Summer Attractions (26 page)

Jemma’s tongue finally unstuck. “He didn’t take advantage,” she practically interrupted. “He really didn’t.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Jemma.”

Pleating the sheet between her fingers, she said, “He told me that you wanted me to come with you to Rio originally.”

“I did, and you proved to Duncan that he made a mistake. He won’t make it again,” Nick reassured her.

Jemma’s breath caught in her chest. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“When you come back to LA, no more coffee runs.” She could hear the grin in his voice.

“How about lunch?” she asked, her own smile certainly matching his.

“You’ll get your own blog space, Jemma. You’ve more than proved you deserve it.”

They discussed briefly some of the details and how she might want to brand her new space on
Five Points
, and when she hung up, Jemma was undeniably ecstatic. This was why she’d taken the chance and moved to LA, despite so many people’s advice, despite so many people thinking it was a bad move for her career. Even Colin had offered only hesitant support for her crazy dreams. She’d believed in herself, believed that if she ever had an opportunity to make an impression that she wouldn’t falter. And she hadn’t, though, Jemma had to admit that she couldn’t have done it without Gabe.

And that knowledge was undeniable and bitter on her tongue. She wouldn’t go as far as to say it
ruined
what she’d just learned, but she couldn’t forget it either.

She couldn’t forget
him
.

The banging on the door wouldn’t quit, no matter how much Gabe ignored it.

If he’d had a thought or a prayer that it was Jemma, he might have gotten off his miserable ass and answered it, but he knew it wasn’t her. Wasn’t going to be her again.

But the heavy, insistent thumping was disturbing his pity party and he also couldn’t completely rule out the possibility that Jemma might find it in herself to forgive.

Before the third volley started, he sprang up and wrenched the door open.

Kimber Holloway stood in the doorway, an expression on her face like she’d just been sucking on a lemon. As if standing in front of him was an affront to her character.

Well, that was just fucking
great
. He didn’t really want to talk to either. He glowered right back, even though she didn’t deserve it. But the truth was, Gabe was ready to glower at the world right now. Guilt was a real bitch that way.

She rolled her eyes. If he had to guess, it was probably at his sour expression that matched her own. “Are you going to let me in?” she asked archly.

“It doesn’t really seem like you want to come in.”

He watched with some small satisfaction as she absorbed his words and didn’t immediately retort that it was a lie.

“You’re right, I don’t want to,” she admitted. Her face hardened further. “But I have business with you that needs to be dealt with.”

That didn’t really bode well, but some masochistic part of him opened the door wider and let her follow him in.

The door shut behind her with a decisive click.

“What do you want?” he demanded, even though he had a very good idea.

If she wanted him to apologize to Jemma, to tell her that he hadn’t meant what he’d said, she was too late. He’d already fallen on his sword, and she’d left him like that, skewered and bleeding out.

It stung still, and it had been two days.

Gabe had a feeling that it was going to take a lot longer than a few days for it to stop hurting.

Kimber shot him another suffering look, like she would rather be just about anywhere than where she was, and dug into her pocket. She extended the white square she’d extracted in his direction.

“This,” she said succinctly, “is yours.”

He didn’t want to, but he took it anyway because damn his curiosity, he wanted to know what it was, and when he glanced down, he realized again what a fucking horrible thing curiosity was.

It was the ticket to the men’s soccer final that Jemma had nearly killed herself to get—for
him
.

He knew that now, and the thought was nearly unbearable.

She’d carelessly thrown herself into danger, just for something that could make him smile. Something that could give him the sort of memory that he might carry with him for a long time. And what had he given her in return? Only ugly words. Lies, really.

It was his first instinct to crumple the paper, but then Gabe remembered the way Jemma had curled her body inwards, protecting herself, protecting these. And he couldn’t bear to destroy the ticket in the same way she’d almost been destroyed.

“Pretty sure this isn’t mine. Not anymore.” Gabe’s voice sounded rough to his own ears. Desperate, really. He thrust the ticket back at Kimber.

He knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Kimber was a stubborn girl, proud and brave. She wouldn’t have come here, to see someone she so clearly disliked, if it wasn’t important to her. He wasn’t going to be able to dismiss her so quickly.

Like he’d anticipated, she just shook her head.

“I’m sure Jemma gave it to you.” Gabe was only surprised that his whole heart didn’t explode when he said her name.

Melodramatic much
, his conscience pinged.

“She did.” But Kimber wouldn’t reach for the ticket. Just stared him down like the most hardened criminals he’d ever had in the interrogation room. Then Gabe remembered who Kimber had grown up dealing with and wasn’t so surprised. Only astonished that he’d so grossly underestimated her, again.

“And you’re giving it to me. You must really want to piss her off.” He hadn’t had a sense of humor in days, but he still managed a rusty, wry laugh.

“It wasn’t mine in the first place.” Kimber folded her arms across her chest and regarded him with a flinty look.

“So, what you want me to go to the game? Go crawl in public? I’d do it, I’d do it in a fucking heartbeat, if I thought it could help.”

Kimber shot him a look like she couldn’t actually comprehend the breadth of his stupidity.

“If you went and you told her
how you feel
, you imbecile, it
would
.” She enunciated each word like he was still six years old. Or maybe sixteen, cursed with the inability to talk to girls he liked. Maybe nothing had really changed.

He didn’t like the way Kimber made him feel, but he didn’t like the way he’d left things with Jemma more. In the end, it was an easy decision to listen to what she was saying.

“Tell me,” he said. He hadn’t really thought this thing with Jemma was fixable. But she and Kimber were close. Kimber wouldn’t have come here, he realized with a start, if it was impossible.

Of course, even though she was here obstinately to help, Kimber was still Jemma’s friend first. She shot him a frank stare.

“You apologized. You said you didn’t mean it. And then
nothing
.”

Gabe had known the second he fucked up with what he’d said to Nick. That much had been appallingly obvious, made even more clear by the verbal reaming his best friend had treated him to afterwards. But he’d been at least a tiny bit confident that Jemma might be willing to listen to his apology. He’d been earnest. He’d been sincere. He’d said everything he felt.

Hadn’t he?

“You’re a moron,” Kimber bit off at his bewildered silence.

Gabe sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Think,” Kimber continued, “of what you might have implied
but that you didn’t explicitly
say.”

He processed for a moment. A long moment. It seemed impossible. Surely
she knew how he felt about her.
Surely
.

But then he’d also opened his big mouth and spouted off a whole lot of lies that directly contradicted how he felt about her. But still, she’d known
he hadn’t meant anything he’d said.

“But she
knew
I didn’t mean it,” he said out loud, because there was a vital piece of this he was missing. It might have been the lack of sleep or the tequila. Maybe it was just his own stupidity.

Kimber made an exasperated sound, throwing her hands up. “There’s a hell of a lot between
I didn’t mean that fucking you was convenient and part of my job
and
I’m crazy about you
.”

That made so much sense that Gabe was aware of a deeply spreading shame. This
was what he should’ve led with. This
was what he should have told Jemma first, once she’d given him an opportunity to talk to her again. He’d been stupid and blind
twice
. If she forgave him after this, then he was the luckiest asshole in the world and he couldn’t fuck up again.

When he said this out loud, Kimber just rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh, you’ll fuck up alright,” she said, “that much is inevitable.”

He shrugged. She probably wasn’t wrong. “Thank you,” he said fervently.

Kimber shrugged again, long blond hair rippling. “I’m still mad as hell,” she said. “But you got her in to talk to me. You helped save me. I owe you.”

Gabe rose and extended a hand—an olive branch, really. “Not anymore,” he said.

Kimber shot him a look, almost as if she were testing him. “We’ll see,” she said. “We’ll see if you can finally tell Jemma what she deserves to hear.”

It’s been days since Gabe had anything even resembling hope. The last bit of it died when Jemma refused to accept his apology, storming out of the room like she couldn’t stand to even
look
at him anymore. But now it was back, blossoming and growing as Kimber left and he sat down on the bed again, the only spot left in the room to sit.

A minute later, he jolted up again, and dialed the concierge.

“What do you mean, you’re going to be late?” Jemma demanded, switching her phone to her other ear in an attempt to hear Kimber better despite the raucous noise of nearly a hundred thousand fans impatiently awaiting the beginning of the men’s soccer gold medal game.

It probably didn’t help that the tickets Jemma had found were not the greatest seats. They were up high on one side, really high
if she was being painfully honest, but she was still there
.
And where the hell was Kimber?

“I’ll be there shortly,” Kimber said, clearly unconcerned that the match was about to start.

“Is everything okay?” Jemma asked, because this wasn’t like Kimber at all.

“Everything is fine. Stop worrying. I had to deal with a member of the Committee on Skype, and it took longer than I thought it would, and then it was a bitch to deal with the shuttle, so I found a cab. I’ll be there soon.”

“I just didn’t think you’d want to miss this,” Jemma said hesitantly, though whether Kimber could even pick up nuances of tone in the roar of the crowd was questionable.

Kimber reassured her again that she’d be there soon, and there wasn’t anything for Jemma to do except hang up and slide her phone into her pocket and wait, all while attempting to ignore the unfilled seat next to her. All her neighbors who weren’t absorbed by the fascinating swath of empty field far below had given that priceless and empty seat more than one curious look. There weren’t many empty seats in the stadium, not for that match.

The last week had been hell. Jemma had counted on Kimber’s presence to keep her together for the game. She wasn’t anticipating having to go it alone.

Gabe was supposed to have been her date. He was supposed to have been sitting next to her. If Jemma focused hard enough, blocking out the roar of the crowd, she could almost see him. He’d be grinning up at her, that unrepentant smirk curving his lips, a sparkle in his eyes.

They’d had fun in Rio. So much fun that when Jemma remembered that taciturn, somber man from the first car ride, she nearly didn’t recognize the man she’d danced and laughed with in the
favela.
He’d revealed so much to her, just not the one thing she’d wanted him to.

But that wasn’t his fault. Jemma lifted her eyes to the field and from the brewing storm of energy in the crowd, she knew the match was supposed to start.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this
.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Jemma glanced up in confusion. Had she lost it? Had she just said that out loud?

But the sight that greeted her didn’t make any more sense than the words she’d heard.