Listening to Cindy’s story, Gavin broke out in a cold sweat as the memories from his own darkest day came back to him like a horror movie he could never escape.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen to us,” Cindy continued. “Lance’s unit was one of the last to deploy to Iraq before the final troops left. They were on a humanitarian mission, bringing badly needed aid to the Iraqi people, who’d endured a decade of war. He was hit and killed by a stray bullet fired in one of the villages where they were working. The bullet had nothing to do with the war, apparently. Sometimes, when I allow myself to think about that—how his death had nothing at all to do with the war . . . Well, it’s better if I don’t think about that.”
Gavin couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay in this hot, suffocating room and listen to Cindy’s tragedy unfold before him. Releasing Ella’s hand, he slipped out of the room, hoping no one would notice him leaving. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to pass out from overheating either.
He cut through the kitchen and went out into the backyard, where he could finally breathe again in the cold November air. Bending at the waist, he propped his hands on his knees and focused on drawing deep breaths of cold air into his lungs.
Not surprisingly, Ella came out right behind him. “Gav? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. It was so hot in there I felt like I was going to pass out.”
She laid her hand flat against his back. “Is that all it was?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Gavin.”
Here was the one person he couldn’t bullshit with his assurances that he was fine when he wasn’t. She saw right through him. The mirror he couldn’t escape.
“Rabbit hole alert.”
“Ah, I see. Come here.”
Resigned to accepting her comfort, he stood to his full height and turned to her.
She put her arms around him and held on tight, letting him know with one simple gesture that he wasn’t alone.
“Sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize.”
“My parents and Hannah have probably heard a lot of those stories since the inn opened, but I haven’t. Brought it all back. That day . . .”
Ella ran her hand over his back in small, soothing circles. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
He never wanted to think about it again, let alone say the words out loud.
“Maybe if you tell me, then I’ll know and you won’t be alone with it anymore. It’ll be our burden to share, and I can help you avoid the triggers.”
“I don’t want you to share my burden, Ella. That’s not what we’re doing here.”
“It’s not? So you’re only signing on for the good stuff? No hard stuff, no bad stuff, no ugly?”
“I don’t want you mired in my ugly.”
“Even if I want to be?”
He looked down at her beautiful face. Even in the dark he could see her affection for him shining through. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Crazy about you, Gavin Guthrie.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual.” He kissed her softly. “I’ll tell you about it, but not here. Let’s go home.”
“Whatever you want to do.”
They went back inside, where the party was carrying on with happy voices and conversation. He hoped his parents hadn’t noticed him backing out of the room while Cindy was talking.
“Oh, there you two are,” Bob said when they entered the kitchen.
“We were just getting some air,” Ella said, “but we’re going to head out now. We’ve both got early days tomorrow.”
“We’re glad you could come,” Bob said. He hugged Ella and shook hands with Gavin, his shrewd gaze giving him a close once-over. Despite Ella’s efforts to cover for him, he knew his dad was clued in to his distress. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yes?”
Though asked as a question, Gavin knew it wasn’t a request. “Yeah.”