Blind Love by Kishan Paul Page A

chords of a country song were audible before he parked at the assisted living center two hours later. She hadn’t called. He hadn’t expected her to, but figured he’d show up anyway, if for nothing else, they could at least have a proper goodbye.
    He followed the music to the backyard of the complex. Round tables with chairs peppered the lawn. Stringed lights filled the night sky like fireflies. People dressed in their Sunday best danced, ate and talked. All but one of them were old enough to be his grandparent. He fixed his gaze on the brown-haired beauty.
    An elderly man in khaki Dockers and a light-colored shirt held her in his arms as they danced. She laughed at whatever he said, and when they turned, Gabe laughed too. The man’s hands palmed her ass and, besides moving them, she didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
    A heavy-set woman with a kind face approached him. “You must be Gabe. I’m Irma Rourke.”
    Her brown hair was cut short and her blue eyes were kind. When she hugged him, he liked her instantly.
    “Lauren told me you might show up. It’s great to meet you.”
    He raised his brows. How’d she know that?
    She navigated him to an empty table. “Come have a seat. This song just started, it’ll be awhile before she’s done. Let me get you some apple juice.”
    He positioned his chair for a better view of the dance floor and caught sight of a very relaxed Jack. His head lay plopped on the lap of a woman who reminded him of his middle school librarian. She rubbed his neck like it was some magic lamp.
    Lauren glowed in the dim lights. She and her dance partner sang along to the chorus as they moved. Every so often she’d pull the man’s wandering hands back up to her waist as she belted out the country song.
    “She’s one of a kind.” Mrs. Rourke handed him a paper cup.
    Unable to tear his eyes off of her, he nodded. “Yes, she is.”
    When Gabe took a sip, the liquid burned his throat. He coughed and took a sniff of the drink before putting it on the table. “Apple juice?”
    “The best.” She winked at him. “Don’t let the blindness fool you. Lauren’s the toughest person I know.”
    He chuckled. “I’m starting to see that.”
    Mrs. Rourke rested her hand on his. “She needs someone like you in her life.”
    His face warmed. Gabe took another sip of his “juice” before answering. “We’re friends, nothing more.”
    “Friends don’t look at other friends the way you’re staring at her.”
    He didn’t respond. It wasn’t something he could deny.
    “You’d better get to her before Willie leaves bruises all over her ass.”
    “Good idea.” He swallowed the rest of the drink and shifted out of his seat.
    Gabe cut in, grabbing her waist and pulling her close before Willie had a chance to argue.
    “Hi, you,” she said as she wrapped her hands around his neck. “I told you I didn’t need a ride.”
    He whispered in her ear. “I know, but a friend of yours asked me to save you.”
    Lauren laughed. “How’d she do that?”
    “She bribed me with brandy with a touch of apple juice.”
    Lauren rested her cheek against his shoulder and sighed. “Remind me to thank her. These people are all lushes.”
    He pressed his face against her hair and savored how their bodies fit. Her warmth soothed him. Even if he was walking away, he would give himself this moment. Gabe inhaled her scent and held her close. “I have no complaints.”
    They moved silently as the music played. He held her tight, pushed away his reality, and fantasized for as long as possible.
    “I heard you packing up earlier. Are you leaving?”
    He cringed. “Yeah.”
    She stiffened at his response. “When?”
    He cleared his throat. “Tonight.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s the right thing to do.”
    Lauren fell silent. Some of her hair had come loose from the knot she’d made. He released the stick holding it in place and smoothed down the strands. Their dance continued long after the music stopped