CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After breakfast, we went outside. Yes, it was a December evening, and in Illinois that is not "take your coffee into the garden" weather. We didn't care. We had blankets and a garden fireplace, and the fenced yard kept the wind at bay.
It also gave me the excuse to get close to Gabriel, followed by the realization I didn't need an excuse. Whenever I'd thought of a relationship with him, I'd always presumed there'd still be a barrier, that he'd be the kind of guy who didn't encourage intimacy outside the bedroom. Yet even before tonight, I'd seen signs that maybe his general distaste for physical contact no longer extended to me. Now, he was the one settling in on the ground with the blanket, his arm lifting for me to curl up beside him, his arm around my waist, holding me close.
I buried my feet under Lloergan's warm bulk. "If I buy this place, I might replace the deck with a conservatory. It would give me winter sun and semi-outdoor living space. What do you think?"
As usual, he didn't point out that it was my house and I could do as I pleased. It was like when we went shopping for his new living room suite and after we chose one, the clerk handed me the paperwork, presuming we were a couple. Which we had been, in our way, long before tonight.
"A conservatory would be a better use of the space," he said.
"We could--" I bit off the words. "And I should stop there, or it'll make it that much harder to say no to the Tylwyth Teg."
"I've been compiling a list of alternatives."
"Ways to keep the house if I turn down the Tylwyth Teg? That won't work. For them, it'd be like having your future executioner living down the street."
"I don't believe it would be quite so dramatic, but I meant a list of alternative houses, in Chicago and the surrounding area. The same basic style, with the elements you like. I have three possibilities so far."
"Let's just hope they're still on the market when I make my decision."
"They aren't on the market. In one case, the current homeowner is elderly and finding upkeep difficult. In another, a young couple took on too heavy a mortgage and are struggling with payments. The third has recently suffered a serious financial blow. With a generous offer, any of the three would likely sell."
Because all three were in a position where, even though they might not want to move, a good offer would be too tempting to refuse. One might say that was predatory. To Gabriel, it was simple practicality. He'd done his research and found me these alternatives. It was another gift. If he proposed cheating these people out of their homes, I would argue. But he wouldn't. He'd suggest a fair--if cold--bargain that would push the homeowners to a choice they'd have to make eventually.
So I said, sincerely, "Thank you. That helps. But I do need to make that choice soon. The problem is that I don't even know how to begin."
"You shouldn't have to."
I shifted under his arm. "I keep thinking that, and then I feel like a two-year-old stomping her feet and shouting that it isn't fair. Why me? Why Matilda? What did she do to deserve this?"
"Gwynn caused the problem, and Matilda is forced to resolve it."
"I don't mean--"
"The schism began when he made the pact with Arawn and then broke it, only to worsen matters by not confessing to either wronged party."
"They all shoulder their share of the blame."
"But not equal shares. By far the smallest portion goes to Matilda, whose only fault seems to lie in the fact she chose a lover. Which is her right."
"Maybe it's not that she was wrong to choose--it's that she did choose and so she needs to do it again. Not a punishment but a responsibility. I--"
Lloergan leapt up and raced to the gate.
I rose as she whined. "I'll open it for you," I said as I walked over. "But if there's someone--or something--out there..."
She whined again, her whole body trembling, tail thumping. Not fear--excitement.
That's when I caught the faint yet unmistakable sound of a Harley.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I heard that motor and, like Lloergan, I felt a spark of joy. Ricky was back.
Then I looked at Gabriel, walking toward me, his gaze turned toward the driveway, hearing the same sound I did.
"We--" I began, and there was this moment where I almost said we should go inside. Leave Lloergan and go inside and turn out the lights and maybe Ricky would think we'd gone to sleep. Forget the fact that it was only eight-thirty at night. Forget that he had a key. Most of all, forget that we had done nothing wrong.
As Lloergan took off, Gabriel held the gate open and turned to me.
"Go on inside," he said. "I'll speak to him."
I shook my head. "No, I should--"
"Yes, you're the one who should break it to him, and to have me do it smacks of chauvinism--as if I've 'taken' you from him. Under any other circumstances, I would agree. But this isn't any circumstances, and I..." He swallowed, the slightest bob of his Adam's apple. "I need to do this."
He meant he needed to be the one to tell Ricky because Gwynn hadn't told Arawn. We'd vowed not to repeat those mistakes.
"Tell him I--" I began.
Then Ricky turned into the drive, Lloergan racing behind him. He saw me and raised a hand in greeting, and to run inside without saying hello would have meant something was wrong. That I was ashamed and had to flee.
"Say hello," Gabriel murmured. "And then tell him you're going to make coffee."
"Right. Coffee to the rescue." I tried for a smile, and then realized I had to find one--not just for Ricky, but for Gabriel, who kept sneaking looks my way, every one of them asking if my unease might be regret.
"I want things to be okay," I said, and I wasn't sure if that meant anything at all, but he nodded and said, "They will be. Nothing will change. Ricky's not going anywhere."
I feared he would, no matter how clear he'd been that our separation wasn't a test, that he understood how I felt about Gabriel. Despite that, implicit in our breakup had been the unspoken understanding that if Gabriel never became an option, Ricky was still there.
Ricky swung from his bike, petting Lloergan with one hand as he pulled off his helmet with the other.
As I walked toward him, I remembered all the other times he'd come home from business. I'd see him and feel a rush of desire, reminded of exactly how good he looked. Today, though, what I thought wasn't how good he looked, but how familiar. A shot not of lust but of joy.
Ricky's home, and I can't wait to talk to him.
Because that had always been the most important thing. Our friendship. The ease and comfort of that friendship. With Gabriel, I could have deep and challenging and infuriating conversations. Ricky was the guy I could just kick back with, relax and chatter and never tire of it.
"Didn't I just talk to you in Miami a few hours ago?" I said.
He checked his watch. "Six hours ago. I raced to catch a flight home right after we talked. I know it was tough, managing the current crises without me."
"Uh..."
He turned to Gabriel. "She's dumbstruck with gratitude. And I'm sure that complete lack of expression on your face masks incredible relief that I'm here to save the day."
"I appreciate..." Gabriel began slowly.
Ricky thumped Gabriel on the back as he passed. "I'm kidding, obviously. Liv's trying to think of a comeback that's suitably sarcastic but not actually cruel. I know you guys didn't need me. But I can help, so I want to. Plus Lloe needs me home. Don't you, girl?"
He scratched the cwn's head as she accompanied him up the front steps.
"I need to speak to you," Gabriel said.
"Yep, we all need to talk. Liv's update was kinda succinct. Can we do that someplace that's a little warmer? I could also really use a drink, too."
"Right," I said. "Let me do that. You and Gabriel can talk upstairs."
"Sure..." Ricky said. "Or we could talk in the parlor, while you pour the menfolk their drink."
"I'd rather speak in private," Gabriel said.
"Ah, let me guess. It's about Liv."
Gabriel went still.
Ricky glanced at me. "It's one of those conversations where Gabriel and I discuss how worried we are for your safety, which we know better than to say in front of you because it makes us sound like overprotective cavemen." He opened the door. "Let's talk in the parlor. Riding in December is not warm. I'm going to get a fire--"
He stopped in the parlor doorway. That's when I saw the champagne glasses, the tangle of blankets and scattered pillows. And the clothing. My shirt and jeans. Gabriel's trousers. My bra. My panties. His boxers.
"Okay, then," Ricky said. "Well..." He turned to Gabriel. "I guess I know what you were going to talk to me about."
"I'm sor--"
"No, it's fine. I said it was fine, right? Told you both it was absolutely fine. So it is." He shoved his hands in his pockets, still staring at the discarded clothing. "Yep, just fine."
I pulled the parlor door shut. "The last time we spoke, Gabriel and I hadn't--"
"No, I get it. There was nothing to tell six hours ago. And now there is."
"I'll get you a beer. We do have things we need to talk about. I could really use your help getting answers from Ioan, especially about the sluagh. I think he might have--"
"Actually, you know what? I'm going to skip the drink. It's been a long day. Long flight, too. I should have just driven out in the morning. I'll get some sleep, come back in the morning, and we can talk."
He didn't give us time to respond. Just turned on his heel and walked out the front door. Lloergan gave a sharp bark of alarm and raced to the door. I put my hand on the knob, but Gabriel laid his on mine, and when I looked over, he shook his head and then nodded at the hound. Open the door and Lloergan would take off after him, and I wasn't even sure Ricky would notice.
"Distract her, please," I said. "I'll go out the back--"
The roar of the Harley's motor cut me short. I hurried into the parlor, but before I could get to the window, tires squealed as the bike tore off.
--
I stood at the parlor window, listening until I couldn't hear the motorcycle, until I was sure it was gone, sure Ricky was gone. Lloergan whined beside me. I laid my hand on her head.
"I'm sorry, girl. We'll take you home as soon as we can. He's just...busy."
She lumbered off to lie by the fireplace. I turned to Gabriel, standing behind me.
"It wasn't ever going to work, was it?" I didn't wait for an answer, just thumped down on the sofa. "We were fooling ourselves. Thinking we were better than them, smarter than them. Bullshit. The truth is that it can't work. Someone's going to get hurt."
Gabriel lowered himself beside me. "Not just someone. Everyone."
"But mostly him."
"Yes, mostly him."
Tears welled. "He doesn't deserve it. He did absolutely nothing wrong."
Silence stretched through long minutes. Then Gabriel said, his voice low, "If you realize you've made a mistake, I'm not going to pretend I'm fine with that. But I would understand. This was the only way for you to know."
"The only mistake I made was in thinking we might be able to work past it. And now..."
"He needs time."
More silence. Then Gabriel said, "He needs privacy to react, Olivia. He thought he'd be fine with it. He is not fine with it. He realizes that now, and he doesn't want to get angry in front of us when he promised otherwise."
I said nothing.
"If he isn't ready to face us tomorrow, he'll call," Gabriel said. "Then he'll come around as soon as he's ready. He knows we need him."
"But that's what I don't want. If he's hurt and angry, and he's not okay with this, yet he feels obligated to stick around because of Arawn and the Cwn Annwn? That's even crueler."
"No, it's a reason to come back and focus. And doing that will give him the chance to see whether we can get past this."
--
I was doing the records search for a case when Lloergan's nails scrabbled against the linoleum. She didn't race to the door but stood in place, whining and shifting from paw to paw, looking anxiously back at me. A moment later, a headlight lit up the front window and the sound of Ricky's Harley vibrated through the house.
I glanced at Gabriel. He'd looked up from his laptop and turned to listen. He motioned for me to go to the door. I did, but I waited behind it until the knocker sounded.
When I pulled the door open, Ricky stood there, hands in his pockets.
"I'm an ass," he said.
"No, you--"
"Nope, I was an ass. Don't rob me of my moment. I shouldn't have taken off." He looked down at Lloergan at my side. "On you, either. I'm sorry."
"I should have warned you."
A wan smile. "How? Text me a heads-up the moment you realized something was going to happen between you and Gabriel? Or right after it did? Pretty sure that wasn't exactly a priority. I'm the one who showed up unannounced. Gabriel tried to take me aside right away. Even if he'd managed that, I'm not sure I'd have reacted any better. It's like seeing a right hook coming. You think you're prepared for it, but you're just not. You can't be." He paused and made a face. "My analogies don't ever get better, do they?"
"They make sense to me."
The smile touched his eyes. "That's what matters." He pulled his hands from his pockets. "Can we talk? You and me? Go for a walk or something?"
"I'm kind of under house arrest," I said. "Until the elders figure out what's up with the sluagh."
"Go on," Gabriel said, walking up behind me. "Don't go far and don't be long, please, but you'll be fine."
I nodded, and as I stepped out, Lloergan looked from Ricky and me to Gabriel.
"Better stay there," Ricky said to the hound. "I'll be back. I promise."
She grunted and returned to Gabriel.
As we walked down the drive, Ricky looked at his bike. "Could we...? Just outside town."
I was about to say that was fine. Then I had a flash of the night Matilda died, of her running to Arawn, Gwynn left behind as Matilda rode off with Arawn.
I glanced back.
Gabriel stood in the doorway. He nodded toward the bike. "Go on. Just not far, please."
"Twenty minutes tops," Ricky called. "And we'll be just outside the town limits, with our phones on."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
We turned down the first country road and rode only until Ricky could pull over. Then we walked into the forest. We didn't go out of sight of the road. Just found a fallen tree and sat on it.
"I'm not going to say that was easy," he said after a moment. "Looking through that doorway. Seeing..."
"I'd completely forgotten that was--"
"I know. And I knew it was coming. I've always known it was coming, no matter how much you doubted it. But I wasn't ever going to be ready. I see that now."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't, Liv. Please. You have nothing to apologize for, and it only makes me feel bad, knowing you feel the need to say it. You don't. So I'm just going to talk for a few minutes, okay?"
I nodded.
"You and I..." He shifted on the log. "I don't know where we were going. Nowhere, if I'm being honest. If I look ten years down the road, where would we have been? Me as leader of the Saints, and you as the wife of a motorcycle gang leader, with the stigma of that, the danger of that?" He shook his head. "It isn't the life for you, and you'd be miserable. So what's the alternative? I quit the club? You'd never let me do that because then I'd be miserable. Where we were? It was fucking fantastic. But it didn't have a future."
He looked at me. "What we have now is just as good, and it has a future. I'm gonna miss what we had. I do miss it, every damn day. But I'd miss not having you in my life a hell of a lot more."
"Ditto."
He smiled. "Good." A quiet moment. Then he glanced over. "Do you regret it? Us being together?"
"Never. We had to try. We had to know."
"That's what Arawn never got. He knew Matilda loved him, a
nd he knew it wasn't in the same way she loved Gwynn, yet he couldn't help thinking it was only different because Gwynn got his chance, and if Arawn had, things would have been different. He was wrong. Matilda wanted to be with Gwynn. You want to be with Gabriel. You aren't her, and he's not him, but what you each are feels the same way. If that makes any sense."
"It does."
"So..." His gaze dropped to my ankle and I knew he was thinking of the tattoo there, the moon for Arawn, for him. "I'll understand if you want that removed."
I looked at his forearm, where he had a small tattoo of the sun and moon entwined. Matilda's symbol. "Do you want yours removed?"
"Course not. I knew when I got it that I almost certainly wasn't going to keep you. It's a marker in my life, for something significant. You were. You still are. I hope you always will be. The tattoo stays."
"Ditto," I said. "To all of that."
--
Gabriel had cleaned the parlor while we were gone. We were in there now, with coffee and Rose's cookies, talking about the sluagh and Seanna and where we'd go from here. It wasn't until it began snowing--in the parlor--that I realized I'd drifted off to sleep.
In my dream, we were still on the sofa, me sitting sideways with my back against Gabriel, Ricky in the opposite corner, sprawled with his head propped on a pillow as he talked. And it was snowing. Not pretty little flakes but huge gobs of snow, and I was getting annoyed because it was piling up, and then I couldn't hear Ricky because, well, snow.
When I reached out to brush the flakes away, my fingers touched paper instead. Small scrolls rained down like clumps of snow. I unrolled one to see a name.
"Greg Kirkman?" I said. "Who's Greg Kirkman?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Gabriel said, almost muffled by the paper piling around him.
"Um, yeah, that's what I said." I took another scroll, opened it, and read the same two words. And then another and another.
"Who the hell is Greg Kirkman?" I said.
Gabriel sighed, setting the paper fluttering. "Yes, exactly."
"No, really, I'm asking you guys."
Ricky brushed the drift of papers away from his face. "Um, no. That's your job, right? You were supposed to--"
"Shit!"
I jolted awake, my hands brushing aside imaginary papers. "I forgot to research Greg Kirkman."
In answer, I got Ricky's snores. He was where he'd been in the dream, slouched in the corner of the sofa. I was curled against Gabriel, his arm around my waist.