Chapter 22 Gideon
GIDEON
Juliana had been avoiding him.
Not in the obvious, slam-the-door, refuse-to-make-eye-contact way.
No, she was too polite for that. But the last couple days she’d managed to be everywhere he wasn’t—helping Cassie with the kids, riding along with Jason to pick up feed, slipping out early from family dinners with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Gideon knew enough to recognize when someone was dodging him, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Before this shift, they’d been finding their rhythm.
They were laughing more, lingering over coffee in the mornings at the lodge, falling into easy conversation that didn’t feel forced.
He’d even started to think maybe they were moving past the awkward start and into something that could stick.
He’d been ready—itching, really—to take the next step, whatever that looked like for them.
The explanation came mid-morning when his phone buzzed and Ruby Thompson’s name lit the screen.
“Hey,” he answered, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear as he tightened a bolt on the snowblower. “What’s up?”
“Oh, now you answer your phone?” she said with a laugh.
Gideon shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. Phones were great, but it wasn’t like he could text and mountain bike at the same time.
“If you give me a hard time, I’ll just ignore your call next time,” he replied.
“Fine, fine. I was just making sure you got the folder I left for you,” Ruby said. “I handed it to Juliana the other day since I was heading out of town for the holidays and couldn’t get ahold of you.”
The wrench slipped in his hand, knuckles cracking hard against the frame. “You . . . what?”
Ruby’s tone sharpened. “She didn’t give it to you?”
“She didn’t,” he said, already picturing exactly what was inside that manila folder and the expression Juliana must’ve worn when she opened it. His gut twisted. “When was this?”
“We left Tuesday night and I gave it to her that afternoon.”
“I gotta go.”
He didn’t wait for Ruby’s reply. He hung up, dropped the wrench, and headed straight for the lodge.
Snow crunched under his boots as he crossed the lot, his breath coming faster than it should’ve for the short walk.
A dark sedan idled near the front steps, the blue RideShare decal glowing in the windshield.
Probably here for one of the lodge guests, he figured.
Someone heading into town for last-minute Christmas shopping or an early dinner reservation.
The driver leaned on the steering wheel, glancing between his phone and the front door like he was counting seconds. “I’m looking for Juliana Emerson?” the guy asked when Gideon approached.
For a beat, Gideon just stared at him, the words slotting into place like a punch to the gut. She was leaving. Leaving without saying a word. The heat rose fast in his chest, chasing out the cold.
“Not anymore,” Gideon said, forcing his voice steady. “She won’t be needing a ride.” He pulled out his wallet and handed the guy the biggest bills he had.
The driver gave him a puzzled look but shrugged and tapped at his phone. Gideon stood there until the car pulled away, its taillights disappearing down the snowy road.
He told himself it was just irritation, being blindsided like that.
But the truth pressed harder. This wasn’t just about her skipping out without a goodbye.
It was the way she’d been avoiding him for days, slipping away like sand through his fingers, and now here was the proof she was ready to walk away completely.
Panic edged in beneath the anger, sharp and cold.
He’d been stupid enough to think they were turning a corner—that the barn dance, the sleigh ride, the quiet moments in between had meant something to her the way they had to him.
He’d been ready to take the next step. Apparently, she’d been planning her exit.
The door swung open just as he reached it, and there she was. She had her coat on, bag over her shoulder, eyes widening as she spotted the empty drive behind him. She glanced back at her phone.
“Where’s my ride?”
He swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “I told him you wouldn’t need it.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You did what?”
“Juliana, just—”
“It took me two hours to get that ride arranged!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the hum of the lobby’s Christmas music.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get from here to the airport in Grand Junction? You already wrecked all my plans once. Can’t you just stay out of it for once? ”
The hit landed, even if she hadn’t meant it to be fatal.
He stared at her, feeling the fight drain into something heavier.
“If I thought staying out of it meant you’d be happy, maybe I could.
But I don’t think running is gonna fix whatever’s making you bolt.
You were just gonna slip out of here? No note. No call. Not even a goodbye?”
Her chin lifted. “What would you have wanted me to say? That I’m leaving because I don’t know what’s real anymore? That maybe I was wrong to think—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” he shot back. “You think you can just run off and that’s it? After everything—after the last few weeks—you’re just walking away without giving me a chance to make it right?”
Her arms folded tight across her chest. “You don’t even know what right would be for me.”
“Then tell me,” he pressed, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’re giving up. On this. On us. And I thought we were at least worth a conversation before you threw in the towel.”
“You’re the one who asked a lawyer to draw up annulment papers!”
He shook his head and scoffed. “Yeah, I did. A month ago, Jules! When I thought that was what you wanted.”
She didn’t answer, just brushed past him and tried to head back inside.
But he wasn’t letting her go without a fight.
In the end, if she chose that fancy hotel job over him and the ranch, so be it.
Gideon wasn’t going to let her go thinking that he didn’t want her.
Because he’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to call Julliana his.
To unravel her careful composure at every opportunity and go on trips around the world with a meticulous itinerary he could convince her to ignore—at least partially.
He wanted her to alphabetize his spice rack and rearrange his bookshelves by genre. He wanted her to tease him about his broken truck and teach him how to make a bed with hospital corners.
He just wanted her.
He reached out before he could think better of it, his fingers closing gently around her wrist.
“Come with me,” he said, giving a light tug to draw her back toward him.
Her eyes flashed, defiant and guarded all at once, but under it, he caught a flicker of curiosity.
“Where?”
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
She glanced toward her bags, still sitting on the porch as if they were just waiting to be loaded up and carried out of his life.
“Leave them,” he said. “They’ll be fine.”
She sighed, the kind of sound that told him she already knew he wasn’t going to let her walk away this easily.
“You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”
“Nope.” He managed a shadow of his usual grin, though it felt heavier than it looked. “We’re going for a ride, and we’re going to talk about all the things we’ve been sidestepping since the barn dance.”
While she’d been trying to figure out a way out of this marriage, he’d been slowly falling in love with her.
He’d discovered in Tealua that there was more underneath her poised exterior, and in Redemption Ridge, he’d slowly uncovered it little by little.
And the more he exposed the multi-faceted woman—with a surprisingly sarcastic sense of humor and a vulnerable spirit? The more he wanted to see.
She wasn’t the one he would have guessed, but if anything had been clear the last six weeks, it was that God’s plans were far better than his own, when he had any at all.
Had Juliana finally come around to the idea that God’s plans might be better than the ones she drafted in her color-coded calendar?
If she hadn’t . . . well, he wanted to be the man who helped her see it.
She dipped her chin, a hint of challenge in her eyes. “Okay.”
Gideon didn’t release her right away. Maybe because a part of him was still reeling at how close he’d come to walking out here and finding nothing but tire tracks in the snow where she’d been.
Or maybe because some stubborn part of him still thought—no, he knew—there was more here worth fighting for.
As they stepped off the porch, the cold bit at his cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the sting in his chest. He kept his stride even, not rushing her, even though every instinct screamed to close the space, to fix whatever had cracked wide open between them before it splintered beyond repair.
A few minutes later, they were on horseback. Juliana was snuggled in a Redemption Ridge hoodie he’d found for her in his truck. The air thinned as they climbed, sharp and clean, scented with pine and the faint mineral tang of red rock warmed by the sun.
Gideon kept his gelding just ahead of hers, glancing back every so often to make sure she was steady in the saddle. She was, but that didn’t stop him from watching. From wanting to read every little shift in her posture, every glance at the sprawling vista that stretched out below them.
The higher they went, the more the world opened up—snow-dusted peaks, winding river far below, sheer cliffs of sandstone blazing copper against the winter sky.
Out here, it was impossible not to feel small.
Impossible not to remember there was more to life than whatever hurt or fear you were carrying.
And that was exactly the point.
They rode in silence for a stretch, the steady rhythm of hooves on packed snow filling the space between them.
Up here, the air had a way of stripping things down—like the mountains themselves weren’t going to put up with any nonsense.
Mostly, Gideon had been too angry to talk.
But now that they’d been at it awhile, he finally felt like he wouldn’t completely shatter if he tried to break the silence.
“You’ve been quiet,” Gideon finally said, his voice low enough that it almost blended with the creak of saddle leather.
Juliana’s gaze stayed fixed ahead. “I’ve been enjoying the view.”
“Mm-hmm.” He tugged his reins, slowing his horse until they were side by side. He let the quiet stretch a beat before speaking again. “Juliana, if you’re set on walking away, fine. But at least be honest with me—and with yourself—about why. Is it really because that’s what you want?”
Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t answer.
“Or is it because you’re scared?”
That got her. She cut him a sharp look. “I’m not scared.”
“Then tell me what it is.” He leaned forward slightly in the saddle, eyes locked on hers. “Tell me you don’t feel the same thing I do every time you’re in the room. Tell me you haven’t thought about what it would be like if we stopped fighting this.”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
“You’ve had one foot out the door since you got here. But you haven’t left. Why is that? You say you want to honor the marriage vows, but you don’t want to be my wife. I find a way to get the marriage annulled, but you don’t want that, either. Do you?”
“I want . . .” She stopped.
Gideon’s heart thundered in his chest as he silently pleaded for her to continue. Why was it so hard to admit what she wanted?
Okay, maybe that question was a little hypocritical, because until he’d been faced with the possibility of losing her, he hadn’t been willing to take the leap either.
When she didn’t finish her words, he sighed. “Can I tell you what I want, sweetheart?”
She nodded at him, a wrinkle between her eyebrows.
“I may have asked Ruby to draw up annulment papers, but I hated doing it. It was the week after the barn dance. I just knew that you were starting to like it here–maybe even like me a little.” He smirked as she rolled her eyes and huffed.
“I’m just saying . . . You were finally warming up to me, and then you had the job offer of your dreams. And I told myself that if you wanted to leave and pursue that, then I wouldn’t be the thing standing in your way. ”
“So why did you stand in my way and send my ride to the airport off without me?” The challenge in her voice was unmistakable.
“For crying out loud, Jules. If you hear me out and we have an honest conversation and you still want to leave, then I’ll drive you to Grand Junction myself. I couldn’t just let you leave without a word.”
She crossed her arms, lips pressed tight, like she was holding back more than just words. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about the ownership clause?”
Gideon sucked in a breath. “Where did you hear about that?” Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter. “I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t. The truth is, I don’t really even want it, and mostly I’d rather not think about it.”
“My mom thinks you married me so you’d become an owner,” she said, her lips twitching.
A startled laugh cut through the quiet around them. “Yeah, that sounds like me,” he said.
“That’s pretty much what I thought when she said it. I knew she was wrong. Because I know you. But then, Ruby handed me the annulment papers, and I didn’t feel like I knew you like I thought.”
“I was trying to give you freedom, Jules. I wasn’t trying to push you away. I just—” He broke off, running a hand over the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “I didn’t want to trap you here. I thought . . . I thought you’d feel stuck.”
She looked at him for a long moment before glancing toward the trail they’d been riding earlier. “And now?”
“Now,” he said, meeting her gaze without flinching, “I’m asking you to stay. Not because you have to. Because I think you want this as much as I do. But you’re scared it’s going to blow up like every other time you’ve trusted someone.”
She gave a shaky laugh that didn’t match the glassiness in her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Gideon.”
“Sure I do. I’m asking you to stop hiding behind lists and plans and just tell me. Do you want me too?”
The air between them was so still he could hear his own heartbeat, and for a moment, he thought she’d bolt. But then she whispered, “Yes.” His heart leapt in victory before she continued, “And that’s exactly the problem.”
And with those words, his hopeful heart crashed like a sky diver with a faulty parachute.