“You’re not crazy. And you’re not going to hurt me and you’re not coming apart. Hey, look at me. I want to see your face.”
Jake let him.
“That’s better. You’re not dangerous, Jake.”
Jake swallowed. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“I do,” Gabriel said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
* * * *
Gabe sat cross-legged in front of his canvas wall with his sketchbook open on the floor beside him, showing Jake’s tattoo. He’d pulled back the sheet and draped it over a kitchen chair so he could paint, but he hadn’t started yet.