Whispered Prayers of a Girl

“Why would you do that for her?” Her eyes are soft but curious as she asks the question.

“To be honest, I don’t know.” And I really don’t. I have no clue why these people have touched me so much in such a short time. But there’s no denying it.

She nods, looks down for a moment, then lifts her head.

“What time did she wake you?”

“It wasn’t too late.”

“I’m sorry. You should have woken me.”

“She was fine.”

I don’t say anything about Kelsey whispering to me. There’s obviously a reason she spoke to me last night. Maybe she’s finally decided to start opening up, and I

was the first person she was able to do it with. Maybe she senses my own heartache and feels like she can relate. Maybe she’ll wake up today and start talking. Or maybe she was half asleep and vulnerable at the time and it slipped out before she realized it. No matter the reason, telling her mother doesn’t seem right.

And a tiny part of me, the evil, selfish part, wants to keep it to myself for a little while. It makes me feel so damn special that she picked me to hear her voice after so long.

We both stand there, neither breaking eye contact. My hand itches to reach out and graze my fingers along her cheek. I know it would be soft. I haven’t wanted to touch a woman since Clara died, and I never thought I would again. Or rather, I never thought I would want to. These feelings confuse me, because I want to feel them, but they terrify me. What could I possibly offer Gwen and her kids? A small cabin on the outskirts of town? A man that’s both physically and emotionally scarred? Certainly not protection, because it’s painfully obvious how well I do that. I remember that fact every single fucking day of my life. What this family could give me far exceeds anything I could ever give them, and that’s not fair.

With that thought in mind, I take a step back, pushing away the need to be near her that I couldn’t force back moments ago. It hurts so damn much when I see the disappointment in her eyes. I have no idea what’s going on between us, but whatever it is, she feels it too. If I were a better man, a whole man without a black hole in my heart, I would snatch up the opportunity to have a woman like Gwen, and her kids. But I’m not. Instead, I put even more distance between us, and continue to hate the look she gives me.

“I’m going to go check on and feed the horses,” I tell her, my voice gruff.

Her hands play with the bottom of her shirt and she nods. “Okay.”

I force my feet to take me away from her before I do something I’ll regret later. My boots and jacket are on, and I’m reaching for the door when she calls my name. I only turn my head to look at her over my shoulder, afraid if I turn my whole body, I won’t be able to stop myself from going to her.

She’s closer to me from where I left her in the living room, like she was following me to the door, but then stopped herself. It makes me wonder if she’s having as hard a time as I am with staying away.

“The kids should be up soon. Would you like breakfast?”

Her face holds a hopeful expression, and I don’t have it in me to tell her no. She’s leaving today, and as hard as it’s going to be, I do want to spend time with her, Kelsey, and Daniel before they go. I just need to get my shit under control first. Spending time with my horses and giving myself a pep talk should do it.

Or rather, I hope like hell it does.

“Yeah,” I answer.

The smile she gives me damn near knocks me on my ass.

Before my legs get a mind of their own and carry me over to her, I shove open the door and step out into the surprisingly warmer weather. I hate the heat. That’s part of the reason I love Colorado so much; it never gets too hot here. It’s nowhere near hot right now, but it’s definitely warmer than what I want it to be. It’s because of the warm weather that Gwen and her kids are leaving today.

The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, and the white snow on the ground makes everything blinding. Drops of water are already dripping from the roof, and although there’s still a lot of snow on the ground, several inches have already melted away. As the day goes on, even more will melt. It’s amazing, the difference from yesterday to today.

I step off the porch and head to the barn, anxious to get the horses fed and back to the house.

Hours later, I’m standing at the window with my chest feeling hollow as I watch Jeremy’s forest green Blazer make its way up my driveway and park next to my truck. I grip the window seal when he gets out and looks around before walking to my porch. Seconds later, his knock sounds. I want to ignore it, or tell him to go the fuck away, that he can’t take away something I want to badly.

My eyes skitter away from the door and land on Gwen, who’s standing at the end of the bar with a questioning look. She heard the knock as well, and I’m sure she’s confused as to why I haven’t answered it yet. I’m in denial and just want to ignore it, but I know I can’t. They don’t belong here with me.

She takes a step toward the door to answer it, so I force my legs to move. I get there before she does, and I step in front of her to pull it open. Jeremy’s standing on the other side, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. I’ve known him for years, and he’s a nice enough man, but at the moment, I hate him. My initial reaction is to scowl at him and slam the door in his face. When he looks at me strangely with a hint of fear, I force the expression away. It’s not Jeremy’s fault I can’t get my shit together.

He pulls one hand from his pocket and thrusts it out to me. “It’s good to see you, Alexander.”

I don’t take his hand at first, just look down at it. It’s not often I’m offered a hand to shake anymore. I know that’s mainly my fault for not inserting myself in situations where I need to shake hands, but I also know it’s because people are leery of me.

I grasp his hand in a firm shake. It’s not lost on me that he held out his left hand so I have to shake with my left, the unscarred one. However, Jeremy’s left-handed, so it could simply be that and not that he didn’t want to touch the mangled skin of my right hand.