The Promise of Rainbows (25 page)

“Does that make you a bad guy, in your eyes?” she asked him. “Deciding to do something because you didn’t want to get shot?”

He could all but feel himself getting angry, and he knew he was starting to turn into that man he didn’t like much. “It certainly doesn’t make me heroic.”

“Which is why it bothered you so much when that woman told you that you were a hero,” she gently said. “Mary was her name, right?”

“Look,” he said, grinding out the words. “I don’t like anyone thinking I’m a hero. I’ve known heroes. I’m not one of them.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What have those other men done that you haven’t?”

“They save lives,” he ground out. Why couldn’t she understand? “I need to stand.”

“Go ahead,” she said, staying where she was. “So you’ve decided that you aren’t a hero because you weren’t able to save your best friend after you rescued all those other men by taking down that sniper.”

Jake walked to the window to stare out the blinds. He was glad she hadn’t drawn them. He hated having sessions without natural light. “I know what you’re thinking…”

“Do you now?” she asked, and while it was said politely, he could hear the steel in her voice—much like he’d heard it in Susannah’s yesterday.

“I’ve heard this all before,” he said, stalking back to face her. “A hero isn’t supposed to let anyone down. He’s supposed to bring back everyone in his unit. I didn’t do that.”

“Jake, you set a pretty high prize for yourself. To me, it sounds unrealistic to think any soldier can save
every
man he serves with.”

“You think I’m playing God again,” he said, and then he heard the echo of J.P.’s voice in his head, and it made him pause. Last night, his friend’s words had reached him, but today, his anger had blown them to bits. “Your son said the same thing.”

“So you talked to my son about this?” she said, a smile spreading across her face. “What else did he say?”

“Pretty much the same thing you did,” Jake said, stomping his foot. “Do think I
want
to feel like this? Like a failure? And so angry I couldn’t save Booker that I want to hit something? I wish it were as simple as y’all make it out to be, and sometimes the words make sense to me, but…”

“There’s a lot of emotion balled up inside you,” Louisa said. “That’s why yesterday was a breakthrough. It’s forcing its way out. It needs to come out, Jake.”

“If that’s what you consider a breakthrough…” he said, hanging his head. “It didn’t feel good, and it was downright scary.”

“Of course it was,” she said. “The other reason you were triggered yesterday is because of Susannah.”

His head shot up.

“You didn’t like her hearing anyone say you were a hero, and when you had your episode, you were terrified you’d fail her like you did Booker. I’ll bet your protective instincts went into overdrive, didn’t they?”

Pain shot through his temple, and he rubbed it. “I was scared I was going to kill her or get her killed in my truck. Louisa, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even change lanes and get to the shoulder.”

“And yet you finally managed to do just that,” she said softly.

“I don’t think I would have without Susannah,” he said, cracking his tense neck. “She’s a lot like you. She looks like a flower, but she’s got a spine of steel when she needs it.”

Louisa chuckled. “I’m happy to hear that. But Jake, she’s a positive force for you. That much we know. She helped you through your episode. Did you find her a comfort?”

Shifting on the couch, he looked away. She was more than a comfort. Her kisses had rocked his world and soothed his soul, but how was he supposed to tell her mama that? “Yes, she was a comfort.”

“Good,” she responded immediately. “Then you should definitely keep seeing her.”

He met her searching gaze again. “You mean you still think it’s all right for me to ask her out?”

She nodded. “I do. Her presence helped you through what happened yesterday. In my eyes, that kind of connection between humans provides the greatest opportunity for healing.”

Hadn’t J.P. said the same thing? “I’m…still not sure it’s fair to her.”

“I expect Susannah has already decided that for herself, no?”

Jeez, did she have some special sense that told her he’d kissed her daughter? “She seems to have decided, yes.” He’d awoken to a text from her at dawn, wishing him a good morning with her mama and saying she was praying for him. He was never going to delete that message.

“So what next?” he asked. “I pretty much disassociated yesterday and then got paralyzed on the road. Should I not drive your daughter anywhere when we go out together?” The thought had kept him awake last night. Maybe he wasn’t safe to operate
any
heavy machinery around her.

“How long had it been since you had an episode like that?” she asked like her daughter had.

“A couple years,” he answered, and just hearing the words out loud made him feel that he was probably overreacting.

“Then take the lessons you can from it,” Louisa said, folding her hands in her lap.

Lessons. Maybe he should write this down. “What would those be?”

“We’ve only met twice, but I think we need to focus more on you seeing yourself as someone who deserves love. You told me you concluded God doesn’t love you anymore because He didn’t answer your prayer to save Booker.”

His chest tightened. “Among other things.”

“Do you believe other people love you besides your fans?” she pressed.

The tension spreading across his temple intensified. “I’m not close to a whole lot of people anymore.” This was getting embarrassing. “Guys…don’t think about each other that way.”

“Did you love Booker?” she flat out asked him.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “Yeah. But I never told him.” He hung his head. “Not even when he was dying.” Not that it had dawned on him to do so. Everything had happened so fast, it seemed, but when his mind played it back, it seemed like they’d been running through water.

“It’s not easy for men, especially men in the military, to express their love for the people in their lives. But you express your love in your music.”

He was able to draw in a full breath as he thought about his songs. Yeah, his work allowed him to talk about love. But he longed for it more than he had it.

“Maybe now you’ll do the hard work of making yourself vulnerable. To have real connection with people, it’s important to share how you feel.”

“It’s a little awkward, don’t you think? You encouraging me to date your daughter.”

She steepled her fingers. “Let’s be clear. You want to date my daughter, and she wants to date you. It’s important for this to be
your
choice. It is
not
a tool of counseling.”

He almost cursed, which would have been wildly inappropriate. “Right. And let me be clear. I’m
not
using her as a tool to get better.”

“I know that, Jake.” Her hands rested again in her lap. “You seem tuckered out. How about we set a time for our next meeting before I give you more homework?”

Somehow he managed to suppress the groan. Hadn’t he said he would do anything? “Does it involve walking over hot coals? Because I think I would be really good at that.”

She laughed. “Most men would prefer to walk over hot coals. It satisfies the Alpha in them. I’d like to see you again this week if you have the time. How does this Friday sound?”

“I’m not on tour now, so my time is yours.” Plus he’d committed himself to getting better—no matter what.

“Good,” she said, rising to note it in her day planner. “Now, for your homework. I want you to write a letter to God.”

“A letter to…” He shook his head, gulping. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” she said brightly. “I want you to tell Him how you feel.”

Some voice in his mind shouted,
Dear God, You suck.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he drawled, thinking how short the ‘suck’ letter would be. What if part of him wanted to say other things like that? He would burn in hell for sure.

“Uncensored,” she said, waggling her brows. “You can even call him bad names if you need to get them off your chest. I don’t judge.”

“Are you…” He stopped himself from saying crazy. “Louisa—”

“Trust me,” she said, coming over and patting his arm. “You have a lot of anger stored up. Just let the words come and don’t think too much about them.”

In all his counseling sessions, no one had ever suggested something like this. “You do have some interesting ways about you, Louisa.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, embracing him.

This time he was better able to hug her back, but she still clutched him a little longer than he was comfortable.

“Now go ask my daughter out and have a good time,” she said cheerily when she released him.

He found himself clearing his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

She didn’t correct him as he left her office. His legs were heavy, and his chest pretty much felt crushed by a boulder. But when the sunlight hit his face, he found himself smiling.

Today he had permission to ask out the woman of his dreams, and that gave him hope more than anything.

Chapter 19

Susannah had tried not to fret all morning, thinking about Jake meeting with her mama. She’d alternately prayed and paced back and forth in her kitchen, drinking tea and attempting to focus on some invoicing she hadn’t completed this week. So when Jake texted her and asked if he could swing by her place, she immediately responded with her address.

After bussing her lips with some pink gloss, she stood by the window and waited for him to arrive. His truck parked on her street not long after, and she watched him carefully as he strode to her front door. His caramel-colored cowboy hat matched his leather jacket and boots. His mouth wasn’t as grim as it had been yesterday, but his shoulders looked tense.

She made her way to the front door and opened it after waiting for him to knock. She’d been raised Southern enough not to appear
too
eager.

“Hi,” she said immediately, wondering for a moment if she should hug him or kiss him in welcome.

“Hey,” he said softly, making an attempt at a smile. “Thanks for letting me swing by.”

His reserve made her unsure of herself, so she didn’t move to embrace him. “You’re always welcome. Of course, all I’ve been thinking of this morning is about you meeting with my mama and how you’re doing. Come on in.”

She stepped aside, and he entered, taking off his cowboy hat and resting it against his thigh.

“Here, let me take your hat,” she said, but he seemed a little reluctant to hand it to her. Then she realized why. He was nervous. Deciding to take a chance, she stepped close to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Whoa,” he said, but then he gently returned her embrace.

She rested her head against his chest and felt his heart beating rapidly against her ear. His body was warm, and when she didn’t release him, the tension holding him in place slowly seemed to dissolve.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he said against her hair.

That sounded ominous. “Okay.” Reluctantly, she stepped back, but she didn’t want to lose the connection between them, so she took his hand in hers. “Would you like something to drink?”

He shook his head, keeping a hold of her hand. “No, I’d best get this out first.”

There was something in his face, something that made her heart clutch. She led him to the couch and sat beside him.

Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath. “Your mama gave her blessing for us to see each other,” he began, looking down at their hands. “If that’s what you still want. But then I realized on my way over that I need to tell you…Jesus, this is going to be hard. Sorry, I shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain in front of you.”

She scooted closer and clutched his hand. “It’s okay. Whatever you need to tell me…you tell it whichever way works best for you.”

He let out a jagged breath. “I…ah…just need to say it.”

Her heart felt like someone had stepped on it. “I can’t imagine that happening, but why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“All right…it’s about my best friend in the Army.” His thumb stroked the inside of her palm. “His name was Booker. I’ve never been able to stop dreaming about what happened…”

She watched his face, wishing he’d meet her eyes, but since he couldn’t seem to, she simply listened.

“I dreamed about it…him…the night before you came to my house to decorate.”

Her lungs seemed to stop working. She remembered how exhausted and beaten down he’d looked that day. Now she was finally about to learn why.

“I’m not proud of what I’m about to tell you, but it needs telling. We were on patrol in an alley…” he began.

As she listened to him describe what happened, she bit her lip—hard enough to taste blood. She couldn’t imagine being in that kind of danger, let alone the horror of having your best friend shot right beside you. Her throat thickened, and she fought the urge to cry. When he talked about all the blood pouring out of his friend’s wounds and how he’d applied pressure to keep him from bleeding out while asking God to save him, his voice broke.