Free A Love So Deadly by Lili Valente Page A

cry again, not until I know what’s happened to Gabe, until I know if, by some miracle, he’s still alive.
    Gabe. Alive. The thought is a hand pulling me up from the bottom of the ocean. Even if he only has a little time left, I’ll fight for every minute with him. I need to see him again, I need to know if—in two short weeks—my period comes, or if I find out there is a part of Gabe alive inside of me, a son or daughter with my green eyes and his devilish smile.
    I take a moment, closing my eyes and praying for that potential life, praying for the life of the man I love, praying that I’ll find him and be able to tell him I love him one more time. I love him, and I will never forget him. No matter what the future holds, a piece of Gabe will always be with me, burning hot and bright, lighting me up from the inside. He set fire to my heart, and there is no putting it out.
    And if his parents have lied to take him away from me, there will be no stopping me until I have my revenge.
    “You okay, Cait?” Sherry asks.
    I open my eyes. “Not yet, but I will be.”
    I hop off the picnic table, leading the way back into the house, ready to set a few fires of my own.

CHAPTER NINE

Caitlin “Parting is all we know of heaven
and all we need of hell.” -Elizabeth Barrett Browning
    Gabe is alive. Gabe is alive. Gabe…
    I know I may be fooling myself. There is probably a logical explanation as to why none of the funeral homes in town have received Gabe’s body, and none of the hospitals near Giffney, South Carolina have treated a Gabe Alexander in the past few days. My head tells me the chances that the man I love is still alive are slim, at best, but my heart…
    My heart is on fire .
    I go through the motions of the day with hope burning a hole in my chest. I help my best friend, Sherry, make my little brothers and niece breakfast with flames whispering against my ribs, making my blood burn and the mounting heat of the mid-summer day even harder to handle. I can’t wait to go to Darby Hill tonight, to slip my lock pick into the servants’ entrance door, and to tease the pins the way Gabe taught me, until the knob gives under my hand.
    I feel like I’m only half in my body, the other half of me already tiptoeing through Gabe’s parents’ mansion. I help Danny and Ray clean up the blanket fort in the living room, but I don’t see our shabby carpet or the couch that sags in the middle. I see priceless antiques and oil paintings, illuminated by yellow moonlight. I clean up the breakfast dishes with my mind racing, tracing the route I’ll take up the servants’ staircase to make sure Aaron and Deborah Alexander are sleeping in their bed before I start my investigation. I give Emmie a bath with my pulse fluttering wildly at my throat, as if I’m already shifting through Deborah’s desk, looking for clues, not scrubbing toddler toes.
    By the time I change Emmie into her favorite pink tee shirt, white bloomers, and rainbow tutu, my arms are trembling, and I know I need to calm down or I’ll be exhausted before sunset.
    “Play animals?” Emmie asks, pointing to the pile of stuffies on her toddler bed.
    “Sure,” I say, hoping it will help keep my mind off more dangerous subjects. But as I watch her skip across the room to grab her favorite stuffed koala, tutu bouncing around her waist, I can’t help but think about the day Gabe bought the skirt for her at the French Heritage festival.
    It was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like another lifetime. Back then, I had no idea the man I loved was living in the shadow of his own impending death, or that this summer would be the only one we’d ever have. It’s only been four days since I learned that Gabe had chosen life on his own terms over the risky brain surgery that would ravage his memories and personality, even if he were lucky enough to beat the odds and come out alive. Four days since his mother told me that Gabe had died in the hospital. Four days I’ve lived