Page 36 of Man of Honor
“Nothing,” I blurted. “Just wondering how long you’re planning on keeping me.A man could get used to this kind of service.”
“As long as it takes,” he replied, pressing the plate into my waiting hands.He settled on the coffee table, in much the same way Dominic had, and took a quick sip from a steaming coffee cup.
“I can walk now,” I mumbled, forking up a bite of moist, deliciously salty eggs.One taste, and my hunger was roaring to life.“I should be good to go by tomorrow.”
He took another sip of coffee, watching me idly over the rim, and said, “That’s not what I meant.”
I glanced up, fork poised halfway to my mouth.“What did you mean?”
He leaned forward, resting a hand on the cushion near my thigh.It didn't feel like he was making some casual offer.More like he was staking a claim.“You’re stuck with me for as long as it takes, until you realize you don’t have to keep facing everything alone.I’m in your corner, Gage. Have been from day one.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed, unable to reply even if I’d known what to say.Years ago, I would've given anything to hear that from him, but now, it terrified me.
His hand slid from thecushionto my thigh, anchoring me with touch more than words.“My feelings for you might have shifted over the years.I won’t lie about that. But whatever twisted path we took to get here doesn’t matter anymore.Because one thing never changed.Whether you believe it or not, I'd do anything foryou.Don't ever doubt how far I'dgo.I'm not sure either of us wants toknow."
Chapter Seventeen
WYATT
After more than a week,Gage's bruises had finally faded to a palette of ugly, swampy colors.He wasn't in much pain anymore, not more than some ibuprofen could fix, but there was still a certain caution to his movements.
He slept nearly all day while I was on shift, doing the important work of healing, but I clocked him growing bored and restless.It was clear in the twitchy way he drummed his fingers on his thighs during dinner, or the way he drifted off in the middle of a movie, looking a million miles away and none too happy about it.He’d always been a high energy kid, but aimless in a way his brothers weren’t.It bugged him, I think, having no purpose.
So, I decided it was time for a field trip.
We launched my skiff in the periwinkle light of dawn, gliding through the bayou with only the rumble of the trolling motor for background noise.I’d had her for years, a simple flat-bottom skiff with a shallow draft, perfect for these tangled waterways.At this time of day, the air was still cool and damp, heavy with the scent of rotting vegetation.Cypress roots thrust from the shallow banks like spindly fingers, and minnows rippled acrossthe surface of the water.The bayou was waking, but slowly, as if savoring the quiet, sacred moments before the heat settled.
Gage was lounging in that lazy, crooked way he had whenever he was trying to get comfortable without giving his ribs too much grief.His hand trailed in the water, fingertips barely skimming the surface, totally unconcerned by the gator creeping along the distant bank.With the light hitting him just right, he looked more like his old self than he had in days.
“I knew you’d like this,” I said smugly, flipping open my metal tackle box and sifting through it by memory.My hand found a red spinnerbait, bright and flashy, with a little spoon attached to catch the sun just right.Perfect for coaxing redfish from their weed-choked hiding spots.
“You did, huh?” Gage asked, shooting me an amused look.
I tested the hook’s sharpness with the pad of my thumb, keeping it casual and saying idly, “Figured you were damn near climbing the walls by now.”
“Yeah, well…you were right.” A smile tugged the corner of his mouth as he began threading his own lure.“I’m not a fan of being stuck in one place.But you probably figured that out already.”
I steered deeper into the bayou, taking my time before answering.Over the years, I’d learned that the best way to approach Gage was sideways—so he didn’t see it coming.“I noticed. When you left…I thought that was the last I’d ever see of you.Figured you’d be happy to shake the dirt of this place off your boots for good.”
Gage looked out over the water, lost in thought, chewing on a reply.Out here, there was no one watching.No one to judge.Just the green-scented breeze and the ripple of water slipping past the hull.And still, his hand clenched and unclenched on his thigh, and his eyes never stopped moving.Never. He'd been raised to believe staying alert meant staying alive.
"Leaving solved a lot of problems," he said quietly, "and after what happened, I didn't think anyone would miss me much.Especially not you."
He should have just punched me in the gut; it would hurt less.All his swagger and tough talk made it too easy for me to ignore how badly I'd hurt him.
He cracked his neck and stretched, shifting to a lighter tone.“Sure missed this, though.”
“Nothing like it," I agreed, casting my line and watching as the lure skimmed the surface."Was there anything you liked about Vegas?"
“It was nice not having memories around every corner, I guess.My name meant nothing. No one knew me or expected anything.” He cast his own line into the water with a soft plunk.“But it gets lonely without memories after a while.”
After a beat, I said, "There have to be some good memories here.They can't all be bad."
He chuckled, eyes going unfocused, like he was seeing far into the distance—or the past.“Yeah, there are good memories.Especially out here. When I was maybe eight or nine, I used to sneak out to go fishing all by myself.Didn’t have much, but I made myself a little fishing kit out of some string and a rusty hook I found in my dad’s shed.I could’ve sat there for hours.The world’s first eight-year-old survivalist.”
Looking at him now, so hard and strong, it was jarring to think back on the boy he'd once been.If I hadn't been tracking poachers that day, I'd never have spotted the scrawny little boy with mud smeared across his cheeks like camouflage.He'd been hiding in the roots of an old cypress, watching me with huge, hunted gray eyes.No one had ever looked at me the way he did, like I was a hero, and I knew right then that I'd do whatever it took to protect that kid.
I regretted hurting him, but sometimes I wondered if his catching a bus out of Devil's Garden was the best thing for both of us.It gave him a chance to come home a man.Without that time and space, I never could have seen him as anything more than the boy I'd rescued.