“I was twelve freaking years old,” he ground out. “And she was twice my age — literally. I hated my dad a bit after that. He said in the entertainment business I’d never survive if I was innocent.”
“Gabe—”
“He introduced me to drugs. At sixteen I’d already done seven movies. I was on my way to burnout when I met Princess. I was dropping my second album and seriously starting to hate my life. It helped that I had Mel — Lisa. She’d had a crush on me when we were little. We were neighbors and all that, but I never even kissed her. I knew who I wanted. And she wanted me too.”
He cleared his throat.
Rain pelted against the window.
“I believed in true love — I still do. Sunsets still take my breath away, pizza makes me a bit sick, but I’ll eat it. I love dancing almost as much as I love playing instruments. I can play almost all instruments just in case you were wondering. It was how I passed my time when my dad would lock me in the room for going against his wishes.”
“And your mom?” I asked, looking out the window. Where the heck was he taking me? We were officially outside of Seattle.
“She loves green.” He shrugged. “Anything green. So she let him do what he wanted because she got a happy husband and lots of houses out of the deal.”
He drove over the floating bridge into Bellevue.
“I had a twin sister,” he whispered. “She died from SIDS. My mom says I was in the crib with her when it happened. Apparently she’d been dead for about three hours before my mom came in to check on us.”
My breath hitched.
“She’d been drinking.” Gabe swore and hit the steering wheel. “I hate the Oregon Ducks.”
“Okay…”
“No. Seriously. Hate. Them.” His muscle clenched. “It’s the only damn sweatshirt Princess will wear.”
I reached across the consul and grabbed Gabe’s free hand, clenching it within my own. “Why is it the only sweatshirt she’ll wear?
“Because…” His eyes were like glass, he blinked a few times. “It used to be mine. I was wearing it the night she hit the tree.”
“Oh.”
“It’s the same way with her pink scarf. For some reason the only thing she remembers is that she forgot her pink scarf — not her helmet. I don’t know why she fixates on certain things. But she has to have her pink scarf tied to her wheelchair at all times or she has a meltdown.”
“And the singing?” I cleared my throat. “Is it the same with the singing?”
Gabe took the second Bellevue exit that led to the west side. Curious, I looked out the window and tried to keep my heart in check. He was cutting himself open, bleeding himself dry, and waiting for me to either accept or reject him.
He was brave.
Braver than me.
“The minute she hears my voice, she’s taken to someplace safe, different. Stupid, right?”
I turned and looked at him, focused on his full lips, gorgeous mouth, strong jaw.
“No.” I squeezed his hand. “Not stupid. If positions were switched, I can imagine, hearing your voice would be the most soothing thing in the world. Like the quiet after a storm, the peace you crave in a lifetime full of noise. You’re her peace.”
Gabe nodded. “I guess that’s something, right? I both destroy and bring peace?”
“You didn’t cause the destruction, Gabe. You were just an unfortunate victim — and sometimes that’s worse than being the cause.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything as he drove the car around a curvy road and then pulled up to an immaculate house.
“Where are we?”
Gabe turned off the car and stared straight ahead. “Seattle was far enough away that it made sense to disappear here, but…” His nostrils flared. “She’d seen this thing on HGTV about homes in Bellevue and fell in love.”