Chapter 14 Gideon
GIDEON
Gideon passed the convenience store on the edge of town with the flickering neon curry sign and the half-painted propane cage, and his stomach clenched with guilt.
It still lingered from watching Juliana practically crawl out the back window of his truck in full gastrointestinal defeat while he sat there like a useless idiot.
She’d survived. Of course she had. She was strong like that—stubborn, composed, tougher than anyone gave her credit for.
The Indian food debacle was only the latest in a long list of reminders that he wasn’t her type—not really.
She’d planned every detail for the barn dance down to the brand of toothpicks.
He woke up most days without a plan for the day.
She alphabetized pantry items. He couldn’t find the sugar half the time.
They'd spent the last week snapping at each other over everything from tree garland to appetizer placement. And somehow, every time, she still showed up the next day.
But how long before she left?
And then there was the dance. That stupid, magical, heart-destroying dance.
She’d let him pull her onto the floor, all nerves and hesitation, and for a few minutes he’d believed—really believed—that this thing between them might work.
That maybe God had nudged them together on purpose, even if the method was a little .
. . unorthodox. But then Nathan Harrison had showed up with his rich guy, polished charm.
He’d offered Juliana something she’d once built her whole identity around.
He’d offered her a second chance at the life she wanted.
Gideon stood there, cider in hand, watching her light up at the idea of running events at a boutique hotel in Scottsdale. Watching her remember what it felt like to be seen. Valued. Wanted.
It had gutted him.
Because no matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t be that. He couldn’t give her the world she came from. Couldn’t promise her she wouldn’t someday look around and wonder what she’d traded away for a flannel-shirted ranch hand with a knack for screwing things up.
That constant stream of doubts had him driving to Ruby Thompson’s office on a quiet Tuesday morning, then pacing in front of her window while she adjusted her glasses and waited for him to form a coherent sentence.
Gideon took a lap in front of her desk before finally muttering, “I’m not saying I want to end it. I’m just saying . . . I don’t want her to feel stuck. If this wasn’t real for her—if it was just a mistake—then maybe giving her an easy out is the right thing.”
Ruby, immaculately dressed as usual in a charcoal pantsuit with pointed heels and a look that could slice through a steel fence, narrowed her eyes like she was trying to examine his heart under his coat.
“Well, I guess you came to the right person. I know all about fake relationships that turn real.”
Gideon huffed a laugh. “You and Levi. This isn’t the same.”
“You sure? Started fake, ended married.” She leaned back in her chair, hands steepled. “I’m just saying that sometimes God uses very unconventional beginnings.”
“Yeah, well, this one started with hibiscus tea, a pineapple truck, and a wedding I thought was pretend. Doesn’t exactly scream ordained by the Creator.”
Ruby didn’t smile. She just watched him. Waiting.
He exhaled hard and dropped into the chair across from her. “I convinced her to eat something that nearly killed her. We argue about everything from garlands to stuffing. Then some guy in a thousand-dollar blazer offers her a dream job while I stood there holding punch like a scarecrow.”
“You forgot the part where you stared at her like a man in love,” Ruby said evenly.
His jaw twitched at the memory. Apparently, Ruby had been at the dance. “That too.”
Ruby folded her hands. “We both know this is about more than food poisoning.”
Gideon gave a humorless snort. “That was just the cherry on top. Or . . . whatever you put on curry to make it worse.”
“What do you want, Gideon? No deflecting with another joke,” she demanded.
He looked away, then back, wondering if he could admit it out loud.
“I want her. All of her. I want her in my kitchen bossing me around about onion sizes. I want her stealing my hoodies and correcting my grammar and talking with her hands when she’s fired up about pie plating strategies.
I want to wake up and hear her humming in my kitchen.
I want to argue with her about whether mashed potatoes count as an appetizer. I want to build something that lasts.”
Ruby raised a brow. “But?”
“But I don’t want her to lose herself in the process. I don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t take a job or chase a dream. I don’t want her to wake up in a year and look at me like I’m the detour.” His voice cracked slightly. “Not when I keep giving her reasons to regret it.”
Ruby tilted her head. “Has she said she feels that way?”
“No. But sometimes she doesn’t have to. I see it in the way she looks at my crooked cabinet doors and the hay on my floor and the way I forgot to preheat the oven and nearly ruined her precious stuffing.” He laughed once, quietly. “She’s not just out of my league. She’s playing a different sport.”
She didn’t rush him. Just let the words settle.
Then she leaned in. “Gideon, she didn’t come to Redemption Ridge for perfection. Far as I can tell, she came here trying to escape something. But she’s not running anymore. She’s building something. With you.”
He swallowed hard. “So why does it still feel like she’s going to leave?”
“Because you love her,” Ruby said simply. “And love always feels a little risky. But that doesn’t mean you preemptively throw the game just to save yourself the pain.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Can you just . . . draw something up? Just in case?”
“I can,” she said gently. “But I’ll also say this—don’t confuse being messy with being wrong for her. Juliana doesn’t need flawless. She needs someone who shows up and loves all of her messy parts, too. And here’s a secret: she has them.”
Gideon wasn’t sure that was true.
She continued, “You’re scared of loving someone who might leave. But you already love her. So, either give her the cleanest break you can . . . or fight like crazy to give her a reason to stay.”
Gideon didn’t respond. Because that was the part he didn’t know how to do.
Ruby stood and reached for a folder from the cabinet behind her desk. “I’ll get started. Doesn’t mean you have to use it. But if you change your mind—either way—you’ll be prepared.”
He stood slowly, brushing a hand over the front of his Carhartt. “Thanks, Ruby.”
“Anytime.” She paused at the door. “And, Gideon?”
He glanced back.
“You’d be surprised what kind of miracles start with a mistake.”