Except it wasn’t that simple, a fact he hadn’t acknowledged until he got the Gwynn–Matilda–Arawn story. But even that only came as confirmation of what he’d suspected: that he didn’t have Liv to himself. That he couldn’t have her to himself. That, maybe most importantly, he shouldn’t. Because that way lay misery and tragedy and endless grief for all of them.

Grace had asked if Ricky knew Arawn’s mistake. He did. It was exactly that: Arawn thought he could have Matilda to himself.

It was easy to blame Gwynn for what happened. Gwynn broke their pledge, and he made Matilda keep their betrothal secret and persuaded her that Arawn would be happy for them. Gwynn was, indeed, at fault for that betrayal. But when Arawn learned the truth, did he realize Matilda loved Gwynn and back off? Hell, no. His sin, then, was as grave as Gwynn’s, his betrayal of Matilda as deep.

Arawn tried to force Matilda to love him. If she came to him the night before her wedding, she’d lose Gwynn and have no choice but to be Arawn’s. Ricky fervently hoped that if Matilda had lived, she’d have told the asshole where to stick his so-called love and walked out of his life forever. Liv certainly would.

Ricky would not make the same mistake. He knew he couldn’t have Liv to himself, and railing against that would be like blaming a tree for blocking his path. It was there first. He saw it there. He chose to take that particular route. Deal with it.

Ricky loved Liv, and she loved him back, and whatever happened, that’s what he didn’t want to lose. Her love. Their bond. He just happened to be enjoying the rest while he could get it. Because he knew that one day, hopefully not too soon, he wouldn’t be getting it, and he hoped to hell he handled that the same way he’d handled ceding his hospital bedside spot to Gabriel: with understanding and dignity.

“Breakfast,” he said as he walked in, bag raised in one hand, coffee tray in the other.

If Gabriel had slept in the last thirty hours, there was no sign of it. Yesterday Ricky had brought clean clothes from Gabriel’s apartment, but he still wore the borrowed jeans and T-shirt.

Ricky reached over and cleared away the late-night snack he’d left—chips, a candy bar, a coffee, and a can of Coke. There was a bite taken from the bar and a few sips from the coffee. Ricky tossed them and set out a fresh coffee, juice box, muffin, apple, yogurt, and foil-wrapped breakfast burrito. The variety, as with the snack, wasn’t because Gabriel had eclectic food tastes but because he seemed to have no tastes at all. In the four years Ricky had known Gabriel, he’d seen him served coffee with every variation of fixings and watched him drink it without reaction. If asked, he’d say, “Black,” but Ricky hadn’t decided if that was because he preferred it black or if it was just the most efficient way to make it.

Ricky set out the breakfast and then stood there, watching, as Gabriel sat with his gaze fixed on Liv’s sleeping form. Ricky picked up the coffee and put it in Gabriel’s hand. He got a head shake for that, but Gabriel did take a sip. Then Ricky replaced it with the juice. Now came that cool glance that said, You are beginning to annoy me.

“Drink,” Ricky said. “At the risk of nagging, you don’t want the first thing she sees to be you … passed out from low blood sugar.”

The look chilled. “I’m not trying to be the first thing—”

“I know.”

“I’m here so I may explain what happened.”

“Confess, you mean. And you can stop giving me that look, unless you’re trying to cool down your coffee, because it doesn’t work on me.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

“Nope,” Ricky said. “Keep trying, though. You might be able to scare off the rest of the nurses.”

A snort that, from Gabriel, was a laugh, and he settled back into his chair.

“You’re allowed to use the shower in here,” Ricky said. “Apropos of nothing.”

Gabriel looked at him.

“Since it’s a private room, you can use it,” Ricky said. “In fact, the staff were very eager for me to tell you that.”

Gabriel returned to watching Liv. Ricky sighed and held out a bag from the pharmacy downstairs. Gabriel glanced in and grunted.

“Yes, deodorant. Again, apropos of nothing.”

Gabriel took the bag, rose, and headed into the bathroom. Two minutes later he returned, having washed up, run his hands through his hair, and presumably used the deodorant, which he tossed aside. He then took the apple, chomped half of it in one bite, and arched a brow at Ricky.

“Yes, I’m happy. I’ll stop nagging. Sit. Scowl. Just try to be in a slightly better mood when she wakes up.”

Gabriel grunted. Ricky didn’t add and she will wake up. The doctors all said this was only temporary, as her body healed itself. Gabriel seemed to accept that. He was here for the same reason Liv had spent the night in a police station when Gabriel had been arrested for James’s murder. Because that’s where they wanted to be. Where they needed to be.

As Ricky looked at Gabriel watching Liv, he knew that as much as he himself loved her, it wasn’t like this, couldn’t be like this. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what this was. He only knew he couldn’t touch it, and sure as hell couldn’t duplicate it.

Gabriel finished the apple. Then he reached for the juice, and when he didn’t find it, hand stretching out blindly, he turned. That’s when Liv moved. Just her fingers uncurling, as if stretching.

Ricky started forward. Then he stopped.