I scoff and let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Are you serious? I don’t want to be mean, but I have at least a hundred other people I’d go to for advice before you. What angle do you offer that no one else could?”
His eyes darken. “I’ve made mistakes that no one could possibly replicate, kid. Big ones. You’d be a fool if you didn’t listen to what I’m about to say.”
That sobers me. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“When life gets you down, and it will, more than once, you need to rise from the ashes of your mistakes and become the heroine of your own story. You are making your own legacy. Everything you have earned is because of who you are, not because of who your parents are. Never be the woman who they want you to be. I lost your mother and if that wasn’t bad enough, I turned into the villain and lost you, too.”
Aaron runs his hands through his hair. This is uncomfortable for him to talk about. With good reason. It’s making me squirm, but I can’t deny the truth in his words. He meets my eyes again, and wrinkles appear when he smiles. “When you find the right man, and that Henry was definitely not the right one, don’t ever let go. Fight like I know you were raised to fight. Fight beyond reason and measure. Beyond logic. At the end of the day, you’re able to say you couldn’t have waged war any fiercer. There’re no regrets that way.”
“You have regrets?” My bottom lip trembles.
He nods once. A firm gesture. “And all I can do is apologize for them now. There’s no fixing at this point. Just apologies and forgiveness.”
I cast my eyes down to the peeling Formica. “I understand.” I think about how I’m dancing around the obvious with Luke right now when I know he’s the one for me.
“Good. Thank you for letting me give you that. You don’t trust me with good reason, but I said it out loud today. For the first time since I tallied all my losses.”
My happiness at receiving something from him is marred by our reality. “What does Rochelle think about all your regrets?”
His smile turns sad. “I never brought them with me, kid. I couldn’t. That was part of severing off my foot to save my body. You know? Seeing you, ah, that hits me in the chest and it’s when I feel the regrets. You look so much like Natalie did at your age. It’s…hard.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears. It’s falling from my haphazard ponytail. “Well, I guess I’m glad you got that off your chest. I’m going to be late for dinner with my parents.”
He presses his lips together in a firm line. “That’s fair. Thanks for taking time out of your day to meet with your old man.”
Ten minutes ago, I would have corrected him. Now I feel even worse for him than I ever have. Is that sympathy? It feels out of place. “No problem.”
His smile turns sad when I stand and readjust my bag on my shoulder. “Goodbye, Aaron. Be well.”
“Bye, Aarabelle.”
I’m about to walk away and who knows when the next time I’ll see him is, so I make a rash decision. “Go ahead and save my number in your phone.”
He bows his head, scruffy hair covering his face. “I will. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
My feet feel like lead as I make my way out the door to my car. Pulling onto the freeway, I try to make sense of all my thoughts, but one sticks out from the rest. Aaron Gilcher finally set me free.
* * *
I hug my dad tighter than I usually do before I leave my parents’ house after dinner. Neither of them brought up the meeting with Aaron even though they knew. My dad did bring up Luke Hart. Multiple times. When I spoke with Lt. Williams today and she asked the precursory question she always does about conduct with my teammates, I told her nothing was amiss, which is truthful. The guys are treating me normal—surly and sarcastically friendly. I’m truculent and acerbic back. It’s the way things work, and I wouldn’t want it sugar-coated even if it was a viable option.
Jonas, the stoic, stone wall of a man, stops me when I get to the sprawling iron gate. He’s in a little mirrored box that connects to a smaller house. It must be where all the security is located and where the poor guy lives, watching Luke like a sitcom, his only form of entertainment. He waves me in, the gate creaking open. Does he get days off? A life outside of these walls? Does he sneak a girlfriend in and watch the video monitors while he eats dinner with her? Are there substitute Jonas stand-ins? I’m making up pretend scenarios while I park my car, so I don’t see Luke coming.
He opens my door and pulls me against his bare chest. “Do you own shirts?” I say against his skin. I inhale his scent and settle into his embrace.
“It’s far more comfortable to be in my own skin, you should try it.” He drops a kiss on my head and releases me as I pop my trunk to grab my gym bag. “Margarita did the shopping today so we’re all stocked up.” My stomach flips at the word we.
He takes the bag from me. “There’s some stinky PT gear in there,” I warn.
“Lucky PT gear,” he says, raising one brow. “Got to be all over you while you were sweating.”
I hit the work gym after my meeting with Lt. Williams because that’s how I take out anything I’m feeling odd or upset about. I run them out.
“That’s pretty gross, Hart.”
He shrugs me off as we walk up the stairs and into his house. When the door closes behind me, I sigh. “What a day.”
