The Clinch

Chapter Four: Friends, right?

Chapter Four: Gabriel's POV

I still can't believe that fierce little warrior Darryl Kallahan fell asleep in my arms like a baby after I saved her from the brink of unconsciousness. This morning I was her worst enemy, and now... She trusted me enough to completely go lax in my grip.

She looks so damn adorable there, leaning right against my heart with her tiny hands fisting at the back of my shirt as she mumbles sweet nothings in her sleep and furrows deeper into my body heat. She's wrapped about me like a freaking koala hugging a tree and it feels, like I'm the most important man alive holding this gorgeous girl.

Well... I'm not too sure on the drooling, but there's not much I can do about it. I don't even know what to do now that I told her to go to sleep. She whimpers slightly in her slumber and clenches tighter at my back. "Shh, I've got you princess." That seems to work, because a couple of seconds later she's back to dribbling on my shirt.

Collecting up our gear, I hoist her up into my arms, guiding her arms about my neck whilst using my forearm to support her pert little butt as I slowly walk us out of the quiet gym floor and towards the front desk.

"Ugh, not again." Po, the receptionist, grumbles when he sees Darryl completely lax in my arms. "I thought she was getting better. Give me one sec and I'll call someone to come pick her up." He directs as he grabs for the phone.

I shake my head. "It's no worry, just tell me where she lives and I'll drop her off."

Po gives me a worried look and I see him deliberating whether or not he should let me go. I probably don't look to trustworthy given my appearance. "Look, you've got all my information in the system, if I was lying you'd be able to call the cops on me the moment my back was turned. I promise you I'm being legit."

He gives a sharp nod. "Alright, she only lives next door on the right. Her father's probably going to blow a fuse again."

"Thanks." I murmur, nudging the glass door open with my foot as I step out into the cool night. I feel Darryl's damp, cold skin and I tuck my jacket up around her shoulders whilst striding up the path to her house.

'Kallahan' is painted proudly on a sign above the door and I smile at the thought of having family spirit like that, where you're proud to have the surname you were born with. I'm not a member of that club; my parents divorced before I was born and my mother snidely shoved her surname on me to get back at my father. They still don't get along despite the fact they've both got separate lives, but it seems like I'm the only factor they've got in the common, the fact that I'm their son.

A couple of seconds after I knock the door swings open and a rather frustrated looking older version of Reagan fills the doorway. "She's out cold?"

"Yes sir" I reply and step up into the house when he gestures me forwards. "She passed out running on the treadmill; she was running full out for about forty minutes before she just buckled. Has she done this before?"

The older man considers me for a second before hiking his thumb in the direction of the stairs and following me up. "What's your name, son?"

"Gabriel, sir. Gabriel Lancaster."

He harrumphs. "You must be pretty new to the gym Gabriel Lancaster. She does this every week, once a week, runs until she collapses. It started when she was fifteen and she hasn't missed a week since. Doctors, therapists; no clue at all what happens or why she does it, so we just let her get on with it. It weren't supposed to happen until tomorrow, but..." He shrugs his shoulders without elaborating and pushes open a door at the end of the hall which opens up into Darryl's bedroom.

Boxing and martial arts trophies dominate one wall whilst ceramic tiles decorate the opposite wall. I expected the trophies, what I hadn't been expecting were the individually colour painted tiles lining the walls with a couple of bare white ones interspersed between.

I actually let out a whistle as I continue to stare at them. A couple of them are artistic, others are scenic, but the majority are paintings of people and friends and family. They're all really good. "An artist huh princess?" I murmur down to her as I reach the foot of her bed and gently place her down, softly pulling the shoes from her feet and the ponytail holder from her hair before I bring the duvet up over her and tuck her in.

All the while, her father's standing there watching me, the feeling of his gaze prickling the hairs on the back of my neck before I turn around and greet him with a cocked brow. "You a friend of my girls?"

I harrumph. "I'd like to think so. You ask her though and she'd probably tell you otherwise." She'd probably tell him about how much she wanted to ram her fist through my face; we are definitely not the best of friends. Let's just say we're not going to be making friendship bracelets for one another any time soon.

I preceded him out into the hall as he pulls the door to a close and gestures me to follow him. I do so and meet his eyes as he leads me to the family room where I see Darryl's older brother and a couple of other dudes sitting down in front of the super bowl together.

"Ya know, you're not too bad." Her father remarks whilst giving me a pat on the back and pointing at an available seat. "You're not too bad."