Chapter 14 #2
She followed him. The wind had teeth now, biting through her jacket.
“Jericho—”
He whirled. “Is this how it’s going to be? You running straight at danger while I show up praying you’re still alive?”
She recoiled. But rebounded fast. Hello—“That’s my job.”
“Do you know . . .” He held up a hand. “You make me crazy.”
Her mouth opened.
He stared at her, breathing hard, shaking a little.
“JB—”
He held up a hand when she stepped forward. “I just . . . I need a second.”
He yanked open his truck door. Orlando stood beside her, pressed against her leg like a furry shadow.
“Orlando, come.”
The dog didn’t move.
“Orlando.” Steel edged Jericho’s voice. “Come.”
This time the dog obeyed, jumping into the cab. She started forward, snow crunching under her boots. “So you’re just walking away? Just like that?”
He wore an almost stripped expression. Sighed, and finally his voice dropped.
“I can’t.” He shook his head, stared away from her.
“I’ve spent my whole life looking for people in trouble.
I . . .” The emotion in his gaze when he turned ripped through her.
“I tried, Harley. I really tried. But I can’t .
. . I can’t watch this. I can’t do this. ”
Her mouth opened again. Wait. “What are you saying?”
“How am I supposed to protect you when you just . . . you don’t look—”
“You’re not supposed to protect me!”
Oh, that was the wrong thing to say, because he drew in a breath, then swallowed, the emotion clearing from his eyes. “You’re right. You don’t need me. You’re doing just fine on your own.”
He turned toward the truck.
“Of course you’re leaving,” she said, the words just spiking out. Her eyes burned. “I knew you would bail on me.”
He stared at her, his mouth a little open. Then he just nodded, his mouth turning into a grim line.
He got in the driver’s seat and shut the door.
She folded her arms against herself and stepped back as the truck roared away, tires spraying gravel, until his taillights disappeared into the gathering dusk.
Fine. Whatever.
Really. She was doing fine on her own, thank you very much.
But she stared at the pewter gray sky and wished she wasn’t lying to herself.
“STOP LOOKING at me that way.” Jericho glanced at Orlando in the front seat, the way the dog kept eyeing him, with those sad brown eyes. “I know I’m a jerk, okay?”
He should turn the truck around—and it only occurred to him then that he’d abandoned his brother at the scene about three miles down the road.
He’d been impulsive and angry and . . . scared.
But okay, maybe his words had stirred up from a truth inside—she didn’t need him to protect her.
But that wasn’t how he was built.
Snow peeled from the sky by the time Jericho pulled into the resort drive, fat flakes catching in the headlights. He sat there, engine running, staring at nothing. Orlando whined, nose pressed against the window.
Overhead, the sky had darkened—they’d have fresh snow on the mountain tomorrow. Light spilled from the kitchen window of the lodge.
The urge to run pulsed through him. Wow, he was eighteen again. He banged his hand on his steering wheel, then got out.
Orlando followed him, then ran ahead to the kitchen as Jericho pulled off his boots.
“You guys get the boiler fixed?” Sully stood at the stove when Jericho walked in, frying up what looked like venison burgers.
Kennedy mashed potatoes at the counter, the smell reaching out to pull him the rest of the way into the kitchen.
Jericho went to the fridge and opened the door, found Orlando’s food. Then he filled his bowl.
Orlando chomped it down.
“Yeah,” Jericho said. He walked into the small half bath off the kitchen to wash his hands. “I can’t watch this. I can’t do this.”
He stared at himself in the mirror, shook his head.
She’d looked stripped as he drove away.
Great job, Jer.
He grabbed a towel, wiped his hands, then came out of the bathroom.
“Hud called. Asked if you were all right.” Sully plated the burgers and grabbed a bag of buns. “Want to talk about it?”
Jericho slid onto a booth. “Did he mention that he was at a crime scene? Pete Barrow is dead. Harley found him.”
Kennedy put the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. “She okay?”
“Yes.” His word emerged clipped. “Fine.”
She raised an eyebrow and glanced at her husband.
Sully brought the burgers, now nestled into buns, over to the table. “And that’s . . . a bad thing?”
Jericho leaned back, his head against the wall. “No. Just . . .”
Kennedy set a root beer on the table in front of him. “You were worried.”
He opened it.
“That looks like more than worry,” Sully said. He added ketchup to the table, then pulled out a chair. “Mr. Cool J was scared.”
He gave Sully an eye. “She’s going to get herself killed.”
“Maybe,” Kennedy said as she settled into a kitchen chair. “Or maybe she’s doing her job.”
He looked out the window. “Thank you for that newsflash.”
“Hey,” Sully said.
Jericho closed his eyes, pinching his nose. “Sorry. I’m being a jerk.”
Silence and then Kennedy’s hand touched his arm.
“It’s not wrong to worry about people you love, Jericho.
There’s no fault in it. You wouldn’t be a man—wouldn’t be you—if you didn’t want to protect her.
” She squeezed his arm. “You can’t be everywhere, can’t protect her from life, can’t foresee every danger.
Things happen, and you’re just going to have to figure out how to live with that ache inside. ”
“Seems to me this isn’t about protecting Harley,” Sully said carefully. “It’s about you. It’s about feeling helpless and overwhelmed and . . .”
He frowned at Sully. To his knowledge, Sully couldn’t read minds.
Except, he did know about the avalanche, and who knew what his brothers said when he wasn’t around. Still. “Me?”
Sully reached for a burger. “Yeah. Mr. Save the World. Except you can’t, and that drives you wild. It’s why you left Copper Mountain. Why you left the military. Why you left Montana.” He met his brother’s gaze. “Why you’re going to leave us again.”
“I’m not . . .”
Sully raised an eyebrow.
Fine, despite his words to Hudson, it had been his first thought driving back from Pete’s place.
Pack. Leave.
Run.
Wow, he hadn’t changed at all.
Still. “I don’t think I can be that guy who watches her run straight at danger. But I can’t be the kind of man who holds her back either.” He looked at Kennedy. “I know it’s her job.”
“Running away didn’t work so well last time. That’s why you came back to Copper Mountain.” Sully took a drink, set his mug down. “Maybe instead of running, you need to figure out why you’re so scared of staying.”
He drew in a breath.
“Better to leave than watch her die?” Kennedy said.
Oh. But he sighed. “Something like that.”
“No, that’s just an excuse,” Sully said softly, then looked at his wife. “It’s because you know that no matter what happens, things go south. You can’t be enough to stop, well, bad things from happening. And that requires you to trust.”
“How can I trust her—”
“God.”
Oh.
Sully leaned back. “You were never meant to save her, or the world. In fact, that’s a little arrogant, bro. I get it, but that’s just pride.”
He cocked his head. “Wow. Don’t hold back.”
Kennedy put a hand over his. “Jericho, you might consider that God sent you because you’re supposed to be here. Maybe God is using you to protect her. Because you love her. But loving her means you need to depend not more on yourself—or Harley—but on God.”
And, of course, the argument still resounded in his head. “I’ve spent my whole life looking for people in trouble.”
Jericho reached for a burger.
The door opened in the front room, and a few minutes later, Hudson came in. Glanced around the room. “I expected to see whiskey. Neon lights. Jericho at the bar saying ‘pour me another shot.’”
“I don’t drink,” Jericho growled.
Hudson reached for a plate. “So you lost your sense of humor back there when you abandoned everything else.”
Jericho stared at his plate, his appetite gone. “Sorry I left you.”
“I got a ride from Crew. But if you think this is about you abandoning me—”
Jericho got up, carrying his plate. He gave his half-eaten burger to Orlando, then put the dish in the dishwasher. “I’m closing down my tab for the night. I have no friends in this crowd.”
He saw Hudson smirk as he left the room.
At least Orlando followed him. The dog hopped on his bed—made, thank you so much.
He opened his closet door. Glanced at the duffel bag he’d shoved onto the shelf.
“You were never meant to save her, or the world. In fact, that’s a little arrogant, bro.”
He closed the door and stood by the window a moment. Outside, snow continued to fall, covering everything in clean white grace.
Jericho pulled out his phone and set it on the side table.
No messages from Harley.
And he should probably text her, but frankly . . .
He sat, put his head in his hands. “I knew you would bail on me.”
He deserved that.
Beside him, Orlando sighed.
Jericho laid down, stared at the ceiling. He should sleep. He had promised to head back out to the ski resort tomorrow, their Monday training check-in. So, he had to be there before dawn to check conditions.
But, of course, the fight with Harley just rebounded, round and round in his head.
They hadn’t a prayer of starting over because it would only end up in the same disastrous place.
What was the old saying? You can’t do the same thing over and over again and expect different results.
They needed more than a clean slate, more than a fresh start.
They needed to be different people.
He must have slept because his phone alarm buzzed. He rose in the darkness, got up, dressed, made coffee, and was out on the slope just as dawn painted the mountain rose-gold, sunlight catching virgin snow like scattered diamonds.
The resort lay quiet, waiting for the day’s first chairlifts to start turning. But right now, a deep peace settled over the valley, the mountain, captured in the serene whiteness of Aurora Basin.