Mountain Man

  I frowned at him and breathed out for three counts but didn’t say anything because I had no argument for him. He was right—I couldn’t have forced him into anything.

  “Anyway,” he continued. “I was a jackass.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and neither did I. Instead, we both just stood there looking at each other awkwardly. He ran a hand through his hair and then dropped his attention to the carpet beneath our feet. He was clearly anxious, and a part of me ached to ease his fears, but the larger part of me forced myself to stay put and say nothing.

  “I didn’t treat you the right way and I’ve been kicking myself ever since,” he continued.

  “Everything you said is true,” I agreed as I sat in the chair across from him. I could see his disappointment over the fact that I chose to sit so far away, but if I was going to keep a clear head then I needed the distance. He responded by sitting down on the couch again and dropping his enormous hands to his thighs.

  “It took you a while to come here,” I pointed out. “All of this happened, what? A couple days ago?”

  He nodded. “It wasn’t because I wasn’t thinking about it,” he grumbled. “It’s been on my mind ever since I left. But I had to take care of some things before I could come here,” William said. “And, if I’m being completely honest, I had to talk myself into coming here.”

  “I figured.”

  “This sort of thing isn’t easy for me,” he continued. “So I spent the last couple of days trying to figure out what to say to you and how to say it.”

  “And that was what you came up with?” I asked him with a lilt to my voice.

  “Yes,” he answered with a shrug.

  “With days of practice?”

  “With days of practice,” he insisted with a nod. “I told you I wasn’t good at this.”

  “Yeah, you weren’t lying.” By this time, I couldn’t hide the smile that took hold of my lips.

  “Well, there’s actually more,” he said as my eyebrows went for the ceiling.

  “Okay,” I started.

  He nodded and looked over at me again. “You told me that you, uh, that you love me. I don’t know if that’s true or if it was said in the heat of the moment,” he started and refused to meet my eyes. Clearly he was incredibly uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure why but that thought made me want to put my arms around him. But I couldn’t.

  “It’s true,” I interrupted, figuring there was no point in hiding it now. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t feel it.” I’d probably kick myself for admitting as much to him, but I felt the moment demanded honesty and so I was exactly that.

  He nodded, almost solemnly. “I am a simple man,” he started, exhaling. “I live a simple life, and I’m not the type of man who dwells on his emotions. Most of the time, I probably don’t even have any,” he continued with a shrug. “And while I don’t know if what I feel for you is love, I can tell you that I feel something incredibly strong for you, something stronger than I’ve felt for anyone else in a very long time.”

  My heart began to pound against my chest.

  “Can you tell me more about what that something feels like?” I asked, thinking that maybe specific questions might help him better understand himself and, in so doing, help me to better understand him.

  He nodded but was silent for a few seconds. “I care about you so much that I don’t like the idea of you being on your own, without me. Because I worry about you.” He shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, I know you are, but I want to be there to help you, to do things for you. And when I’m not with you, I worry.”

  “About what?”

  He shrugged again. “Little things—like whether or not you have enough money, if you’re hungry or if you’re feeling lonely or sad. I think about you walking to and from the bank by yourself, and I don’t like it.” He frowned. “I guess you could say I just worry about you in general.”

  I was secretly thrilling over his words because they showed how much he cared about me. I could feel the walls I’d erected around my heart begin to melt one by one. Regardless of whatever William thought, I was convinced he was in love with me. Given everything he’d just explained to me, it was the only thing that made sense. And now it was my job to prove to him that such was the case. “That actually sounds incredibly sweet. It sounds like you want to look out for me.”

  “I do,” he said immediately, nodding. “I…I think about you more times in a day than I’m comfortable saying,” he continued as he faced the floor again. “And it’s been that way since the day I first saw you at the bank.”

  “I’ve always felt the same way about you, too,” I said and gave him a smile. “I always looked forward to your visits, and I would count the days in between.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything. He seemed lost in the flotsam of his thoughts, and I figured he might need to continue sorting through the debris of his emotions for a while longer before he truly began to understand himself. The best thing I could offer him was my patience.

  “And now, after what we did, the idea of another man caring for you or being inside of you,” he started before his jaw tightened and his hands fisted at his sides. He clenched his eyes shut tightly before opening them again and looking at the ground. “It fills me with an almost uncontrollable anger.”

  “Jealousy?”

  “Maybe it’s jealousy, but it feels deeper and stronger than that. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it.” He took a deep breath and released his hands, shaking them out. “When I see you,” he started again as he finally brought his eyes to mine, and this time I met his gaze head on. “I’m filled with lightness, maybe it’s happiness, I’m not sure. But you’re the only one who can make me feel like this, and it’s something completely different to the way I usually feel.”

  “I’m no expert,” I started with a shrug. “But that sounds like love to me.”

  “I’m not finished yet, Angel,” he informed me and held his hand up as if to further emphasize the point. I couldn’t help my smile because he seemed so intent on getting all of this out. He obviously wasn’t a man who dealt with emotions or feelings well, so it was a surprise to me that he was on such a mission now. “My natural inclination where you’re concerned is to take care of you. I want to protect you from anything that could be a danger to you. But I also want to protect your innocence from the ugliness of the world.”

  “And I want that from you, William, more than you can ever know,” I started as I moved toward him, but he held me off with an outstretched arm.

  “I know you do,” he said as he inhaled deeply and shook his head. “But you don’t know everything about me, and it’s not fair for you to think you love me when you don’t know the truth.”

  “Nothing you say is going to change my mind,” I started but he interrupted me.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not going to allow you to make a decision about me and us until I tell you everything I need to, and then I’m willing to let the cards fall where they may. If I lose you, I lose you. It’s a chance I have to take because it’s the right thing to do.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Delilah

  I was a bit perplexed, wondering what it was that William needed to tell me that could possibly be so bad. I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Please,” he started as he brought his pained eyes to mine, and I could see how difficult this was for him. The expression on his face made my insides melt, and all I wanted to do was reach out and tell him that it was okay, that whatever his past held mattered nothing to me. And that was the truth. Because I could see the man he was now, and that was the man I’d fallen in love with.

  “I’m here for you, William,” I said softly.

  “Please don’t interrupt me when I start to explain everything to you,” he said. “This isn’t easy for me, and I need to get it all out without any interruptions.” I just nodded as he continued. “You probably have heard the stories and rumors about
me and maybe some of them are true. But I want you to know the whole truth, and I also want you to know that you’re the only person I’ve ever opened up to about this.”

  Then he grew quiet for a few seconds as he gazed at the floor, as if trying to summon his strength, or maybe he was organizing his thoughts.

  When he glanced up at me, his expression was one of determination. “I came from Las Vegas,” he started. “And I came from an affluent family. My father was a developer, and I never wanted for anything growing up. Even so, I didn’t want to rely on my inheritance for the rest of my life. I wanted to make something of myself, to become someone who mattered. So, I became a cop.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I loved what I did, and I was good at it. I guess I had a good enough life at the time—I met a woman who I thought I loved, and I married her.”

  I couldn’t help the shock that suddenly filled me with fiery pinpricks. William had been married? The thought was one that wholly repelled me and threw me into a jealous tailspin until I caught myself and reminded myself that this was his past. He wasn’t married anymore.

  “Our life was good together for a few years,” he continued. “Until she started using cocaine.” He took a deep breath as his expression blanched, and I could see that these memories weren’t easy for him to relive. “Pretty soon she was coked out of her head, day and night. I tried to get her help, but it was useless. She wasn’t happy with herself, so there was no way I could make her happy. Pretty soon cocaine wasn’t enough for her, and she turned to harder drugs. She started hanging out with the wrong crowd, and then there was the night I walked in on her with another man.”

  I gasped as shock rampaged through me. I could see the anger still present in William’s eyes and the way his lips tightened into a straight, white line. Even though so many years had passed, it was obvious he still wasn’t over the betrayal.

  It was clear as day in his eyes. And I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t even imagine going through what he had.

  “Needless to say, I left her. I couldn’t come back after that,” he continued as he sighed. “And from that point, my own life took a downward spiral. Looking back on it now, I know I was depressed.” He shrugged. “I mean, how could I not have been after what had happened to my wife and to my marriage?” I agreed with him but didn’t say anything. I just let him continue. “After she moved out, I went through our house and threw away the things she’d left behind. I didn’t want anything that reminded me of her. And that was when I came across a bag of cocaine that she’d shoved to the back of one of the dresser drawers.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what prompted me to do it, but I did all of it, line after line. And that was the beginning of the end.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds as he focused on his hands in front of him, fiddling his fingers. “I got addicted to it, and while at first it was easy enough to hide from my partner and my job, it caught up to me after a while.”

  I wanted to tell him that I understood and that it was okay, that I knew every person had his or her own past, but I remained quiet. Mostly because that’s what he’d asked me to do.

  “It was March thirteenth,” he continued as his eyes focused on something in the distance behind me, and he gazed at it almost like it was a portal back in time, like the memories were unfolding right in front of him. “I’d been up for maybe three days straight, and I was still coked out of my mind, but I was also on duty.” He continued to stare at nothing, and his voice sounded haunted. “My partner and I were called to a house for a domestic abuse call. When we got there, no one was there. The house was dark and empty, vacant. We decided to walk through it anyway, to make sure no one was in need of help. My partner went one way and I went the other. It was when I was in the hallway, that I heard the shots.”

  He was quiet again as he stared at nothing, remembering a situation that obviously still haunted him.

  “It had been a set-up, of course, a way to lure us into the house and take us out.” He paused again. “Once I heard the shots, I ran back down the hallway and into the living room, and I saw my partner on the ground. He’d been hit, but he was still alive. He was trying to go for his firearm, but it was out of his reach.” He grew quiet as he swallowed hard.

  He continued staring at nothing, and his expression was completely unreadable. I could tell this story was incredibly painful to him.

  “I remember him yelling at me to fire, but there was something inside me that froze; it was like my body stopped working even though my brain was yelling at it to take action. I could see the thug with the gun lifting his firearm and then aiming it at my partner. Even though my brain was yelling at me to do something, I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there.”

  He took a deep breath. “That was when I felt something coming out of my nose.”

  “Something coming out of your nose?”

  “Blood. It started pouring out faster, down my face and my neck onto my uniform. I glanced down for a split second and that was when I heard the shot. When I looked up again, my partner was dead.” He took another deep breath as he shook his head. “And that’s all I remember.”

  He continued to stare off into space, and I wasn’t sure if that meant this was the conclusion to the story because he didn’t say anything else.

  “What happened?” I asked, trying to bring him back from whatever dark and ugly place he was in.

  He looked over at me then, as if he’d forgotten I was still there, and shrugged. “I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital and that was when I found out I’d had a stroke,” he continued as surprise flowed through me. I didn’t know anything about cocaine or drugs in general because I’d never tried any and had no intentions to. “And that was when I also found out my partner was dead, and I was considered a suspect in the case.”

  He inhaled deeply. “To make a long story short, I beat my addiction and eventually I was found innocent of my partner’s death.” He shook his head. “But I never forgave myself, and I never will. I failed him, and I failed his family. It was my fault he died, my fault I couldn’t go for my fucking gun, and my fault that he’s no longer here.”

  He glanced over at me. “And that is why I moved to Peak Mountain because I had to get away from Las Vegas, from the memories, from the guilt.” He laughed, but the sound was anything but joyous.

  Instead, it sounded acidic, angry. “The truth is that I couldn’t escape. The memories won’t go away, I think about them every day, every night. I live with the truth of what happened, and I hate myself for it.”

  He grew quiet and I realized his story was finished. “Was the reason you couldn’t go for your gun because you were having the stroke?” I asked, trying to piece together the facts so I could better understand.

  He shrugged. “That’s what they think happened, after I was found innocent, anyway. At first, they believed I was the one who shot my partner, based on the testimony of a neighbor who hadn’t even been inside the house to see what happened. Plus, the guy who shot my partner got away which made it sound like I just made him up. No one could understand why I wouldn’t have just shot him, especially since I had my weapon drawn.”

  “You didn’t shoot him because you were having a stroke,” I said, shaking my head because I couldn’t understand why no one seemed to get that part, William included.

  He nodded. “At least that’s what the doc said, but then I don’t remember feeling like I was having a stroke. I just remember the blood coming out of my nose and then the shot that killed my partner and then everything went black.”

  “William, you were exonerated, but even if you weren’t, you know in your heart that you didn’t shoot your partner, and that you shouldn’t blame yourself,” I began. “There was no way you could’ve foreseen what would happen.”

  “No, I couldn’t have, but that’s not why I blame myself. I feel I’m to blame because I was on duty, and I was a cop. I should’ve known better. I had a responsibility to the people in the house, to my pa
rtner, and to myself, and I let everyone down.”

  “You didn’t mean to,” I said gently as I moved forward, so I was standing in front of him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed.

  Startled, William looked up, the depth of pain and guilt reflected in his irises made me want to press him close to me and make him forget about everything.

  But I didn’t know how to do that. I just knew how to be there for him while he relived one of the most painful experiences of his life. I would be there to help him make sense of it all, and to help him pick up the pieces.

  That part I could do.

  “Whether or not I meant to is irrelevant. There were so many moments when I could’ve stopped using, when I could’ve recognized that I had a problem, and that I needed help,” William intoned, bitterly.

  “That’s not how addiction works. It controls you, not the other way around.”

  William swallowed thickly. “I used to think so, but really I wanted to be high all the time. When I first found the cocaine, my initial instinct was to toss it out, but I wanted to know what it felt like. I thought maybe it would help to dampen the pain of losing my wife.”

  “I’m sure it did for a while.”

  “For a while,” he agreed. “Until I would sober up again and then I just got back into it so I could feel the high.”

  I stood up and then sat down next to him, placing my arm around his shoulder. William struck me as the type who wasn’t used to physical comfort, so it was no surprise that he stiffened initially before he leaned into me.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Angel. I liked it at first. In fact, I loved it. I was on cloud nine. I didn’t care about anyone or anything, least of all what my ex-wife did. It was almost amazing how I suddenly didn’t feel depressed anymore. I actually felt like there was nothing I couldn’t do, like I was invincible.”

  My heart broke when he said the words.

  “William, it’s perfectly normal to want to switch off after what happened with your wife,” I consoled. “Nobody can blame you for that.”