Page 48 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
I stared at Beau, dumbfounded, tears pooling again.
“Don’t ever talk about yourself like that again. Ever.” He reached up and pulled the lock of hair I had been twirling from my fingers. “You did something no one else had been able to do. Putting a stop to those gun shipments saved lives. You sacrificed yourself for the good of others even though you took a major hit. Literally. Don’t forget the destination as you analyze the journey.”
“But Beau, that wasn’t the only reason. I wanted to get ahead. I wanted to make a name for myself.”
“I don’t believe that was your only reason.” His hands framed my face. “People do things for a lot of complicated reasons. Think about it: if you were just in it for the glory and the fame, you wouldn’t have become an investigative reporter. If you really wanted to use your looks to get ahead, you’d be in Hollywood, interviewing celebrities or some shit like that. You wouldn’t be taking stories that could get you killed.”
“But—”
“No.” His hands left my face and settled on my shoulders. “No. Did you take the story to get guns off the streets?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then that’s it.” He cut me off again. “Leave it there. You did what you had to do to get evidence. Do you think there aren’t cops that go undercover and have to do the things you did?”
“I’m sure there are.”
“Damn straight, there are. Would you call them whores?”
“No! Of course not.”
His eyes gentled as his point was made. “Then there you go.”
There you go.
My shoulders relaxed, the sting in my nose starting to fade. “Okay,” I whispered.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone other than myself to tell me that I’d made the right choice. That it hadn’t just been about the fame, but the guns too. That in the end, the good outweighed the bad. Much like my writing, Beau’s words had been healing.
Good people don’t just see the good in others, they see it in themselves too.
My dad’s voice popped into my head. He used to say that to me whenever I was down on myself. He wasn’t here to help me through this but I was sure he’d approve of Beau taking his place.
“You’re a good person, Beau Holt.”
“So are you, Sabrina MacKenzie.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let’s go home.” With Beau leading me down the path, we made the careful descent back to the truck.
On the drive back to the outpost, I realized that Beau had captured another piece of my heart today. Little by little, he was taking them all.
I just hoped that when I left, he’d give them all back.
“Looks like we’re going to get a sky show after all,” Beau said, staring out the kitchen window.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a thunderstorm rolling in.”
I squeezed in next to Beau to look outside. Between the trees, the sky was darkening to an ominous gray, and the wind was whipping the tops of the evergreens.
“Cool! I love thunderstorms. Seattle rarely gets them but back home in Florida they happened all the time. Lightning fascinates me.”
“You probably won’t see much from inside.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s still cool.”
He sighed. “I hope it doesn’t hit town until after the fireworks show.”
I smiled, knowing he didn’t want his little brother’s big night to be ruined by the weather. “Me neither.”
