BEAU (TheLarssonLegacy#1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - BEAU

Author's note:

Did you see the new cover for Beau? 😍

...

I hand Gabriel a glass of whiskey, sitting beside Sienna on the couch to down my own. The sharp bite of the malt not even settling me a little.

The bloke looks terrible— like he almost died. It's been over ten weeks since he got shot. There's no surprise he doesn't look his best. I'm still in shock to see him breathing in front of me. It's so damn crazy.

"You need to explain everything," Sienna says, still pale from the phone call.

Gabriel surveys the room first, jaw jumping when he settles back into his seat. What are the chances he's in London right now? "What you all saw was true. Jezza shot me. The bullet lodged just at the bottom of my left lung, almost killing me."

"Is Jezza dead?" My hand seals around Sienna's at her frightened tone, stomach sinking at the thought of him breathing, too.

Sensing her turmoil, he's quick to nod. "Yes. The bastard is burnt to a fucking crisp."

Sienna relaxes into herself. "Then why did you make us think you died? Do you have any idea of how much Annabelle is hurting over this?"

I'll give him his due. It's clear the thought of her suffering is painful for him. He glances at his knees and sighs. I can see the hurt in his eyes over my sister, and it appears to be only scratching the surface of his feelings as he squeezes his eyes closed when he blindly lifts his whiskey glass to his lips to down it in one.

"I kept tabs on her. There were so many times I wanted to reappear out of the shadows, but I couldn't. Some things needed to be taken care of first. And I was put into a coma for two weeks. There hasn't been a time to announce this until now."

"Why did you choose to contact us first?" Sienna asks as she goes to stand up, walking across the room to shake something off. Her arms crossed over her body, she turns to look at us. "Surely Annabelle should come first?"

He sighs. "Maybe I'm a coward... I needed your advice first. I have zero clue about how to approach her. She almost caught me the other day. I was following her, and she turned around. Lucky for me, it was crowded so that I could slip behind someone, but I watched to see if she had seen me. Deep down, I hoped she did to make the whole thing easier. No way to know other than to say hi, but I couldn't do it to her. I took one look at her beautiful face, and it made me wish I was dead because seeing her so withdrawn ended me."

"She's in bits, devastated thinking you died," I say, still sitting on the fence between believing him and thinking there's some ulterior motive here.

He throws his hands up like he already knows this, which I'm sure he does, but it doesn't mean I can't remind him. What sick game is he playing? In my eyes, if he loved her as deeply as he says he does, then he would never want her suffering. Surely being with her is his priority?