Chapter 12
12
Brock
"Take your time," Schapelle murmurs softly, and I take a deep, fortifying breath, searching to find words I haven't uttered to a single soul. It takes a minute, maybe two, for me to get my bearings.
"We were deep in enemy territory. My best friend, Lachlan, was beside me. Met him when I joined the military. We'd been through every battle together."
I push to my feet, my throat suddenly dry.
Schapelle doesn't say anything, but a few seconds later, she's next to me, handing me my water bottle. "Here."
"Thank you." I take a few gulps, and we sit back down. I scrub a hand through my hair. "The ambush came out of nowhere. One minute, Lachlan was right beside me, cracking a lame joke as always, and the next, he was on the ground."
I'm back there again, on the hot, dusty ground. Heat builds behind my eyes, but I keep going, determined to get this out. "I dropped down and grabbed him, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. But I couldn't. It kept coming. He looked up at me as I held him. We both realized he…he wasn't going to make it."
Schapelle's hand lands on my shoulder as a tear falls down my cheek. "He bled out in my arms, and when he took his final breath, something inside me broke. Why him? He had his whole life ahead of him. He was engaged. His fiancée was pregnant. If not for a few inches, it would've been me. It should've been me."
She rubs my back as silent tears roll down my face. I cover my nose with the back of my hand and sniff. "Sorry."
"Don't be." She wipes the tears from my eyes. "I'm so sorry that happened."
We don't say another word as we head back, but she laces her fingers in mine and doesn't let go until we reach my cabin.
"My father often says, 'You can't outrun your pain'. You can't hide from it forever, either. And that's what I've been doing. Buying this cabin, living up here, cutting myself off from the rest of the world, except for the occasional family member dropping in."
We've just had dinner at the breakfast bar since the dining nook looks like a tornado tore through it, with all of Schapelle's work stuff on it. I stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the day. When we got back from the hike, Schapelle checked in to make sure I was okay. I told her I needed some time, so I wrapped up the last bits on the pergola.
All afternoon, I've seen her glancing up from her work, looking at me, her expression anxious, like she's worried about me. I don't like distracting her from her work, but the fact that she cares is nice.
"People deal with trauma in their own way," she says. "At least your way was constructive. You didn't fall into addiction."
"I guess. I just feel like I'm lacking…" I blow out a breath, "purpose."
It feels silly to admit that, but it's true. As much as I've enjoyed the solitude, what good does it do anyone if I fix up my cabin or plant some veggies? I want to contribute again, be part of something bigger than my own tiny world.
Schapelle's eyes flick over to the bronze statue on the mantle.
"It belonged to Lachlan," I explain. "He taught history and loved art. His fiancée gave it to me."
"Right." She tilts her head to where I left the guitar resting against the side of the couch.
"The last time I played it was the night before he was killed," I say. "Until you brought it out."
"I see." She bites her lip, pauses. "And why are you telling me this now?"
Fair question. Deserves an honest response. And since I was about to say this before the baby interrupted with its little kick show, I'm able to articulate exactly how I feel. "Because you're intriguing and fearless and beautiful and energetic and talented, and the thing I've been trying to ignore and tell myself wasn't happening, is actually happening."
"Which is?"
I lock my gaze onto her. "I'm falling for you, Schapelle, and I—" Whoa. I manage to stop myself from blurting out the rest.
"And what? Go on."
My neck heats. "No. No. I can't. It's too much."
"I'll badger you incessantly until you relent," she prods with a teasing smile, and I know there's no way to unscramble this omelet.
After a long silence, I finally speak. "I don't want you to leave. I know this was only meant to be a month-long arrangement, but I want you to stay. Here. With me."
"But I'm…" She gently traces her fingers across her stomach. "I'm not alone."
"That's not a problem for me. At all. I know I'm getting way too ahead of myself and moving at speed that makes breakneck seem slow. But I want you, Schapelle, and I want to be a part of your baby's life in whatever way you want me to be."
"No one's ever…" She shakes her head, releasing a trembling breath. "No guy has ever treated me as well as you do. You're kind and thoughtful, and you seem to respect that I have a career?—"
"I do respect your career," I interrupt, because I want to make it perfectly clear it's not just for show, but that I genuinely do. "I love that you're successful and sharing your talent with millions of people. I'm in awe of that and want to do whatever little things I can to help you get all the words out."
She smiles, but it quickly wavers. "Owen said no man would ever want me."
"Yeah, well, Owen's a son of a—" I bite my tongue. "I won't finish that because I don't want your baby hearing that sort of language."
Her smile reappears, accompanied by a slight frown. "I…I'm speechless, Brock. I don't know what to say."
"Are you hesitating because I'm emotionally damaged?"
"What?"
"You said you're done with emotionally damaged men, and let's face it…" I wave a hand down in front of myself. "Hello."
"No. I mean, yes, I am done with guys that don't have their stuff sorted out, but that's not who you are, Brock. Sure, you have issues, but you're owning them. And you're making progress. I can see it. Even in the short amount of time we've lived together, I can see how you're changing, coming out of your shell."
"You can?"
She nods. "You're the most incredible man I've ever met. Kind. Supportive. Funny. Strong. Capable. Sexy as sin. But…" My chest sinks. Of course there's a but . "I don't know what to do here."
"I get that." I reach down and take her hands in mine. "But from the moment you walked up and kissed me, you breathed life into me, reawakening a part of myself I thought I'd lost forever. You've made me want to rejoin the real world, find a purpose, and do something good with my life. I realize I have a long road ahead of me, but I'll go to therapy, I'll join the search and rescue team, and I'll…I'll become a man worthy of your love."
"Oh, Brock." She cradles my cheek in her hand. "You already are worthy. I'm falling for you, too. But…" She exhales loudly. "I'm not usually someone who overthinks things. I tend to jump in head-first, as you know. But this is bigger than me. For the first time in my life, if I make a mistake, it won't just affect me anymore."
I hear what she's saying, but my heart is screaming loud and clear, This isn't a mistake!
With my pulse roaring in my ears, I take her hand and curl my fingers around hers. "To quote a song we both know well, I don't want to wait for our lives to be over …" Tears well in her eyes, but I keep going. "Yes, this is fast and hands-down the craziest thing I've ever done or will probably ever do in my life, but I've never been more sure of anything. This feels right because it is right." I squeeze her hand a little tighter and gaze deeply into her eyes. "So, tell me, Schapelle…Will it be yes, or will it be sorry?"