Page 92 of Nothing to Fear

“She was a nurse. The sweetest lady. Pretty good cook too. Somehow Ben got me to finally answer his questions with a nod or shake of the head. He walked me home and had a chat with Clint. First time I saw a man kick the ass of another without throwing a punch. Ben deflected, turning everything Clint dished out back on him. It was like watching a superhero.”

“What did your mom do?”

“Nothing. I think she was in shock. Clint was so embarrassed, he got on his bike and took off for days.”

“Must’ve been a relief.”

“Should’ve been, but my mom blamed me for driving him off. Told me I was a little shit, like my dad. A spitting image of him, and every day it was harder to stomach the sight of me.”

You’re not enough, Gideon. I need more than just being your mother. I need a kind of love you can’t give me. Don’t ruin this one for me, you little shit! Know how hard it is for a woman with a kid?

Recalling his mother’s cruel words set his heart drumming. He hadn’t expected such acute pain in his chest. Willow caressed his torso and he remembered to breathe.

“Clint eventually came back. When I went to Ben and Hannah the next time with a busted jaw, the cops hit the house a few days later while my mom was at work. Found a bunch of drugs in one of Clint’s bags. My mother swore it wasn’t his, but he was sent to prison. Afterward, my mom wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Losing one parent is hard. I can’t imagine two turning their back on their own child.”

Willow had the biggest heart. Even though she was suffering, not knowing if her father might live or die, she made room for his pain. He was grateful for her tenderness.

“Once my jaw healed, Ben taught me how to defend myself. I had this wild, crazy energy and couldn’t focus. So he used a metronome. Had me concentrate on the beat instead of the movements at first.”

She gazed up at him. “I can see the practicality of a metronome. I overheard you sparring in the gym once with Castle and he couldn’t understand how you beat him. You’d said fighting was all about rhythm and tempo, moving at the proper beat.” Petal-smooth lips brushed his jaw. “For the record, so is dancing.”

Grinning, he held her tighter. “Why am I not surprised you were eavesdropping?” But he was surprised she’d been close enough to overhear a conversation and he hadn’t noticed her. His senses always trained on her if she was in the room.

Willow covered her face with her hands. “More like spellbound by you than eavesdropping. I couldn’t help it.”

He pried her fingers away and looked into her eyes. “I never want you to feel embarrassed around me about anything. Okay?”

A smile lifted her mouth, and it was like the sun rose in his heart. He was the one awestruck.

“Well, if a metronome can increase a musician’s awareness and focus, I imagine it works in regard to fighting,” she said.

“Centered me like nothing else.”

Focus will carry you all the way, Gideon. All the way. Ben’s words were ingrained. His tutelage enabled Gideon to survive, taught him to cauterize pain and overcome anything.

“Ben and Hannah used to take camping trips and would bring me along.”

“Your mom didn’t mind?”

He kissed her forehead, wondering what kind of mother she’d make. Loving, patient, fiercely protective most likely. “I think my mom was secretly thrilled to have the house to herself and her latest boyfriend.”

“Did you learn to fish and hunt?”

“Ben showed me a bold new world. At nine, I thought it was normal to use a SIG Sauer SSG 3000 tactical sniper rifle to kill a deer. Normal to use a 9mm with a silencer.”

Willow stiffened in his arms, but he continued spilling the details he’d held secret for more than twenty years. “To break down a weapon, clean it, and put it back together blindfolded. Normal to learn how to defend myself with a fixed blade or fishing pole, take someone down with tackle line, or maneuver out of any hold. Skinning a deer always shifted into how to stop an attacker with a knife and practicing how to use a blade.”

Sounded odd hearing it out loud, but his time with them had been the best days of his youth. The bowie knife he kept in his go bag had been a gift from Ben, and he cherished it.

Willow reeled in his arms, nose wrinkling, eyes narrowed. “What did Ben do?”

“He said he worked in insurance, traveled a lot for business.” Gideon had simply soaked everything in and hadn’t asked questions that might have messed up the one safe space he’d found. “Ben did a stint in the army when he was younger, where he picked up the Arabic, Farsi, and German, all of which he taught me. He was big into politics and foreign affairs. Talked about the importance of national security, the greater good, protecting one’s family and home by eliminating any threats. No matter what was required.”

“Did Hannah think that was normal?”

He shrugged. “Ben sprinkled his rhetoric like seeds when I’d tag along to run errands, helped with house repairs. Until one day, my belief system grew into an ideological garden of his making.” He caressed Willow’s head, running his fingers through her hair. “Hannah never went hunting. She hung out at the campsite and was never around for any training, except when we played CHAOS.”