffles subsiding. "Better text them back and tell them it was beautiful."

I check my own phone and see a couple of texts from the guys asking what I'm doing tonight. We don't have a schedule for when we get together, it's usually on a whim if we're all free. I'm never not free but I'm also not as keen to get out of the house as I usually am.

I text Cain back and tell him I'll let him know if I can do a beer later. It depends on what Gabrielle is up to. In the back of my mind, I'm concerned about why I'm basing my decision on her but I'm not going to think about it too hard.

"Just us for dinner, Gabrielle," I say, putting my arm on the back of the couch. If she wanted to, she could settle right into my side and I wouldn't stop her. "You want something particular?"

She twists her torso and looks at me, red rimmed stare and dark brown curls framing her face. "Why do you call me Gabrielle now? You never used to."

My gaze follows the soft curves of her body, the slender but supple frame. "Because you're not a Gabby anymore. You're a woman, Gabrielle. All woman."

Her lips part on a breath, the way they do when she's flustered. Whenever I look at that mouth for too long, I remember our New Year's kiss and how her lip felt between my teeth.

"Do you want to kiss me?" She whispers, her gaze curious but her breath quick.

"Yeah, I fucking do."

She swallows.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

She inhales. "I don't know."

I won't take that personally. She's going through a lot right now and I know she's feeling the pull between us, but that doesn't mean she's going to give in. Once upon a time, I'm sure she would have, but she has a daughter now and this Gabrielle has more to think about than how good it would feel to cave.

"Dinner?" I ask again.

She puts some space between us and falls back into the couch. "I can cook."

"Let's have breakfast for dinner," I suggest.

She looks at me, her expression brighter. "Waffles?"

"Yes," I point at her and stand up. "Orange juice and vodka?"

She laughs and all I feel is fucking relief.

"Listen," I say, walking over to the kitchen. The cupboard doors are open from when I'd abandoned the cleaning earlier. "I was thinking about the living arrangement. You know I've got that little office at the end of the hall. What if we cleaned it up and decorated it for Lydia?"

Gabrielle stands up and follows me into the kitchen, leaning on the breakfast bar while I scour through the fridge to make sure I don't have to go out and get anything.

"Isn't that room full of your parents stuff?"

"There's still room in the garage."

"You don't have to do that, Nathan."

It's still a bit early to start cooking, so I close the fridge, satisfied with what's there and face Gabrielle. "I know I don't have to. I want to. She could have her own little room. You could have your own room. I probably should've suggested it earlier."

I didn't suggest it in the beginning because I didn't think I would want her to settle in here.

"I'm sure we won't be here for much longer," she says. "Seems like it could be a waste of time."

How do I tell her I'm not in a rush for her to move out without sounding like a weirdo? She's been here for a week and now I can't imagine her and Lydia leaving.

"Rent will be pricier elsewhere," I shrug, not looking at her. "You don't have to rush out."

"Nathan," her tone turns teasing. "Do you like having us here? Hmmm. Will you miss us?"

My eyes meet hers. "Yeah," I mumble, not wanting to admit it but needing to be honest. "I will. Don't rush off."

"Fine," she grins, her teeth sinking into her lip. "We won't."

I'm surprised at how easy that was. I hadn't expected her to want to stay. I gesture for her to follow me down the hall. The office isn't a mess, it's just packed from floor to ceiling with boxes of mom and dad's old belongings, things I couldn't part with. Clothes, appliances, shoes, books, things that would be better off being donated. I'll get around to it one day.

Gabrielle looks up at me, both of us are squished in the door frame. "Lydia seems really happy here," she tells me. "I think it'd be a good thing to let her have some consistency and be somewhere stable instead of moving again so soon. Plus, she adores you."

I slip my hands into my pockets and smile.

"Not that I expect you to fill a role," she says. "You're not obligated to be like, a father figure."

Gabrielle's cheeks turn crimson red while she stammers over her explanation. It's a bit mean, but I don't interrupt her babble.

"I just mean, she likes hanging out with you. You do a lot more with her than Josh ever did. Again, not that you have to. You don't have to do any of that—"

"Gabrielle," I cut in, as much as I love listening to her voice, I figure I better ease her anxiety. "I know what you mean and I enjoy hanging out with her too."

I figure that means a lot to Gabrielle to hear because she gives me that same dazed look of gratitude, as if she finds it all surreal. I don't think I've ever met someone with such expressive features before.

Every little lift of her brow, or twitch of her mouth, or flinch in her cheek tells a story and I want to study every single word.

Two hours later, Gabby and I have relocated all of the boxes into the garage, which is now so full the side door doesn't open. I couldn't fit one more fucking thing in there even if I wanted to.

"Dallas is going to have to come and sort her shit out," I tell Gabby, brushing dust off of my hands as we walk back inside. "I get why she can't be bothered though. It's a bitch of a job going through old boxes."

Gabby closes the door behind her and we head up the hall into the kitchen, both of us starving from all the lifting. "It's so much fun though. You get to enjoy all the nostalgia of looking through old memories."

"I'm not sure I want to get into that with mom and dads old stuff," I murmur, pouring Gabby and I a glass of water. She lifts herself onto the bench top and sits on it, watching me. "It might be better just to get rid of it all before I look through it. At least I don't remember what's in those boxes right now."

She takes the glass from me, our fingers brushing. "Would it be harder to get rid of if you looked at it all?"

Leaning a palm on the bench beside her, I look at the cup in my hand and shrug. "I don't know. It might. I think I'm more worried that it won't hurt at all. You know? What if it's easy to get rid of?"

"They're just things, Nathan," she gently says. "They don't define how you feel about your mom and dad. I left so much behind when Lydia and I moved out of our home. It's not the same obviously but they're just things. Not having them doesn't lessen the memories."

"Why did you leave it all behind?"

"I didn't have the means to move it. Not enough car space or money for a mover. I also think maybe I assumed we might go home."

I watch her carefully, waiting for the words unspoken to appear in each micro movement of her face.

"Do you want to go home?" I ask.

"There's nothing there for us," she almost whispers, looking at me now, the weight of the world pressing on her. "Josh and I didn't love each other. He didn't have time for our relationship. I think the only thing that could tempt me back would be him committing to being a father to Lydia. I never want her to suffer."

"No one could ever accuse you of putting her last."

Her smile is sad. "She has no idea that her dad doesn't want to be part of her life," her voice starts to break and tears pool in her eyes faster than I'm expecting. "It hurts so much. To know that if she ever knew he'd abandoned her, it would break her heart. How can I protect her from that?"

"You're protecting her right now," I move in between her legs and draw her head to my shoulder. "You're doing it every day, Gabrielle."

"I don't know where I belong, Nathan," she cries into the crook of my neck, her arms wrapped around me. "I have no idea where I belong."

Right here, I want to tell her.

Instead, we stand there for a while, holding each other. I kiss the top of her head and she becomes still. If I ever met Josh again, I might kill the fucker.

"I'm sorry for crying all the time," she leans back, wiping her face with her hand.

I'm still between her legs, I want to rest my hands on her thighs, but I don't. I keep them on her waist.

"You don't have to apologize."

"I've always been a crier," her soft chuckle is accompanied by sobs. "Just not when Lydia is watching."

My fingers tighten on her waist as I fight the urge to kiss her. "You can put it all on me, Gabrielle. I'm here."

She tilts her head, watching me. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. Any of it. Re arranging your home, dealing with a bossy little girl, dealing with an emotional grown girl."

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to be someone you can lean on."

Quiet falls between us, her gaze roams my face, absorbing what I hope she sees is a promise. I can't explain why I so desperately want to support her through this time in her life, but her peace has become important to me. I'll do whatever I can to assist it.

"I might ask mom if she can have Lydia for a sleepover tonight," Gabrielle suggests and I take a step back before I lose control of the desire culminating between us. "That way we can finish the bedroom for her without ruining the surprise."

Checking the time on my phone, I see that we have about an hour left before the hardware store closes.

"I know we weren't going to buy dinner tonight but how about we go and get some paint and shit and we'll grab something to eat on the way home?"

She slips off the bench top, grinning, fuck she's beautiful. "Perfect. We should do like, a fairy garden theme and make it a little magical room for her."

"We'll need fairy lights, netting, decals and paint," I list the supplies off as I head for the door to get my coat, Gabrielle in tow.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? Like painting and that sort of thing is permanent."

I'm not sure I ever want you to leave.

Fuck, that's enough of that.

"It's just the paint that's permanent," I take her beanie out of the basket and slip it onto her head while she looks up at me. "It's no big deal."

The back of my hand slides down her cheek and then down her jaw and onto her throat, which bobs as she swallows hard and goosebumps rise on her warm brown skin. I can't stop thinking about putting my mouth in those places, kissing her until she trembles.

When I ran into Gabrielle three weeks ago, not for one minute did I think I would ache so fucking badly for this woman. I've barely had time to process it.

We go to the hardware store together, chatting about ideas as we drive. After we have what we need from there, paint, some hooks, lights and an LED bulb that changes color, we go through the Taco Bell drive thru and then head home.

At midnight, Gabrielle and I are putting on the first coat of paint. We sanded and primed the walls first. The prime didn't take long to dry but somehow I don't think the room will be done tomorrow. Not if we're going to decorate the walls.

Gabs stands on the ladder, her long t-shirt covering her ass. She didn't want to get paint on her pants so I'd been in hell for hours while she moves around, her legs on display. I'm on the other side of the room, doing my best to focus on the wall I'm painting and not the woman who is a work of art herself.

We're painting the walls a soft pale green. Gabrielle wants to do a wall of flowers. She reckons she can draw so I'm not going to stop her. I walk over to the tray of green paint, pick it up, coat my brush and walk over to the wall, being careful not to drip it on the carpet. We forgot to get a plastic liner so we're doing our best to be careful.

I put the tray back when I've smeared a thick coat of paint on the wall and then brush it along the trim.

All of a sudden, Gabby screeches and I turn around to see she's stepped off the ladder and put her foot straight into the paint.

"Nathan," she waves frantically at her now green foot. "Why did you put it straight under me?!"

"Thought you might like your nails painted."

She huffs a harsh breath and glares at me, doing her best to hide that ghost of a smile she gets when she finds me amusing.

Putting my brush down, I step over all of our bits and pieces and head for her, trying not to laugh. "My bad. I didn't think that one through. Uh, step onto that rag and wipe the excess off."

She lifts her foot, letting the paint drip back into the tray before she puts it on the rag and wipes. Once she's done, I lean down and sweep her off her feet. Her little gasp of surprise sounds far more erotic than I want it to.

"You mind?!" She stares at me as I turn side on and go through the door, heading for the bathroom.

"Yeah don't mind me, just making sure you don't walk green paint through the house."

"I could've hopped," she murmurs.

"But then I wouldn't get to be a hero."

She rolls her eyes as I set her down in the shower and turn the head on. Shrieking, she jumps back, the ceramic floor groaning under her steps.

"The water is freezing," she complains, curled into the corner as far from the spray as she can get. Every time she lifts her feet up, the t-shirt goes up, and I'm far too aware that she's wearing pink lace underwear.

I hold my hand under the stream of water and stare at the wall. "It's warming up."

As I straighten up and look at her, leaning on the wall, her hair in a mess of curls, smears of paint on her cheeks, I can't help but stare at how graceful she looks. How her long warm brown legs are as smooth as satin and her cheekbones invite the kiss of the sun and how her hair looks woven from the rarest silk.

You rarely see people right before you who genuinely look like the definition of too good to be true. But that's what she is.

Her breathing gets a bit heavier as I reach for her hand, pulling her toward me. The water is still running and I'm vaguely aware of the fact that it's going straight down the drain but the way her gaze is fixed on my mouth distracts me.

"You want me to kiss you yet?" I ask.

Her little nod is all I need. I wrap a hand around the back of her neck and draw her in, our mouths colliding. Suddenly, I'm sure.

I don't know what the fuck I'm sure about, but I'm sure.

I'm sure my body is meant for hers, just like a snowfall is meant for the forest floor, just like the sand is meant for the backseat of a beach buggy, just like the sunset is meant for rooftop views. Two things that exist on their own but are so fucking beautiful together.

Gabrielle's hands slide into my hair, her body arches into mine and I clutch her lower back, holding her tight as we kiss. Her little whimpers make me ache, our tempo speeds up and it's as if neither of us can get close enough.

Stepping into the shower, I push her back into the wall, not giving a fuck that I'm clothed and it's wet. Dragging my mouth down her jaw and onto her throat, I switch the water off and suck on her skin, in agony at the noises she makes. Her hands tug on my hair and I run my hands up her ribs and onto her breasts.

"Nathan," she gasps, her head hitting the wall as I caress her nipple through her shirt and bra. Her nape below her ear must be sensitive because she moans and her hands tighten in my hair when I kiss her there.

"Fuck, Gabrielle."

She grinds her hips into me and I slam a hand against the wall beside her head, losing a sense of surrounding, the world around us could crumble and I don't know if I'd notice. My fingers dance the length of her torso and onto the hem of her t-shirt, we keep kissing as my fingers beg the question.

Her hips push at me in answer, her panting unbearably fucking hot.

"You want me to touch you?" I mumble against her mouth, sucking her tongue between my lips, her answer is a moan as I continue sucking on her tongue.

"I'm going to need to hear you say it," I tell her, leaning back a little. Touching her inner thigh, I tease and watch her flushed cheeks.

"Touch me," she breathes, pushing herself against me again.

Leaning in, I run my tongue up her throat. "Once we do this, there's no going back," I warn, pressing my thumb on her clit over her underwear. She gasps. "I'm not going to pretend I don't think about you. I'm not going to pretend I don't imagine fucking you, tasting, touching. I'm going to be thinking about you all the damn time."

Pushing her underwear to the side, I slide a finger down her center, she buckles, her hands in my hair tighten and the shape her mouth makes when she moans is picturesque.

My finger traces feather light strokes on her clit and I watch her, my cock straining in my pants at the sight of her succumbing to the pleasure. I can tell when I hit the right tempo because her moan gets louder and her head hits the wall with a hard thud.

Keeping that same momentum, barely a touch, but fast little flicks, I groan, watching her come undone under my hand. She thrashes, her tip toes pushing her up the wall, her lips whimpering that I shouldn't stop.

"Don't— don't stop, right there," her voice is practically a breathy plead and I'm more than happy to oblige.

Her entire body writhes as I speed up my finger, careful not to lose the spot. She pushes off the wall, pulls my hair, moans and pants, she's coming undone and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

As she reaches her climax and falls into my chest, I keep one hand leaning on the wall and bring the other to my mouth, licking my finger clean.

Her half lidded gaze watches me, her lips turning into a tired, sensual grin. "No way I'm pretending that didn't happen."