“You won’t believe what a beautiful young lady our daughter is turning out to be,” Gabe told Abi’s picture, his voice thick. “She’s smart and brave and kind. She’s got your sense of humor. Your compassion. Your strength.”
He sat there holding the wallet for a long moment, letting the grief wash over him and then recede the way it always did. You never got over losing someone you loved. You just learned to carry it.
Thinking of Trinity made his eyes go to the connecting door between their rooms. Gabe got out of bed carefully, mindful of his cast. He moved quietly across the room and opened the connecting door without making a sound.
Trinity was sprawled across the bed in that boneless way kids slept, completely relaxed and trusting. The blankets had beenkicked off entirely, tangled at the foot of the bed. One arm hung off the side of the mattress. Her other arm clutched the stuffed rabbit she’d had since she was a baby. It was worn and faded, but still her most treasured possession.
Her face was peaceful in sleep. No worry lines, no fear, just the innocent relaxation of a child who felt safe.
Gabe’s heart physically ached looking at her.
All the deployments. All the missed moments. All the times he’d chosen missions over being home, chosen danger over safety, chosen everything except being the father she deserved.
The guilt crashed over him the way it always did. She’d lost her mother at six years old. Lost the parent who’d been constant and present. She was left with the parent who was always leaving, always choosing something else over her.
But also the fierce love that would burn the world down to keep her safe. The knowledge that this child, this amazing, resilient, beautiful child, was the most important thing in his life. That he’d do anything for her. Be anything she needed.
Gabe watched her sleep for a long moment, making promises he hoped he could keep.
“I’m here now,” he whispered. “I’m trying to be better. I promise I’m trying.”
He carefully closed the door, letting her sleep.
Gabe knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not after the nightmare, not with his mind racing about Simon and Terryand the threat to the inn. His usual routine would be to go for a run, do his full exercise routine, and push his body until his mind quieted.
But the cast on his leg made that impossible. It made everything impossible. He was trapped in this useless body that couldn’t even run away from its own thoughts.
Frustrating didn’t begin to cover it.
But he could walk. The boardwalk would be flat, safe, and manageable even on crutches.
Gabe fought to get dressed, and despite his frustration, he had to laugh at himself. Six weeks ago, he could have suited up for a combat mission in under three minutes. Now it was taking him fifteen minutes to get into sweatpants.
His SEAL training did help. He had exceptional balance, which meant he could stand on one leg while wrestling the sweatpants up with his hands. He hopped around the room trying to get his good leg through without falling over.
He nearly fell putting his shoe on his good foot, but caught himself against the wall.
“Still got it,” he muttered sarcastically to himself.
The crutches were the worst part. He hated them with a passion. They made him slow, clumsy, dependent. Everything he’d spent his life training not to be.
But they were necessary if he wanted to move around without further damaging his leg.
Gabe grabbed his phone and wallet, tucked them in his pockets, and quietly left his room. The inn was silent at this hour, as it was barely six AM. He should be able to get out without running into anyone.
He was wrong.
His mother was in the lobby, dressed for a run in fitted leggings and a lightweight jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she looked younger somehow, more like the woman he remembered from before his father’s betrayal had aged her.
She startled when she saw him. “Gabe, sweetheart! You’re up.”
Gabe smiled despite everything. “Could say the same about you.”
Holly looked better than she had last night. The shock from seeing Simon and Terry had worn off, replaced by something steadier. Determination, maybe. His mother had always been strong. She was his rock.
Gabe couldn’t help teasing her a little, trying to lighten both their moods. “So... you and Jack seem to have gotten pretty close. In the space of a week.”
Holly’s cheeks colored slightly. “Jack is a good man. It’s nice to be helping him save the inn.” She paused, then added softly, “It’s a great Christmas cause.”
