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“You can’t do that to yourself.”
“After that, I guess I questioned everything. God. Life. If there’s even a purpose, if there’s even a plan. It just didn’t make sense. I took out a lot of pain on everyone around me. I took it out on my family …” He cleared his throat and brushed his own tears away. “Man, I didn’t expect to be giving myself therapy.” He tried to say it in a joking tone, but it just came out as pathetic.
Cheryse took his hand back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. This is exactly what would make you a good pastor—all your life experience.”
“I don’t know about that.”
For a long moment, they simply stared into each other’s eyes, and he was surprised that he felt infinitely better now that they’d had this conversation.
“You are my best friend,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand again. “I guess it puts everything in perspective when you’re talking about this past year and I’m talking about everything with my ex. I guess we’re all vulnerable and afraid, just trying to be brave.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and she shook her head. “Not that I’m comparing myself to you. The things you did, that Trent did, and that your family has done are way scarier than anything I’ve done.”
“Hey, we all walk through our own Gethsemane.”
“Again, that’s what a pastor would say.”
He laughed, then sobered. “But it’s true. And just because you’ve gone through different things than me, that doesn’t mean you haven’t suffered. And it doesn’t mean that Christ didn’t suffer for both of us.” As he said the words, warmth bloomed in his chest and spread through him like a bucket of water, rinsing him from the inside out. He hadn’t felt that in a long time.
“Maybe becoming a pastor is a good idea,” Cheryse said in a half-teasing, half-serious tone. “After all, your nickname was Preacher for a time.”
“Whatever.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “I was, like, twelve.”
She pointed at him. “Still. I remember you would follow Trent around and tell him all the ways he was sinning.”
He shook his head at the memory. “And there were a lot.” He’d enjoyed thinking about concepts of God and trying to help others see God’s truth. “But this is now. Everyone would say, ‘Oh, there’s the one-eyed pastor.’”
“Maybe it would get people to church. They would just want to see the pirate pastor. Especially since he found the conquistador’s gold.” Her face broke into a grin.
He chuckled.
“Okay,” she said, looking around. “Where’s this gold?”
Hunter pulled out Trent’s old notebook and showed her the map he’d decoded from Trent’s writings. “I think there’s something here. I mean, he was clearly going to make us dig here.”
“Then get digging.”
Chapter 24
After three hours of digging to no avail, Hunter was exhausted. The only thing that kept him invested in the digging was Cheryse’s willingness to tell him about pretty much anything he asked about. It was like she was happy to talk about things if he was only half listening.
“Yeah, so managing all the inventory has been the trickiest part of owning the spa, because during high traffic times, we have a lot of people who walk in and want things done.”
Hunter was impressed at the way Cheryse managed the spa. “You’ve taken a small-town venture and turned it into a profitable business.” He wiped sweat from his brow and focused on her. “That’s impressive, Reese.”
She scoffed. “Well, some people don’t think it’s impressive. Some people think it is worldly and that I’m wasting my life trying to make people beautiful.”
“Who would say that to you?” Hunter’s senses ratcheted up. “Who would ever say that all of your dang hard work wasn’t worth anything?”
Cheryse rolled her eyes and then shifted and turned away from him. “It doesn’t matter. It honestly doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” Hunter dropped the shovel and moved to the rock she was sitting on. Roughly, he picked up his backpack and tried to meet her eyes, but she was avoiding him. He opened the pack and pulled out his water canister.
Hunter guessed Roger was to blame, based on the little snippets he knew about the guy. It was bad enough that Roger reeked of snobbery. Now he was criticizing Cheryse for her hard work? It killed Hunter. Cheryse had grown up working hard. Her mother had started the salon, and she’d worked her fingers to the bone, and Cheryse had worked alongside her.
Cheryse glanced at him and held out her hand. He gave her the canister, and she took a sip. It was ridiculous that he was so happy about such a simple gesture. He loved being able to talk with her, loved that they could be casual to the point that she would drink out of his canister.
His heart thumped, and he tried not to think of how different it all was now. As a woman, she was attractive as heck, and there was no denying he wanted to kiss her every second. Even when he was ticked at her, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her in and run his fingers through her soft hair. He had to push those thoughts aside quickly and refocus.
