Page 23 of A Veteran's Desire

“If I hadn’t missed the cues, his widow would have someone to love and his son would have a father.”

Grant slides his hands from mine and sinks his head into his hands, overcome by grief or guilt.

“So you see, Hannah, it’s not fair. It’s not right that I should be in love and happy when that family was torn apart.”

I sit still. He said the love word, and that should make me happy, but as I watch Grant, racked with guilt, it only makes me sad.

“You can’t put your life on hold because of what happened. Mason knew the risks when he signed up, and so did his widow.”

Grant shakes his head. “Every time I get close to happiness, like when you were in my arms the other night, I think of Mason and how much I don’t deserve it.”

Now I know why he pulled back in the kitchen. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with him. But the knowledge doesn’t make me feel any better. Grant’s hurting, and I wish there was something I could do to make it better.

I do what Granny used to do to me when I was sad. I rub his back in slow soothing circles and let him talk.

“I failed to protect him. I was the senior operative on the mission, and I failed to keep my men safe. I got to come home and Mason didn’t. Camila didn’t get her husband back, and every good thing I let myself have since then feels like I’m spending something that isn’t mine.”

He stands up suddenly, shaking my hand off his back. I want to comfort him, but it’s another rejection. He doesn’t think he even deserves this kindness.

“Do you think that’s how he wants to be honored? By you being miserable? I bet this isn’t what Mason would want or his widow either.”

I stand up, but Grant won’t look at me. He’s staring at the end of the orchard, his heart still with the man who died in a faraway land. My hand reaches out to touch him, but before I do he speaks.

“Once this land grab is over, and I’m sure you’re safe, I’ll leave Hope.”

“What?” My stomach drops, and my hand drops to my side.

“It’s better if I go and give you a chance at happiness.”

It’s as if I’ve been punched in the stomach. Grant doesn’t even want to work this out. He’d rather wallow in his guilt.

“You’re not choosing between honoring him and having happiness.” My voice is quiet and steadier than I feel. “You’ve just decided punishing yourself is the only tribute that counts. Because punishing yourself is easier than forgiving yourself.”

I stand for a moment staring at Grant’s back, the strong broad shoulders that carry a heavy weight, one he’s not willing to shrug off. He’d rather live in guilt than try for a chance at happiness for me.

He doesn’t turn around.

I swipe the tears from my eyes as I leave him alone in the orchard. I knew better than to get close to someone. I’m losing Grant the way I always lose those that I love. Because yeah, I love the big silent brute. And him opening up to me just makes those feelings stronger.

Sadness weighs me down as I push open the door to the farmhouse. This has played out exactly how I feared it would. I finally let myself be chosen, opened myself to love, and he’s leaving, like everyone does.

The kitchen is silent and smells like pastry, but baking isn’t going to make me feel any better. I take the stairs two at a time, just reaching my bedroom before the tears flow.

12

GRANT

Hannah’s footsteps get further away, and the sound of them retreating opens up a new ache in my heart. I spin around and open my mouth to call her back, but an image of Mason flashes into my mind, and the words stick in my throat.

Is she right when she says punishing myself is easier than forgiving myself? I have no idea how to even start to forgive myself for this. I’ve no doubt Mason wouldn’t want me to deny myself happiness, but it’s Camila, his widow, I think of. Her grief and her sorrow and their son growing up without a father. I’ve been too ashamed to speak with her, and I wonder what she’d say. If she’d blame me too, or if she’d forgive me.

The door slams shut in the distance and I sit in quiet among the trees, wondering whether Hannah is right.

My phone shrills an alert from the security app, cutting through my thoughts. The cameras have picked up movement on the property from a person who isn’t registered with the facial recognition.

Someone’s on the property.

I’m on my feet and moving in the shadows of the trees toward the house. The app on my phone brings up the cameras fromaround the property. A shadowy figure moves toward the house from the other side. The house that Hannah just entered, the house where her nephews are sleeping.