Chapter 17
Katelyn
“I cannot believe you can sing like that and you held out on me,” Garrison says as we climb the stairs toward our floor.
Feeling lighter than I have in years, I laugh. “I could say the same to you. Violin is not a common instrument.”
He shrugs and opens the door for me. It’s such a simple action, but it absolutely thrills me. “Like I said, it was my aunt’s favorite instrument, so I learned it for her birthday.”
“Like I told you the other day, she was lucky to have you.”
Garrison smiles down at me, his gaze holding mine. Logically, I know I should look away. Staring up at him like this will do nothing but put me exactly where I’ve been determined not to go.
But would it really be so bad to be loved by a man like Garrison Holt? To be held in kindness?
Garrison clears his throat and starts down the hallway toward his apartment, a bag of dirty clothes in his hand. I was beyond grateful Anastasia brought us a change when she came out because, while they were dry, the clothes had stiffened thanks to the saltwater.
“Thanks for today. It was—” I sigh. “The first time in thirteen years I did anything for myself.”
He unlocks his door, then pushes it open and turns toward me. “I know I’ve said it before, but it deserves saying again: You’re a great mom, Katelyn.”
“I try.” I smile, feeling a bit guilty that this was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time, and my son wasn’t here to enjoy it. “We’ll have to take Thomas out when he comes back. That is if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’d love to take you guys out again. I had more fun today than I have in a long time.”
I swallow hard.
I’d love to date you.
Oh how those words are ringing through my mind right now, right along with my response. I’m pretty sure, with my refusal of those few words, I managed to break my own heart before I’d even had the chance to give it to Garrison.
“Well, I need to get cleaned up.” I move into his apartment, and when he closes the door behind me, realization sets in. Along with the understanding of just how much trouble I’m in.
My heart begins to pound.
I’m alone with him.
The last time I was alone with a man—I shake my head. Garrison is not Victor. Not now. Not ever.
We’ve been alone together before. A few times over the last week. When Thomas was at school or out with friends. This is no different.
“I’ll get our clothes in the wash. You want some tea?” he questions as he moves away from me and into the kitchen.
“Yeah. Tea would be good.” I watch him, that bit of fear dissipating with each passing moment until my entire body relaxes. He has that ability, this man I tried so hard not to get to know. No one in this world can bring me the peace that Garrison Holt offers just by being present. “Hey, Garrison?”
“Yeah?” He glances back at me, dark hair a mess on top of his head. So very handsome.
“Thanks for everything,” I tell him. “You’ve quickly become one of two people in this world I trust. And I don’t think you know just how important that is.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to never break that trust, Katelyn,” he replies, tone low and deep.
I smile and take a deep breath despite the emotion burning in my throat.
It’s the closest I’ve come to telling him how I feel.
To confessing that, though I was once worried about my son getting too close to him, now I know leaving him would shatter the remaining pieces of my own heart. “I know you will. See you in a few.”
Leaving him behind, I move into the bathroom. After turning the water on to warm up, I strip out of my clothes and set them in a pile to carry into my room later. Then, I turn toward the mirror—instantly regretting when I do.
There are a lot of things from my past that I try to avoid. Triggers that spark memories better left as dead and buried as my ex.
The jagged scar that runs the length of my side is one of those triggers. A horrible reminder of the pain I suffered at his hands. I gently touch the puckered skin, the memory flooding back plain as day.
Victor got angry and threw me into a pane of glass that separated the dining room from the living room. It shattered, slicing into me. I know, even without seeing them, that there are at least a dozen more of these on my back.
Then he’d tossed a towel down onto me and told me to stop the bleeding and to keep my mouth shut. That it was my fault.
No one at the hospital ever suspected a thing. They all truly believed the story that I’d tripped and fallen into the glass.
And why wouldn’t they?
There were no other marks on me.
And Victor was the best actor.
I swallow hard, throat burning as I turn away from the mirror and back toward the shower. Thomas had been two weeks old. They’d blamed my clumsiness on my exhaustion as a new mother.
After all, who would suspect the charming quarterback?
“That smells really good.” Freshly showered, I step into the kitchen. My mood may have been soured by the unwanted memory, but my stomach growls in response to the scents coming out of the kitchen.
Garrison looks up from where he’s standing in the kitchen. “I know I said just tea, but I was hungry. Falling out of a boat will do that to a person.” He flashes me a smile to let me know he’s not the least bit annoyed with our unplanned swim.
“Yeah, I guess it will.” I force a smile and take a seat on one of his barstools to watch him cook what looks like taco meat.
“You feel up for nachos?”
“Always.”
His adorable crooked grin thaws a bit of the ice my memory of Victor placed around me. But when he turns to fully face me, head cocked to the side, I know that once again—he’s seeing too much.
Too much of me.
Of my past.
How am I supposed to keep things hidden if he makes me want to spill every single memory weighing me down? Would he protect my secrets? Would he hold me as I unloaded everything I’ve been carrying for far too long?
“What is it?” he asks.
I could tell him. I know, without a doubt, I can trust him. But I just can’t bear to see him look at me differently. “I’m just tired.”
Garrison nods, but I can see that he doesn’t believe me. It’s written all over his face. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“I know.”
“Then I’ll take your excuse.” He winks and turns back toward the stove. “You hear any more from Thomas?”
A bit of my resolve dissipates. I want so badly to have someone to talk to, but the last person I confided in—I shake my head. No. I will not go there. “Not since he went to sleep. He’s on cloud nine. So beyond excited about baseball camp. I doubt he’ll want to come home.”
“Nah, he will. He’ll miss you too much.”
More of that ice melts. “Thanks for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
Silence wraps around us, both a comfort and a weight I desperately want to shed. When it’s too quiet, the darkness hiding in the recesses of my mind escapes. Little by little, it taunts me.
I clear my throat. “So, why did Sawyer call you Demo earlier?”
Garrison lets out a laugh as he begins shredding cheese. “It was my code name.”
“Code name?”
He nods. “We all had them. Zane—you haven’t met him yet—is Cap, Sawyer is Cable Guy, Weston is Cowboy, and Ryker is Tank.”
I snort. “I can definitely see the last two. But Sawyer as Cable Guy? Like the movie?”
“Nah. Sawyer’s specialty is—was—communications.”
“Is it hard? Transitioning from the military to being a civilian?”
He piles some chips onto a plate, then spoons some taco meat over the top. “It is. We actually worked off-books for six years, which made the transition even harder if I’m honest. There was no final day for us. We worked, and then one day, they didn’t need us anymore.”
“That is hard.”
He shrugs. “I have the community center, Sawyer has his shop, Weston has the ranch, Zane’s got Tessa now, and Ryker’s been talking about becoming a cop.”
I can see his pain, though. The grief he must feel over such a rapid life change. “Still, when you get the rug pulled out from under you, sometimes it’s hard to get back on your feet.”
He glances over at me. “You’d know something about that.”
“Yeah, I guess I would.” I think of how happy I was when I graduated nursing school.
It was all I wanted to do. Help people. Then, before I even had the chance to finish my first year, Victor happened.
I was thrown into a gilded cage after that, only let up for air when it suited him. When I had a part to play.
“Here you go.” Garrison slides a large plate between us. A heaping pile of chips, meat, cheese, beans, sour cream, and a side of jalapenos.
Even though I ate what Anastasia and Jack brought out to the campsite earlier, my stomach growls.
“Can I?” He reaches out a hand, so I slide mine into his, trying to ignore the way his touch ignites a flame long gone cold. “Lord, we thank You for this meal. Please let it nourish our bodies, amen.”
“Amen.”
He releases my hand and starts eating.
“So, what does Demo stand for then?”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot you asked.” He laughs. “Demolition.”
“Demolition, as in blowing things up?” I stop, chip halfway to my mouth, and stare at him. Of all the words I would use to describe him, Demolition wouldn’t even come close to making the list.
“Yeah. The guys like to joke because I’m good at putting out fuses here, but in the field, I’m all about lighting them.”
“So you, like, actually blow stuff up?”
He nods. “Strategically, but yes.”
I finish chewing and swallow, then shake my head in awe. “Just know that, if Thomas finds out, he will pepper you with questions until you can’t take it anymore.”
Garrison laughs. “I can take a lot.”
I imagine there’s not much that rattles you. “I’m honestly surprised.”
“Why?”
“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes to destroy things.”
“I don’t think of it as destruction.” He leans in, resting his forearms on the counter so he’s eye-level with me.
“More like removing an obstacle so what’s really important stays standing.
” He stands. “For example, our last mission had Zane, Sawyer, and Ryker trapped behind enemy lines. They’d gone in to rescue a teenage girl, and we had significantly underestimated the number of hostiles.
I came in and strategically placed charges so I could drop the floor above where they were being held. ”
“And the girl?” I question, hanging on his every word.
“She survived.”
I let out a breath, so grateful for the life of a girl I’ve never met and likely never will. “How many missions like that did you go on?”
“I honestly have no clue. We received orders, and we went.”
“Simple as that?”
“Simple as that,” he replies. “Water?” But his tone suggests there was a lot more to it than simply following orders. And if I weren’t so afraid of him tugging my secrets loose, I might have tried to press further.
“Yes, please.”
Garrison turns away and retrieves two water bottles from the kitchen. He opens one before offering it to me, then opens his own.
Another simple gesture, just like the door, and yet— “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” I blurt.
“Don’t meet many demolition experts in your day-to-day?”
I snort. “No, that’s not what I meant. You’re just—” I trail off, trying to choose my words carefully so I don’t end up telling him exactly how hard I’m falling for him.
Sweet gesture by sweet gesture, he’s repairing the damage Victor inflicted.
“Sweet. Most men would have already tried something, and you’re making me nachos. ”
A hint of a smile plays at his mouth. “You told me you wanted to be friends. So this is me, making my friend something to eat. I also plan to make my friend tea once I’ve showered.” He straightens and pushes the plate toward me. “Which I’m going to go do right now. Need anything before I go?”
Just you. “No, I’m okay.” I lift another chip from the plate. “Thanks, Garrison. For everything.”
“Anytime, Katelyn.” He moves past me and into his room, then closes the door behind him. Moments later, I hear the shower turn on, and I stare at the door, half-hoping he’ll come rushing out and tell me that he doesn’t want to be just friends.
That it’s not enough anymore.
And I’m also half terrified that he will do just that.