3rd March

Sometimes, I get fucking fed up with the students I have to deal with and their conquest to be as fucking reckless and self indulgent as possible. It's like there's a bet going. Who can achieve the most self destructive bullshit before third period?

I'm in my office filling out a report form on my laptop because as much as I want to keep students off the record and deal with their behavior under the radar, I wasn't the only teacher that caught Brodie and Lauren setting another students locker on fire.

Bri and I spent most of the morning listening to the two girls explain that this only happened because Kurt, the one who now has charred text books, is a creep who felt up Lauren's little sister at a bonfire over the weekend.

The fire was meant to be some sort of poetic gesture, a subtle but obvious message for Kurt if he was intelligent enough to put two and two together.

Lauren and Brodie aren't the most problematic students I've ever had. Decent grades and respectful attitudes for the most part. I'm not one to shrug off their reasoning and I'm going to include that in the report. Still, I wish they would find methods of revenge that didn't include school property.

There was a look of realization on their faces when I explained that Kurt doesn't suffer a whole lot for a damaged locker and that impact just falls to the budget which pays to replace it.

Bri didn't appreciate that I suggest the girls aim for his car or perhaps just a good old fashion police report.

One thing I know, I'll be keeping watch on Kurt Ingles from now on. I'm sure the girls think teachers couldn't give a fuck about what goes on between them, but I do. I care if there are perverted assholes making the girls uncomfortable and I'll make it my problem if I catch wind of it.

My desk is scattered with papers, forms from students, letters of recommendation I need to scan and email, the coffee mug next to me has gone cold. Pushing a hand through my hair, I notice a figure appear at the door and look up to find Gabrielle standing there in a beanie, a jacket and thick leggings.

I lean back in my seat and smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"I finished cleaning and thought I'd drop in," she moves inside the office, looking around at the clutter of equipment and paper. "I was curious about this little office I've heard about."

"Come here," I gesture for her to come behind my desk.

She does and as soon as she's in front of me, I wrap my hands around her thighs and pull her down to straddle my lap. Her little humph as she sits and grips my shoulders is a mix of surprise and arousal. I give her a rough kiss and think perhaps I should've told her to close the door.

When she leans back, she continues glancing around at the mess I've managed to make since the semester started in August.

Ever since the weekend, when Gabrielle tested me on how much change I'd tolerate from her, she's been more reserved. It's killing me because I want her to do whatever she needs to, to find herself, whatever that requires, I'll support her.

So I can't figure out where her walls have come from but I'm desperate to bring them back down.

It's a gut feeling, a shift in her energy. It's not something that's easy to pin point but I can feel it nonetheless.

I'm convinced that moving too fast spooked her. Telling Lydia made it more real than she'd realized. Whatever happened, something has made her withdraw and while she's still here with me, I can feel her pulling back.

It fucking terrifies me because she could up and leave for California and there would be nothing I could do to stop her.

Part of me gets it. She hasn't been single for long, she hasn't taken that time to get to know herself outside of a relationship. But now that we're here, I don't want to let her go. When I told her we shouldn't blur the lines, this is what I was afraid of. I'm in too damn deep and I don't think I would ever get over her.

When our kiss parts, she gives me that soft smile, the one that isn't as full as it has been in the past month. She's restless. I can feel it and it sends a jolt of unease straight through me.

"Should we do something this weekend?" I suggest, hands moving slow and soft over her thighs draped over mine.

"Like what?"

"We could go out of town? Take Lydia to the zoo or something like that?"

Gabrielle wraps the chord of my whistle around her finger. "That could be fun. You have a game on Friday though, right?"

"We can go on Saturday. Spend the night somewhere."

If she's restless, I want to give her experiences, travel with her, explore. I'll do whatever I have to so that she feels like she's not missing out.

"Yeah," she leans in and kisses me. "We should do that."

"We can do something else," I assure her. "Whatever you want."

Her lips kick into a grin and she narrows her stare at me. "What does that mean?"

"It means we can do whatever you want."

Her hips shift and I have to ignore the friction because now isn't the time for a half chub. Gripping her hips, I hold her still and she lightly laughs.

"Is this about the other night?" She asks, focused on the conversation and not the fact that I'm fighting for my life over here because whenever she moves I'm on the verge of getting bricked up. "Are you worried I'm bored? Like I need to get out of here."

"Not bored," my thumbs curl around her hips, fingers splay out on her ass and I squeeze. "Just, restless perhaps. If I'm being honest, Gabrielle, as I like to be, I'm fucking scared I'm going to lose you."

Her expression softens, her hands move behind my neck and she brings her mouth in close to mine. "I love you, Nathan. I want you. I just don't know what else I want and I'm at the point where I need to want other things. Things that can come to define me as a person. I can't just be someone else's person forever."

"I know," I swallow the bout of nerves I get whenever I feel like she's going to walk from me. "Baby, what can I do to promise that I'm on your side."

Her hands cup the back of my head, her eyes are full of a love I know she feels but her words gut me. "I know you are, that's not the issue. You love me and I'm so in love with you. That should be enough right?"

It feels like there's a fucking rock lodged at the back of my throat, I'm sick, I'm desperate, I'm in love with someone who I knew could be a flight risk. Fuck, I should've listened to myself when I said she needed time to be single. I never wanted to be a fucking rebound and this was the reason.

The rebound never gets the girl.

Taking her wrists, I hold them away from me. "If you're going to leave, just rip the band aid off. I can't sit around and wait."

Her lip drops, hurt blooming across that beautiful face that hasn't given me a moment's peace since I laid eyes on her in December. Every morning it's her, late night thoughts are her, in the shower, on the field, in the car. It's her, all the fucking time.

I can't convince her to let me love her through her changes, I can't convince her to let me be involved in her growth and no matter what she tells me, losing her is going to fucking hurt, regardless of whether it's about me or not.

"Nathan, it's not—"

Holding her hips, I guide her off my lap and ignore the hurt and confusion clouding her features as I stand up and step around her.

I close the office door and hold the handle, not able to turn around and face her while she rips my heart out. I'm giving her the chance to do that and it'll be the last one she gets.

"Gabrielle," I face the door, fighting the urge to rip it off it's hinges. "I can't sit around and watch you itch for a reason to get out. You want out, go ahead. I've done what I can to convince you that I'm here for you."

"It's not about that," her voice quivers and my entire body aches to turn around and soothe her hurt. "I feel like I depend on you too much. I don't even know how I would live without you and that's a problem, Nathan. You shouldn't be taking on as much as you are when it comes to Lydia and I."

Now I do turn around and face her glassy gaze and her hands wound tight together in front of her. "Don't you think that's my decision to make? Whether I'm taking on too much?"

Her head lowers.

"And don't give me some shit about being too dependent on me. You raised Lydia alone for the first five years. You know, when you couldn't depend on Josh for shit."

A sob racks through her and I feel like a piece of shit, hurting her when I should be the one comforting her. I'm glued to the spot though, torn between preserving my heart and holding hers.

I'm one tear away from falling at her feet and begging her to get rid of these thoughts that are threatening our happiness.

"I told you, Gabrielle. I told you we shouldn't rush this. You needed time alone and I fucking knew it."

Her face falls into her hands and she cries so hard it's like a vice wrapping around my throat.

"You won't feel settled until you've done whatever you think you need to do," I swallow. It feels like shards of glass going down my throat. It feels like I'll bleed out if I keep speaking, but what's the alternative?

"I can't keep holding on to someone who wants me to let go."

"Don't you get it?" Her voice is garbled on tears and her cheeks are damp. "This is so fucking hard for me. I'm in love with you and I don't want to be without you but I'm torn between that and growing the fuck up. I've never not had a partner. I don't know if that's the right way to be. And then there's Lydia who adores you and would be devastated if we left. So have some fucking compassion, Nathan. I'm confused."

"Have some compassion?" I bark out a laugh, walking toward her. "Where the fuck was your compassion when you were begging me not to make a move unless I was in it for the long haul? All of that just to decide I'm still not enough."

She peers up at me through wet lashes as I stand over her, my fists clenched to keep from holding her face and kissing her hard enough to knock some sense into her. "You are enough. It's not like I knew I would feel like this."

I exhale a breath through my nose, jaw clenched while I stare at the face of the only woman I've ever loved and wonder if I'll ever be her choice. The one she chooses to do life with. Perhaps it was too hopeful to think I'd get the girl after fucking around on women for so long.

"I get it, Gabrielle. I get there's things you feel like you need to do," I tell her, voice tight. "But there's nothing wrong with being in a partnership. Two people that love each other and want to be a team in life and lift each other up. You're so fucking used to being treated like shit you don't see what good can come from a relationship. It's not always a toxic waste of time."

Before she can continue to gut me, I turn around and leave the office. I leave my heart there with her.

                      When I get home later that afternoon, Gabrielle and Lydia aren't there. The house is quiet. Too quiet. I fucking hate it. Gabrielle has tutoring tomorrow so I don't know what her disappearance means for that. I don't know if she's planning on coming back or not.

I dump my shit beside the door. The basket on the side table stares at me. The one Gabrielle put there when she moved in. The girls beanies and gloves are gone. For a second, I think about throwing that basket at the wall as hard as I can.

But I've never been one to throw a tantrum and wreck my own shit, so I walk past it and head for the hall.

The bedrooms are clean, too clean. There are things missing. Clothes, some of Lydia's drawings and coloring pens.

Gone.

It's loss, brutal, earth shattering loss and I don't even know if she's gone for good, where she's gone, if I'll see her again. I collapse onto the edge of my bed, not sure how I got here but all I know is that I'm losing strength while I imagine a life without the woman I love and her daughter.

How the fuck did Josh let this happen to him? How the fuck did he accept their disappearance and decide to thrive in their absence? I'm close to tearing through this fucking town until I find Gabrielle and plead on my knees for her to come home.

The only thing stopping me is that I know she feels like this is what she needs to do in order to be the best version of herself. While I hate it, I'm not settling on her having one foot in and one foot out.

She's got me, she's got me for as long as it takes for her to come home to me. Fuck, perhaps I'll go to her. When she wants me. Wherever she is. I like California and I wouldn't be surprised if that's where she is or that's where she's going.

I'm not sure how long I sit there, unable to move, unable to face the quiet house because she should be here. She should be in this house, with me and I'm collapsing under the knowledge that I won't find her out in the living room or in her bedroom or in the shower.

It's making me ill. An actual thudding ache in my chest and a nausea in my stomach that I've never felt before. I'm sure I'm about to throw up.

I'm weak because eventually I slip my cellphone out of my pocket and press call on her contact. Falling back on the bed, I stare at the ceiling and listen to the phone ringing.

"Come on, baby," I murmur, raking a hand through my hair over and over again. "Please answer."

It rings and rings and rings. I sit up again, the corner of the mattress sinking under me. My knee starts to bounce and then I'm up, pacing the room I'd planned on sharing with Gabrielle.

It was going to be our room. I was going to clean up the desk in the corner so she could use it, I was going to give her half of the closet, a set of drawers, creative freedom to decorate it however she chose.

The never ending ring tone in my ear takes me further and further from any of that becoming real because she won't answer me.

I just want to hear her voice.

There's a knock at the door while I'm in the kitchen a few hours later, deliberating if I can be bothered eating. I've never been so checked out before, so devoid of motivation. My footsteps feel heavier than usual as I head for the door, still glancing around the living room like I'm hoping Gabrielle will be sitting her fine ass in front of the fire.

She's not.

Swinging the door open, I find Matt on the doorstep. He's wrapped in a big green coat, a beanie on and plaid patterned pants. I'm surprised to see him here at seven in the evening, now would be the time he's getting the kids into bed.

"How's it going?" I stand aside and let him in, closing the door while he toes off his boots.

He shivers, his stare going over to the fire place which isn't burning for the first time in a long time. "It's cold in here."

I shrug, slipping my hands into the pockets of my sweat pants. It might be cold but I can't feel a damn thing. It's pathetic, deep down, I know this total shut down is pathetic and even if I didn't know it, I would see it in Matt's face as he follows me to the sofa and we sit down. Him on one end, me on the other.

"Gabrielle's at our house."

My attention snaps toward him. "What?"

He nods, sinking back into the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "Make me a coffee, man. It's cold."

"What's she doing there?"

He tips his head at the kitchen. "Coffee first."

"For fucks sakes," I stand up and storm over to the kitchen, behaving like a little bitch as I bang the mug on the bench, slam the fridge door and almost throw the new kettle into the sink.

We had to get a new one after Lydia burned her hands and feet, the glass cracked when it fell on the floor.

Matt has the nerve to look amused when I peer at him, still lounging on the sofa while I scoop a big sugar into his cup. If he wants to fuck with me, he can lose sleep tonight. I know I sure will be.

"This place looks good," Matt tips his head from side to side, looking at the small changes Gabrielle made while she was here. The new cushions on the couch, the candles, the photos on the wall and the new curtains she put up.

Apparently the previous dark brown ones didn't compliment the room. Now, a sage green pair drapes to the floor, matching well with the cushions and photo frames. It was small things but Matt was right, it looked good and she'd made it more of a home than it'd ever felt before.

Not that it didn't feel like a home when Dallas lived here. It did. But creating a home with Gabrielle was different. It was ours, a space for her and I to fill with love. As much as I appreciated that, I knew it might not feel the same to her. Perhaps she'd want her own forever home, with a fresh start and new walls. Something she and I choose together. I would do that with her. In a heart beat.

Matt accepts the handle of the mug when I go back into the living room and I almost grip the collar of his jacket and shake the fucking life out of him. I don't bother demanding more information, he knows what I'm waiting for when I sit down and glare at him.

"She's clearing her head," Matt gives me just a crumb of the information I want from him.

I narrow my glare. "That's it? You couldn't have spat that out ten minutes ago when you walked in."

"Thought I'd build the suspense."

"Asshole," I pick up one of the cushions and almost throw it at him until I remember he's holding a cup of boiling hot coffee. "How'd she end up there? I know she's friends with Holly but I didn't think she'd come knocking for a place to crash."

"She's not staying with us," Matt rests his cup on his knee. "She wanted to talk to Hols about the concerns she has with commitment so soon after she left that other dude. What's his name?"

"Who gives a fuck?"

Matt's brows flick up and he mutters something about my attitude under his breath.

"What else did she say?"

Matt sips on his drink, his ring finger tapping the edge and pinging, over and over while he thinks. "She said something along the lines of, you're it for her and if she enters a relationship now, that'll be it. She wants it to be her last one."

I fall back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling while I try to grasp at rationalism before I go across town, get down on one knee and tell her, damn right, I am the last one.

"You should get where she's coming from," Matt says and I turn my head to find him looking at me expectantly. "You had a long single life, Nathan. You know who you are and what you want. You've been around the block once or twice. Or three times. You have indulged in all the hetero norms that surround being single. You're ready. Perhaps she's not. That's not about you. That's about her."

Grief pierces me, because he's right. As much as I didn't want to understand it, I do. It fucking hurts and I'm restless but if that's how she feels, if she needs to explore and date and find herself, who the fuck do I think I am to stop her?