Page 54 of SEAL of Valor

“They’re not really helpful when you can’t stand to see what it is you’re looking at.”

Out of everything we said, those words have haunted me the most. Even last night, I dreamt of a house of mirrors, each one of them shattered from the center, the shards reflecting memories of the night everything fell apart.

I blink rapidly, trying to clear away the tears that keep threatening to fall.

He hated himself.

Blamed himself.

All this time. And why wouldn’t he? It’s not like I gave him much of a reason not to. I thought he’d understand that it wasn’t all his fault, that I carried some of that blame, too, but I should have known better.

Weston has always tried to shoulder everyone else’s pain.

He did it for his mom, placing himself between her and his dad and taking fists that should’ve never been dealt out.

He did it for his sister when he’d shield her from their dad’s wrath just the same.

Then he did it again when his dad left. Weston took point during every bad thing that happened to their family, and he was only a child himself.

As my mind runs over all of the reasons why I should have stayed and been that strength for him, he comes out of the barn. Inked arms coated in a thin layer of sweat, he’s guiding a wheelbarrow out of the barn. In his cowboy hat, dirty jeans, worn boots, and a stained white t-shirt, he looks every bit like the cowboy he was born to be.

And man, does he make my mouth water, even after all this time.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I get up from the seat and head down the porch steps while he disappears around the corner of the barn. My hip aches, but the pain is more than manageable, thanks to the two Advil I took this morning.

Aragorn follows, clearly excited about the adventure. Tail wagging, ears forward, tongue hanging out, he trots beside me.

But as I reach the entrance to the barn, I stop.

Is this a mistake?

What if he gets angry?

I start to turn around, but Weston comes back around the corner with a now-empty wheelbarrow. He stops in his tracks and stares at me. “Everything okay? Your hip⁠—”

“Is fine,” I say quickly. “Everything is fine.” You’re in it now, Reese. “I was going to make myself a turkey sandwich and wanted to know if you were hungry. I saw you come out of the barn while I was sitting on the porch.” I gesture toward the house like an idiot.

“I have quite a bit of work to do. I’m not sure I can spare time for lunch. But thanks.”

“You have to eat, Weston. Come on, I won’t even talk.”

Now he snorts. “You’re a lot of things, Reese, and quiet is not one of them.”

I grin because he’s absolutely right. Silence makes me uncomfortable. Always has. “Then I promise not to talk about anything prior to one week ago. Deal?”

He hesitates. “Okay. Lunch would be nice.”

“Great. I’ll go make sandwiches.”

“I’ll be five minutes.”

“Perfect.” With relief thrumming through my veins, I turn and start toward the house. “Come on, Aragorn!” I call out. He rushes toward the house, tail wagging wildly. Even though I know this is far from fixing what was originally a friendship between us, it is a step in the right direction. At the very least, things won’t be awkward whenever I come visit. Because being here now is a stark reminder that I’ve been away for far too long.

I even briefly entertained the idea of staying. Would it really be so bad? To live here and work in town?

After washing my hands, I pull down two plates and place two pieces of sourdough on each. I pull the ingredients out of the fridge and slice tomatoes, then pile sliced turkey, cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayonnaise on top before sprinkling some salt and pepper.

I’m just adding some barbecue chips to the side when the front door opens and Weston comes inside. He removes his hat and hangs it by the door, then rubs his palms on his jeans.