Gabriel grabbed the bottom of the elevator car and hauled himself up, hoping the exertion might distract him from the memory of how he had lost that other shirt. It did not. When he pulled himself into the car, he stepped past Patrick and took out his phone.

“What are you doing now?” Patrick whispered.

“I need to check in with Olivia.”

“This very moment?”

“Yes.”

He checked his texts—none from Olivia—sent one, and then took another moment to fully distract himself.

“You’re checking your stocks?” Patrick said, looking over his shoulder.

The market was slightly down, which had the proper effect, as did the disappointment of not having Olivia immediately text him back. He didn’t expect her to—she was busy—but it successfully redirected his thoughts to the matter at hand.

“Oh, now we can leave?” Patrick said as Gabriel hefted himself out of the car onto the next floor. “Are you sure you don’t want the weather report first?”

“Clear and cold,” Gabriel said. “A chance of light snowfall tonight.”

Patrick pulled himself from the elevator car. Gabriel continued tracking the dryad footprints down the hall. He was almost to the end when a sound made the hairs on his neck rise, and he stopped short, Patrick bumping into him.

“Time to check sports scores?” Patrick said. When Gabriel didn’t respond, Patrick saw his expression and lowered his voice. “Gabriel?”

“Did you hear that?”

The sound came again. He couldn’t quite place it. No, that was a lie. A shameful one, born of fear rather than uncertainty, like a child listening to thumps under the bed and telling himself he’d heard nothing.

Gabriel had spent twenty years building his defenses. Grow up, get in shape, learn to fight, and banish his fear of physical intimidation and abuse. Go to law school, work hard, invest wisely, and banish his fear of hunger and poverty. Learn to live alone, without attachments, and banish his fear of neglect and abandonment.

The last two were not ones he would ever acknowledge, but he had enough self-awareness to know they festered there, remnants of a very small boy who would light up when his mother was kind and then analyze his behavior to figure out what he’d done to please her. That child did not survive long—he quickly evolved into a boy who realized Seanna’s kindness was as capricious as the moods of a dryad, untethered to his actions.

Gabriel had gone years without knowing true fear. That changed with Olivia. Allowing himself to form an attachment meant allowing himself to fear for another person. And, yes, to fear that person would leave him, would decide he was really too much trouble.