too deeply, I’ll simply say that I don’t have family outside of this unit. I don’t have anyone waiting for me to come home from this trip, either. Even joining the army was a no-brainer, since I was eighteen and on the verge of getting kicked out of the system.
I get scared on behalf of the other guys. I hate seeing them get hurt, or worse. I get scared every time your brother pulls some reckless crap, but that’s not my choice.
But I will tell you the biggest choice. I bought a tract of land, sight unseen, simply because it came recommended to me. The owner was in a bind, and I took the plunge. I have no idea what to do with it, either. My investment guy—yes, I have one of those so I don’t die broke—told me to hold on to it and sell it to developers when I want to retire. Your brother said to build a house and settle down.
Now that scares me. The idea of settling somewhere, not starting over every few years, is a little terrifying. There’s a peace that comes with being such a nomad. I start fresh when I move. A clean slate just waiting for me to mess it up. Hey, I warned you, I’m crap with people. Settling down means I have to work on not alienating everyone around me because I’m stuck with them. That, or I become a mountain hermit and grow a really long beard, which might actually be the easier choice.
I guess I’ll let you know when I figure out which decision to make.
Your place sounds great, and I have the ultimate faith that you made the right choice mortgaging it for improvements. Like you said, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
What the heck do you put in these cookies? Because they’re seriously addicting. I might curse you after I run a few extra miles, but these are so worth it.
Thank you again,
~ Chaos
…
“You’re sure this is the right way?” I asked Maisie as we pulled onto the dirt road. “We’re really close to Solitude.”
Telluride. Beckett was still in Telluride. He hadn’t left. Hadn’t moved on like I’d so foolishly assumed.
“That’s what the lady says from the GPS pin he texted you,” Maisie answered, waving the phone with the Google Maps app open. “Do I really get to see Beckett?”
The hope in her voice was brutal.
“Yeah, for a few minutes.” I tried to keep my tone light but failed miserably. Maybe it was the exhaustion from two weeks of hospitalization with Maisie for the radiation. Maybe it was hearing that another kid Maisie had met in Denver passed last week. Maybe it was Beckett.
Or maybe my heart was simply broken by all of the above.
“I miss him,” she said softly.
“Me, too, love,” I answered without thinking.
“No, you don’t. If you missed him, you’d call him. You’d let us see him.” Her tone was anything but understanding as we wove our way through the woods.
“Maisie, it’s not that easy. Sometimes relationships just don’t work out, and you might not really understand that until you’re older.”
“Okay.”
Man, I was in for it when this sassafras became a teenager. Then I smiled, realizing she had a shot at becoming a teenager now.
Because of Beckett.
But the lies were woven in with the love, and that was the killer. The lies didn’t wipe out everything he’d done for me, for us. They didn’t wipe out the way it felt when he kissed me, the way my body fired on all cylinders when he was in a room. They didn’t wipe out the way he loved the kids, or the way they loved him.
But that love didn’t wipe out the lies, either, or my fear that he’d tell more.
And there was our impasse.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t see past what he’d done to understand why he’d done it. It was simply that I couldn’t afford to trust him.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as we came upon the house. I looked at the lake, just to be sure, then back at the house. I would have asked Maisie if she was sure, but Colt came running out of the house with Havoc on his heels, and that answered the question.
Beckett owned the twenty-five acres I’d sold off two years ago to that investment company.
The house itself was beautiful. Built in the log-cabin style, which matched the ones in Solitude. It was two stories with multiple A-frame rooflines and stone pillars. It was classic, rustic, and modern,