Chapter 11 Grace
GRACE
Twenty minutes later we’re dangling our feet in an oversized puddle as warm water trickles over them. I’ve lived on Wild Heart Mountain for the last few years, and I’ve never been to this spot. Hot pools are found on the far side of the lake, but this small pool is a hidden gem.
We’re sitting side by side on a flat rock with our thighs pushed together. There’s limited space, but it’s perfect for us.
Our hands rest on Calvin’s lap, our fingers interlaced. I don’t know what came over me in the forest. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve never run naked through the trees, but there’s something about Calvin’s uptightness and disapproving look that makes me want to push his buttons.
I smile to myself at the memory and touch my chest, feeling the sticky residue on my skin.
He surprised me with that last maneuver, and I’m glad I pushed him to lose control. Under the veil of responsible sheriff, there’s a man with some wildness in him.
I don’t know what this is between us, but I don’t question it. I’m enjoying the sensation of my hand resting in his and the taste of him that lingers on my tongue.
I’ve been quizzing Calvin about the military, and he’s told me a little, but like most military men I’ve met, they don’t like talking about it.
“So why did you leave?”
He goes silent, and the only sounds are the trickle of water and the distant hum of machinery from the mill.
“There was an accident at home,” he says eventually. “My fiancé died.”
My neck snaps around to face him, and there it is. The hurt on his face, the pain I’ve glimpsed.
“Oh, Calvin, I’m so sorry.”
He looks down at our feet and pushes his toes under the small waterfall where the water bursts through from its underground passage.
“She was killed in a drunk driving accident.”
The breath goes out of my chest, and I smother a gasp. No wonder he’s such a stickler for road rules.
“She was out drinking at the Lodge; I was away on tour.” He takes his hand from mine and bunches up his fist, his voice going tight.
“I don’t know why she got in that car that night.
” He looks into the distance, the pain of the memory clear on his face.
“She got in a car with a friend who’d been drinking and… ”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know what it’s like to lose someone on the roads. The sheer unfairness of it all when you wonder why them? Why that car? Why that day?
My hand squeezes his thigh. “I’m so sorry.”
“I wasn’t here for her.”
“There’s nothing you could have done.”
But he’s not listening. He’s far away, the memory bringing up his grief.
“If I’d been here, Katie would have called me. I would have come and got her. If I was here, she probably wouldn’t have been out drinking to start with.”
What he’s saying is unfair, but I remember having the same thoughts about my mom. If I hadn’t drunk all the milk, she wouldn’t have needed to go to the grocery store that evening. It took a long time for Dad to convince me that she was picking up more than just milk, and it wasn’t my fault.
“I flew back as soon as I could for the funeral. I pulled the file when I became sheriff and looked at the photos. I got out a magnifying glass and went over them, trying to make sense of the crash.” He shakes his head.
“But there’s no making sense of it. The car was mangled.
She died on impact. She wouldn’t have even known it was coming. ”
They said the same about my mom. It’s supposed to be comforting, but I’ve always found that to be the most haunting thing of all.
She didn’t see it coming. You could die any day. Any of us could, and we wouldn’t see it coming.
A shiver goes through me, and he puts his arm around me. I lean against his solid chest, anchoring myself to this man I barely know.
“I guess that’s why you feel responsible for everyone on the mountain.”
“Yes,” he says quietly. “I let Katie down by not being there when she needed me. I swore at her funeral that I wouldn’t let anyone else on this mountain down.”
It’s a big responsibility for one man. Too big. And it explains why he’s the way he is.
When I met Calvin twenty-four hours ago, he seemed like an uptight ass. Hot as hell, but an ass. Now I see him for what he really is: a troubled, kind-hearted man, trying to atone for his lost fiancé.
His loss made him overly protective; my loss made me reckless. I’m beginning to think maybe neither of us got it right.