Chapter 20 Gunner
Gunner
I watch the door long after Gabe has gone through it, frozen by the fear running through my veins.
And the regret.
Christ, I never should have said the things I did.
I shouldn’t even be thinking them. Taryn is my stepdaughter, for fuck’s sake—or she was once—and it’s my job to take care of the girl, not berate her and make her feel worse about her position.
She’s in some sort of trouble in the city, and though she won’t tell me what it is—not that I’ve tried hard enough to get it out of her—I need to be making sure she knows she’s safe here.
That she can always come here if she needs a place to hide.
A hand to hold.
Someone to watch her back.
And instead I’ve just screamed at her about how she doesn’t belong and is only making trouble for everyone.
I slap my hands to my forehead and start pacing the room, trying to get my brain to come back online.
I spent the last half hour consumed and controlled by my emotions, and that’s completely unacceptable.
Over the last four years I worked hard to stop feeling, and in the space of two days I’ve managed to lose all that discipline.
Time to get it back.
“Think, Gunner,” I mutter. “Stop feeling. Think.”
Of course it’s not that easy. Now that my heart has remembered how to feel things, I can’t seem to turn it off again.
Emotions are rushing through me at a million miles an hour, one after the other, like they’re playing tag and I’m the fucking playground.
Elation. Jealousy, Betrayal. Abandonment. Anger. Regret.
Love.
I growl and spin, pacing through the kitchen and then back into the great room, where my eyes land on the Christmas decorations.
Taryn’s hands are all over them, and I can’t be in this room without fucking smelling her.
So I go outside into the snow, where she hasn’t left her mark.
Think, think, I tell myself. What do I do now?
I should have gone with Gabe, I realize instantly. I should be out there trying to find her, tearing through the snow after her. Hell, I should have been leading the fucking charge. But I’ve never been good at playing the hero.
Or rather... I was, once. And then I failed, and it was like my mind forgot how to do it.
These days, Gabe is the only knight in shining armor in this house, and there are times that I hate him for it.
I don’t like to admit that, but it’s the truth.
He’s everything I was when I was young and naive. Before the world beat me down.
Before I realized that no one actually has your back.
But now is not the time or place to think about that because Taryn is the only one who matters.
I hate that I’m not out there searching for her.
Instead, I’m here in the house, rage and terror at how much I feel for this girl coursing through my veins.
And under that, if I’m cataloging emotions and feelings, lies a horrible shame and awareness that she deserves someone better than I am, and a fear that I’ll never be able to fully love anyone again.
I haven’t been able to love anyone since Helen left, and I’m not even sure that was love.
That was trying to cover a hole that had existed since Natalie died.
And Gabby is more of the same. Just a patch, and one that I don’t even really like.
I’m using her as a crutch, and it doesn’t matter that I don’t love her, because I’m not capable of love.
Not real love. Not enough to save someone when they need saving. Clearly.
I hate myself for that. I hate the coward that I’ve become.
And I despise the fact that I can’t seem to change it.
But as long as I’m still here, I may as well be doing something useful.
I charge back into the house and start gathering supplies.
Blankets, hot water bottles, and sweatshirts.
The medical kit that I keep in my bathroom.
I start a pot of milk to boil, then realize that I don’t need it boiling yet and turn off the heat.
I’ll boil it for hot chocolate when Gabe brings Taryn back.
Because my son is a good man, and a hero.
I know he’ll find her and bring her home.
He has to.