GABRIEL
I spent the rest of the morning walking a tightrope, one carefully measured step at a time.
Every instinct inside me snarled for the opposite, to reach for her, smell her, pull her close until the ache in my chest stopped feeling like a hollowed-out wound. But she needed space. She needed some quiet time to sort through whatever storm I’d dragged her into.
And I would not be the reason she ran.
So I moved around her like a ghost, careful not to linger too close or look too long. Still, my gaze found her without permission.
Emma decorating was… unfairly beautiful.
Her concentration was pure, soft, almost reverent. She touched each ornament like it carried something fragile. When she stretched to adjust a garland, her sweater rode up just enough to make my breath catch. And whe
