One Night with her Bachelor (20 page)

She opened the truck’s door but he grabbed her arm and stopped her when she was halfway out. “Molly—”

She twisted to face him, hope welling up inside her.

“I’m sorry if things weren’t clear between us. I just wanted to help you have some fun, that’s all. I never expected it to get this far.”

And with that, he splintered her hope into a thousand pieces.

She got out of the truck, wishing she could say something clever or witty, something—
anything
—to prove to them both that his words hadn’t destroyed her. But she had no fight left in her. She started to close the door but forced herself to say one last thing because she couldn’t let him go without him knowing it. “I really appreciate everything you did for us, Gabriel. And for Scott. If it hadn’t been for you—” She swallowed hard. “I can’t even bear to think about it. Please take care of yourself. You deserve happiness, too.”

And then she closed the door and went inside before she fell apart.

‡

G
abriel trudged through
the snow to his cabin, his prosthesis making the trek painful and slow. He carried the bag Molly had given him. Whatever it contained was big and soft, like a pillow but heavier. He hadn’t worked up the guts to undo the tape around it, and when he got home he tossed it onto his kitchen table so he could boil water for coffee. He doubted he’d sleep tonight anyway, so he might as well get himself jacked up on caffeine before heading to his workshop.

The bag almost seemed to stare at him as he stripped off his outer layers and built up the fire in the fireplace. Wherever he went in the cabin, he felt it drawing him back.

Muttering a curse, he stomped back to the kitchen and ripped open the plastic bag. Out tumbled a rainbow blanket—one of those kinds that was knitted or crocheted or somehow made with yarn.

He grabbed two corners of it and held them out. It was
massive
. It probably had two hundred small squares made out of fifty different colors, and they’d been woven together with black yarn that made the colors seem all the more vibrant. It was the brightest thing in his house.

She’d bought him a blanket? It was thoughtful and sweet and made his gut hurt a little.

He carried it to his bedroom and threw it over his bed, smoothing it out so he could get the full effect.

And that was when he saw it. One of the corner squares wasn’t as plain as the others. It was light green and had a design woven into it in purple yarn. He looked at it for a second before shock hit him. It wasn’t a design. It was a number: $27.32.

She’d made it. She’d made him a blanket—something to wrap himself up in. Something to keep him warm at night. Something to brighten his dreary home.

He shoved the blanket to the side and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. The woman who had so little time for herself had devoted it to him.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he lay down, gently pulled the blanket over himself and buried his face in it as he tried to shut out everything it meant.

Memories feasted on him every night for a week. During the days, he busied himself in his workshop, but at night he had nothing to distract his mind. He was used to memories of Scott’s death invading his dreams, turning them into fitful nightmares, but now—under the weight of Molly’s blanket—new memories took root. Holding her in his arms. Watching her unbridled joy as she twirled in the snow. Dancing with her. Kissing her. Feeling her passion break apart as her body clutched at his.

Her heartbreaking confession—the one that had ripped open all his insecurities—echoed in his head night after night as he fought to fall asleep.
I’ve experienced a lot of grief, and that’s what Josh’s injury is like. I’m grieving the life he could’ve had.

What kind of life would Gabriel have had if his final mission had gone differently?

You could’ve been on the chopper Scott was on. You could’ve been just as dead as he is.

After a week of restless nights, he finally gave up on sleep. Shoving his comforter off, he sat on the edge of his bed, strapped his prosthesis on and got dressed. He went into his workshop, opened a can of mahogany wood stain and dipped a clean paint brush in.

You’re alive, asshole. Alive and alone. Deal with it.

He picked up a little wooden pendant he’d carved and stroked the brush over its stylized letters:
Never Quit
. When he’d needed a new project to distract him after dropping Molly off last Wednesday night, he hadn’t intended to make this. Unlike his other pieces, it hadn’t come from one of his grandpa’s woodworking books. The design had simply sprung to his brain and festered there until he’d had to get it out. It had taken him ages and he’d cursed it with every swipe of his blade. He’d nicked and sliced his fingers more than with any other project, but goddamn it, he’d needed to make it.

Some problems are too big to take care of on your own, Gabriel. And then the bravest thing you can do is accept help from other people.

He didn’t
want
help from other people. He
gave
help; he didn’t receive it.

I’m grieving the life he could’ve had.

Gabriel spun and threw the paint brush across the room. It hit the opposite wall and slid down to the floor with a clatter. “Shit. Shit, shit,
shit
.”

Ignoring reality was pointless. He wanted Molly, wanted her strength and wisdom and support. He wanted to be her man, to be there when she needed him. He wanted to laugh and cry with her, reminisce about Scott with her, sit quietly and simply
be
with her. He wanted to watch Josh grow and change, and he wanted to be Molly’s buffer when her love for her son cramped the boy’s independence.

Throughout those long months after Josh’s accident, he’d lived to find ways of making life easier for her. She’d become his purpose, a distraction from his own grief. After the auction, he’d focused on helping her heal, but that had been just another way to ignore the fact that he’d lost his own purpose.

He knew what it was like to live without part of himself. These last two weeks without Molly felt infinitely worse. Her loss was a constant itch, reminding him she was missing from his life. Reminding him he didn’t feel whole without her.

He stared down at the pendant.

Never quit.

His mind filled with a vision of Josh laughing as Gabriel lifted his wheelchair off the ground. Molly swallowing her pride and walking onstage to thank a town that had gathered to help her. Scott breathing his last words as Gabriel carried him and ran for the chopper: “Get me home, buddy.”

The three bravest people he knew accepting help when they needed it most.

He wanted to feel worthy of them, but he needed to make a few changes of his own first. He picked up a new paintbrush and dipped it into the wood stain. It was going to be a hell of a long few days.

*

Molly picked up
the bell sitting on the corner of her desk and rang it. Twenty children gasped and turned to face her with wild-eyed excitement. She bit back her smile. Even though she rang the bell for recess three times a day, the kids still looked surprised at their luck every single time.

“Who’s ready for recess?”

Little hands shot into the air as bottoms wriggled on their seats.

“Everyone line up behind our line leader.”

Madison Williams burst out of her chair and speed-walked to the door, her bearing as straight and proud as any soldier’s to be this week’s leader. The other kids fell into line behind her, and Molly winked at her teaching assistant, Sarah, who would supervise the kids for the next twenty minutes while Molly prepared their art session. Since all of the school’s other students were on a different schedule than the kindergarten, Molly reminded the kids of one of their rules. “Okay, what kind of voices do we need to use in the hallways?”

“Cotton-ball voices,” the kids stage whispered.

“That’s right.” She made her voice very quiet. “Voices as soft as cotton balls. Have fun, and play nicely.”

The kids left with Sarah, and Molly went into the teachers’ supply room to grab the construction paper she needed. Claudine was in there loading up on paints for her fourth-graders. “Hey, Mol.”

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Crazy. It’s Tucker’s birthday, so his mom brought in Spider Man cupcakes, and the kids are high on sugar. She brought a batch for the teachers too. They’re in the lounge, if you want one.”

“Mmm, Spider Man. My favorite flavor.”

Claudine laughed. “I know, right? Oh, before I forget, I kinda went on a shopping spree this weekend and I need to make room in my closet. If you want any of my clothes, let me know. I can bring them in tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Molly fought her natural inclination to turn the offer down. She’d felt like a charity case so much lately that she’d become overly sensitive about kind gestures. But dang it, she’d loved wearing Claudine’s clothes a couple weeks ago, and she couldn’t afford her own shopping spree.

“So sure. If there’s anything you don’t want, just leave it in the bag and I’ll see if anyone else wants it.”

“Thanks, Claudine. That’s really sweet.”

Claudine snorted. “Are you kidding? You’d be doing me a favor. Right now my new stuff is all spread out on the couch because I don’t have enough hangers. I’d buy more hangers but there literally isn’t room in the closet. Plus, when you tried my clothes on before, you looked way cuter than I do in them.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’ll take your old stuff any time.”

Claudine grabbed her box of paints and nudged Molly’s shoulder with hers on her way out. “Why don’t we go out sometime? We only ever hang out here, and I think we’d have fun together.”

Molly smiled. “I’d like that. Let me look at Josh’s schedule and we can plan something.”

“Cool. See you later. And don’t forget the Spider Man cakes.” Claudine left, and Molly couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. In the two weeks since Gabriel dropped her off, she’d been challenging herself to do something scary—making time for herself. Whether it was taking a candlelit bath before bed or going for a walk on her lunch break, she took time every day to be alone with her thoughts. She’d treated herself to her first haircut in months and even found time to read a whole novel. Now she would let herself accept new clothes and the offer of friendship-outside-of-work from Claudine.

It helped that Josh was becoming more and more settled. His friends had welcomed him back to school with open arms. Construction workers were modifying their house to make it more wheelchair friendly. Most importantly, she’d discovered a group of kids in Bozeman who’d suffered life-changing injuries. It was early days, but she was making friends with several parents who were helping her overcome her own fears and focus on encouraging Josh to discover how many things he
could
do.

One of those things was spending the night at friends’ houses. Tomorrow was Friday, and he’d been invited to a slumber party at Jake’s house. Last Saturday, they’d had a trial run. She’d spent the night with him at Jake’s, mostly for the comfort of Jake’s parents and her, so they could all be confident about the other family’s ability to see to Josh’s needs without making him feel singled-out in front of his friends. The night had gone off without a hitch, and Josh hadn’t stopped talking about it since.

Tomorrow he would go home from school with Jake, and she would have a whole night on her own. A whole night of forcing herself not to think about Gabriel.

The more she thought about him, the more certain she became that his talk about just wanting to help her have fun was bull crud. She might’ve believed it if he hadn’t gone out of his way to look after her in the months Josh was recovering in Boulder. Participating in the auction and taking her out had been difficult for him—she had no doubt about that. Plus, he’d confessed she was the first woman he’d been intimate with since the crash. That had to mean something, right?

But maybe he’d needed no-strings-attached fun as much as she had.