Chapter 8 #2
“I don’t know. I was going to do that, but she said with all the security, it wasn’t necessary.” She frowned. “I think she was just worried about putting me out. It wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but if you’d rather stay, I understand.”
“I know you have to work in the morning. I’ll take care of it.”
“All right, y’all have a good night.”
She left and he shut the door, then walked into the kitchen to find Maya cleaning up the remains of their dinner. “Need any help?”
“No, it’s mostly just dumping stuff in the trash.” When she was done, she leaned against the counter. “I know you’re probably ready to head back to your own cabin, but can I ask you something?”
“I thought I’d stay on the couch if you’re okay with that. And sure, you can ask.”
“You can stay if you think you need to.”
“I think I need to. I’ll get more sleep here.”
“That’s fine. I’ll probably sleep better with you here too. So, now that we’ve got that settled, I’ll ask my question. You said you had stuff to work through here, that you came here to think.”
“Yes.” He frowned.
“I don’t think you’ve had much time to do that.”
“No, not really.”
“So, what are you thinking about?”
“About my next steps in life.”
“Like?”
He sighed, trying to figure out how much to tell her. Part of him wanted to lay it all out there, bare his soul, and take a chance she wouldn’t push him out the door, but . . .
He sat on the barstool facing her, the counter between them. “I’ve made some not-so-great choices since we last saw each other, and it’s . . . embarrassing.” To say the least. “And while I always want to do the right thing, sometimes it’s hard to know what that is.”
“We all make mistakes in life, Gideon, it’s how we learn. Although, we can only hope and pray those mistakes don’t have tragic or deadly consequences. But we still learn.”
“Oh, I learned, all right.”
“Then that’s all that matters, right?”
No, not really.
“What were some of your mistakes?” she asked. “Sometimes sharing them makes the burden lighter, remember?”
“I don’t think that’s going to work in this case.”
“Won’t know until you try.”
They were so close to being able to leave the resort he could almost taste it.
But until they could, she still needed protection.
Just because the guy hadn’t struck in a while didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
In fact, Gideon had a bad feeling the person was gearing up for something big.
And that made his nerves twitch. “All right, but before I go into that, have you come up with anyone who might be after you? Someone you made mad once you got here?”
“No. I’m drawing a complete blank. I really don’t think Ben could be behind all of this, and he’s the only one who expressed any interest in getting to know me as more than a friend.”
“But it could be him.”
“I mean, it could be anyone. I just don’t think it is.”
Just because she didn’t think so, didn’t make it so.
“Could someone have followed you here?”
She sighed. “Sure. I guess so. But I never noticed anyone. Then again, I wasn’t looking either.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I’ll keep thinking about it. Tell me some of your mistakes.”
Ugh. He’d hoped she’d let that go. He should have known better.
“After Jacob’s death and my mom’s descent into depression, I just wanted out.
Nothing was going to keep me from doing what I wanted to do, and that was go into the army and serve my country.
Make my own way in life and not play second fiddle to the brother who was now elevated to a status I’d never be able to compete with. ”
“Oh, man, Gideon. I’m so sorry you felt that way.”
He shrugged. “I know now my parents never intentionally set out to put that burden on me, but at the time . . . yeah. That’s what it felt like.
Anyway, I left, did my stint in the military, and realized I wanted more.
I love the military, but I also love construction—anything and everything about it—and decided I wanted to have my own company. ”
“Right. I remember Mom and Dad talking about it and how successful it was.”
“Was being the operative word.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means, I didn’t cross all my t’s and dot all my i’s before I went into business with some people, and as a result, I . . .”
“You what?”
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I lost everything.” There. He said it.
“You indicated that before, but you must have kept those cards close to your chest, because I’ve not heard even a hint of anything negative about your business.”
“Former business, remember. It’s not mine anymore.” He sighed and raked a hand over his head. “The new owner kept the name.”
“Well, if the new owner kept the name, it doesn’t sound like all was lost. So why sell it?”
He grimaced. “Mostly because it was related to a bunch of bad memories, and I wanted it gone. I needed a fresh start. That’s why I came here. To think. And to pray, even though sometimes I feel like God is far away. And to just figure out what I’m supposed to do next.”
“So when I mentioned contracting with you and your business to help with the ranch stuff, that’s why you—”
“Stormed off like a petulant child? Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Gideon.”
“It’s okay. Surprisingly, aside from that little moment, I’ve been more at peace since being trapped in this place than I have in a long time. I don’t know what my future holds, but I’m not stressing over it like I was.”
“I’d say that’s progress.”
“Well, I’ve been a little distracted, but that’s all right.” He pulled in a deep breath. “I’ve been avoiding going home because—” What was he doing?
“Because?”
“I . . .” He shook his head and sighed. “Never mind. I’m sorry, Maya, I should be keeping my distance, not allowing my attraction to fog my mind.”
She blinked. “Your attraction . . . for me?”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah. Surely you noticed.”
“I noticed. Surely you noticed it’s reciprocated.”
“Uh . . .”
“No?”
“I mean, I hoped, but . . .” He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m sending all kinds of mixed signals, aren’t I?”
“It’s okay. But don’t feel bad for not noticing. I got pretty good at hiding my feelings while I was deployed.”
“You felt like you should hide them from me?”
“No . . . I mean, yes. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Thank you for being so clear on that.”
She gave his hand a light punch and sighed. “And, no, I’m the mixed-signal sender. I like you, Gideon. I always have. You were special to me when I was growing up, and even that last trip here before we joined the army, it was all I could do to keep from telling you I was madly in love with you.”
Her words sucker punched him. “What? No way.”
“Way. Seriously.”
“I never knew.”
“So maybe I learned to hide my feelings long before the army.” She waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve both obviously got some things going on that we’d rather not talk about. It’s okay. Maybe one day we’ll be able to.”
He was such a coward. “I’m sorry, Maya, it’s not that I don’t trust you—”
“But you don’t. And that’s okay. We’ve only just reconnected, so it’s not something I’ll hold against you. I think I’m just lonely. And while it’s nothing to be ashamed of, for some reason, I blame myself for that.”
“Wait. Why?”
“I lost my best friend, Laura. She and I were surgeons together in Afghanistan. One evening, we got called out to a nearby village. There’d been some fighting and the wounded couldn’t be transported.
We went and did our best. Two of the six died.
” She rubbed her eyes, and Gideon almost told her to stop talking, but before he could, she went on.
“We were almost back to base when insurgents attacked. It was fast and brutal. Laura and I were in the same vehicle when an IED exploded. Our ride flipped and rolled, and I was thrown out. Gunfire erupted from every direction. Our escorts fought back, and when it was finally over, Laura was . . . critically injured.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper, and Gideon had to strain to hear.
“Anyway, shockingly enough, I had no injuries other than the breath knocked out of me. I managed to get to Laura, and she was—she was . . .”
He wanted to stop her, to hold her, tell her that time would heal, but he didn’t dare move. She’d chosen to tell him and he’d let her. “I’m so sorry.” He said the words so soft that he wasn’t sure she heard him.
“I did my best, of course, but all the training in the world wouldn’t have been enough to save her.
So I held her and lied to her. Told her she was going to be fine, and she smiled at me.
” Her gaze met his. “She smiled and reassured me. Said she would be just fine, and everything was going to be okay. I held her and prayed over her as bullets flew all around us. And then she took her last breath.”
“Maya . . .” he whispered.
“So that’s what I dream about. I dream about not being able to save the ones I love.
About failing. About not living the kind of life I should, having been spared to return home.
” She swallowed hard. “I just want my life to mean something. And I want it to mean that I did everything I could to help other people.”
Her words punched him. Hard. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He could only feel the impact.
“It’s better now,” she said, “but sometimes, something will trigger that day, and I . . . well, it’s bad.”
“PTSD.”
“Yes. The memories are bad enough, but the full-blown episodes are . . . hard.”
“I know.”
She met his gaze. “I know you do.”