Dylan (18+) [ON HOLD]

chapter fourteen: O U T

Dylan

. . .

Getting into Gabby's house is just as difficult the second time around, and just as satisfactory as I climb out of the dry and windy night into the comfort of her bedroom.

The third time, I've purchased a telescopic ladder and the hassle of climbing the tree is a thing of the past.

On the fourth night however, Gabby sleeps on her belly rather than her back; and rather than her right hand, I end up holding her left.

It's the first time I actually reach for her hand, finding it tucked close to her chest, and when it's in my grasp, I see why.

Her hand is wrapped and bandaged, and of course I have to check the damage.

I remove the metal clip from the wrap and it comes loose in an instant. The fabric bandage beneath it comes off easily as well.

I grimace in second-hand pain for Gabby. Beneath all the coverings is a gently mangled cut.

Straight through the flesh along her index-finger, stretching to the space between it and her thumb.

The skin is gnarled, but the incision is in a relatively straight line. It's stitched up with a blanket stitch I recognize as Leticia's handiwork.

I can't begin to fathom how she managed to do this to herself.

Frowning, I resolve to find a reason to come to the house and ask about it. Hell, with Stella and I separated, and that huge, empty house that feels like anything but mine—and legally isn't until we finalize the paperwork, I could probably do what Gabby did and move back in with Leti.

It'd be a hell of a lot easier to keep an eye on her that way.

With a contemplative sigh, I re-wrap Gabby's hand, fumbling to get the metal clip on before she tugs her hand back, scratching at her nose.

I smile at the face she makes, the way three little wrinkles form between her brows and her lips pucker in an annoyed face.

She rolls over, throwing a small pillow that matches the fabric scraps lying about, and giving me back my preferred hand in the process.

We both fall into a content sleep after that. Gabby in her bed, and me on the floor beside said bed—after a casual b-and-e.

The next morning, after sneaking out, I make my way around the block to pick up an entire hoards' worth of donuts and coffees and go directly back to Gabby's house.

For some reason it feels risky, as though I'll get caught having broken my routine, but I can't wait, knowing that Gabby was on the verge of waking up as I made my escape.

I knock on the door, my chest feeling hollow. Will Leticia know I've been here? Will Gabby? Is this too early? Should I have waited an hour or so?When I get no response, I knock again, slightly harder this time.

The quick slaps of slippers against the floor and Leti is at the door, barely awake, her hair pulled back from her face with a headband and a toothbrush dangling from the side of her mouth.

Immediately she looks at me in confusion, but upon seeing the boxes of donuts, her expression switches to relief.

Grabbing the one that sits precariously up-top, she waves me inside. "Thank you, sweetheart."