Chapter Seventy-six

**GABRIEL**
I stood in front of my house, remembering the last time that I had been here with Oliver, and smiled wistfully as I thought to myself how we hadn’t parted on good terms here either. I stepped outside and sighed as the bright midday sun hit me square in the face.
Crystal Cove. The place where it had all begun. The place that had given me my greatest gift. I hated that it now held sour memories for me. I walked down the streets, smiling at the familiar faces that greeted me, and reminiscing about a simpler time. It seemed to be all I had now. I traipsed across the beach and walked up the stairs of the lighthouse, smiling brightly to myself as I remembered how we had shared our first kiss there. I leaned against the banister and allowed my mind to think of Oliver. My wolf had reclused itself to the farthest part of my mind in pain of being so far away from its mate, and my heart could hardly take the torture I was intentionally putting myself through.
But if it would help, it was worth giving it a try. After all, distance made the heart grow stronger, right?
I took a deep breath as I looked down at the wide expanse of sand, at children playing in the sand and building castles, at the women sunbathing and families posing for a photograph. I smiled wistfully as I thought how simple things must be in their world.
I smiled at the couples who giggled with each other as they walked up and down the beach, hand in hand, like all lovers should.
I eventually came down from the lighthouse just as the sun began to set, oblivious to just how much time I had spent up there, thinking about a time so far beyond that it might have been another century.
My body more or less operated on autopilot, my mind everywhere else that wasn’t on this island, my feet plying a very familiar path that led down to Martha’s house, chastising myself on how long it had taken me to come to see how the woman who had filled the role of a mother fared. I smiled as I knocked on the door and let myself in, smiling as the familiar scent of cinnamon and pine drifted up my nostrils, and at the warmth of the fire burning.
I heard her as she descended the stairs, smiling as she came into view holding on tightly to a small basket that contained wool, with knitting pins poking out of the basket. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and sadness immediately filled my heart afresh. I hated how long it had taken me to come back here, hated how long it had taken for me to check in on her, see how she was doing…see if she was well and alright.
I hated how much I had neglected her.
Martha smiled widely, a watery smile displayed on her lips as she gathered me into her arms in a hug. I held on to her and smiled as the heavy smell of mind hit me, realizing for myself in real-time just how much I had missed her. She pulled back and held me at arm’s length, her eyes brimming with tears and admiration as she stared and then nodded to herself.
“Gabriel…” she said, a line tear rolling down her cheek. “I have missed you so much…”
I wiped the tear away with my thumb and dropped a feather-light kiss on her forehead. “I’ve missed you too, Martha,” I replied. “Don’t cry, please…”
We stood there, holding on to each other and smiling, our eyes telling each other lost stories of a different time. I hated how much I missed hers because, for me, it translated to just how long it took for me to come and see her.
“Come, sit.”
I sank into the familiar, warm, and worn-out leather couch, smiling even wider to myself as I relaxed in the comfort of familiarity. I watched as Martha did the same, and picked up her knitting to her lap, her hands moving deftly with the pins as she made magic out of the wool.
“I’m very happy to see you, Gabriel,” she said. “When did you return?”
“Sometime last week. I’m really happy to see you too, Martha.”
The light in Martha’s eyes died, and she smiled sadly at me. “It took you that long to come and visit your old lady?”
Guilt found its way to my chest and took hold of my heart. “I’m sorry, Martha, I’ve been quite busy since my return,” I replied, the lie flowing smoothly off my lips.
She seemed to buy it as her smile returned to her lips, brighter than ever. She hadn’t changed much since I and Oliver left. Only her hair was almost all gray, and her knees seemed to have gotten worse. I looked around the small inn and smiled. The place was still spic and span, despite her age, she seemed more than capable of caring for herself.
“I understand,” she said. “Did you come back here alone?”
The smile was wiped clean off my face, and my heart instantly became heavy. In the short time that I had been there, I had managed to forget Oliver and her question had just brought him back, and of course, with the accompanying pain in my chest.
“Yes. I came alone.”
“Oh?” She seemed surprised. “Oliver didn’t come with you? Why? Where is he?”
I shifted uncomfortably on the couch and forced a smile to my lip as I noticed Martha’s eyes on me.
“He didn’t care to come with me.”
A simple sentence, and yet one filled with so much pain. Pain that didn’t go unnoticed by Martha.
Martha’s hands froze, and I swore under my breath as the words flew from my mouth. I couldn’t quite tell what had happened. Why I had allowed that thought to escape my mind? And now, Martha was staring at me with concern in her eyes.
“Is everything okay?” She asked, her voice calm, solemn, prodding something inside me…compelling me to speak.
I shook my head. “No. Everything is okay. He just had a show in New York,” I said and chuckled. “I don’t know why I would even say that.”
Martha continued to look at me with concern; not buying my class act. She tapped the spot next to her and shifted to the side to make room for me. “Come over here.”
I sighed and did as I was told, settling myself next to her and getting consumed by the powerful scent of mint, cinnamon, and pine.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
I sighed, and leaned back in the chair, realizing that I had unfortunately gotten myself entrapped into Martha’s snare.
I laughed nervously. “What do you mean? Nothing is going on.”
Martha rolled her eyes to the sky and shifted her body to face me. Her eyes held mine, and I felt a cold sweat break out on my brow. I looked away from her, still feeling her eyes burning into the side of my face, trying to read my mind.
“Talk to me, Gabriel,” she drawled. “Get it off your chest.”
I took a deep breath. “Fine. I and Oliver aren’t on the best of terms,” I said. “We needed a bit of space away from each other.”
“Hmmm, a bit of space…did you both agree to the space?”
Her question packed a punch and hit me square in the jaw as I remembered how Oliver had more or less begged me not to go, not to leave him…and I had done it anyway. At that moment, I realized that he must hate me.
“Well, no. Not exactly.”
Martha nodded. “Why do you think you both need space?”
I took a deep breath as I was forced to take a trip down memory lane to all the fights and quarrels over the most irrelevant things.
“Lately, Oliver has become a bit complicated.”
“What made him complicated?”
“Oliver…lately, he has become a bit complicated. I just thought that perhaps we needed some space for him to figure out his emotions, and what he wanted from me…” I said. “Lately, he has been acting very odd.”
Martha chuckled. “Tell me everything, Gabriel. From the beginning. Do not miss a thing.”
And so I did that.
I took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened, right from the moment we both left Crystal Cove, to New York, to his parents, to the near-death scares. I told her about all the times we fought, carefully editing out the stories of the goddess. I told her about Carrie, my cousin, and how lately, her name had become a constant in Oliver’s mouth. How for some reason, he hated her guts. By the time I was done, Martha was looking at me with wide eyes and mouth agape. I saw in her eyes how hard and fast she was trying to digest and make sense of the information unloaded on her.
But I felt better. Much better. Even though there hadn’t been any apparent solutions, talking about it made my chest feel lighter. I leaned back on the couch and gulped in mouthfuls of air, smiling to myself, pleased with myself.
“Wow…” she said finally. She sat with everything I had said for a while, and I was in no hurry for her to digest it.
I was comfortable with the silence. I would be happy if it all just stopped there. But it never stops halfway. Not with Martha. Never with Martha.
“This Carrie,” she started. “How sure are you that she isn’t a problem? I mean, if he’s complaining about her consistently, there must be something there, no?”
“That’s the thing! He won’t tell me what his problem with her is, and I swear, it’s killing me!”
Martha smiled and took my hand in hers. “Have you thought about the possibility of him trying to protect you?” She asked.
My brows furrowed in confusion. “Protect me? From what? From who?”
“From the truth,” she said endearingly. “Maybe he’s just afraid of losing you.”
“That’s not possible.”
Martha chuckled. “Love has an odd way of making us do stupid things.”
I sat still and thought about everything that Martha said. But what would Oliver possibly be protecting me from? We’ve seen the worst of it all. It didn’t make sense.
“Are you saying I should return?”
Martha shrugged. “Not really. If you truly believe that you both need space, then sure. But when you go back, try to keep an open mind. You might just learn something.”
Long after I left Martha, her words stayed with me. I pulled out my phone as I walked home, and thought about calling Oliver. But what do I say to him after leaving unprompted, and not bothering to call him to even know where I went to, not calling to check up on him? What do I say?
I swore under my breath and slid the phone into my pocket, just as confused as when I had walked into Martha’s Inn.