“Why have you brought this to me? If you’re not giving it to me.” My teeth caught my bottom lip as I watched him take a deep breath.
“I guess it’s, what’s the word…” He looked out of the window to the school yard where Edward our janitor was cleaning up stray bits of litter. “Symbolic,” he suddenly announced. “It’s symbolic of my belief in you. In the good luck that I want you to have no matter what your choice is. It’s a loan because one day I hope thatwecan pay it forward to someone else. And,” he sighed, “if there is no we, then you can.”
It was then that I noticed a piece of paper folded and pressed into the lid. My name was written on in his unmistakable scrawl.
“What’s this?” I asked, pulling it free.
He squinted with a groan. “A back up plan in case you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Can I read it?”
He shrugged. “I guess so, I can’t embarrass myself any more than I already have.”
Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the single piece of lined notebook paper, the creases still fresh from where he’d hesitated and then I read.
Cass,
If you’re reading this, I guess you’re still not ready to talk to me. And I get that. I do.
I’ve gone over what happened more times than I can count, trying to figure out what I could’ve said differently, done better, or undone altogether. But it always ends the same, with me messing up, and you walking away. And the thing is, I deserved that. I made a huge mountain out of a tiny mole hill.
I told myself I was right to be angry but truth? I was just scared. Scared of you walking away. Scared of needing someone as badly as I need you.
You see me, really see me, in a way no one else ever has. And that scares the hell out of me, too.
I’m not writing this to beg for forgiveness or ask you to come back. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. For all of it. For not showing up the way I should have. For not understanding your worries. For pushing you away when you were the only good thing I had going.
If you never speak to me again, I’ll understand. But I hope, someday, you’ll remember me as more than the guy who broke your heart.
Yours always
Gunner x
My eyes were burning by the end of it. Not just because of what he’d written – but because he hadn’t even known if I’d let him explain in person. He’d come anyway and that was the measure of the man he was, the man I hadn’t really known three years ago. He wasn’t afraid to risk everything for me.
Folding the letter I put it back into the box and closed the lid, wrapping my fingers around it and pressing it against my chest. “I am committed to the camp, Gunner,” I whispered. “Please don’t think I’m not. It’s just that this is my job, my career, my passion.”
“I know, Cassidy, believe me I do. I was wrong for losing my shit like I did. I should have listened and let you explain. God,” he threw his hands in the air, “you didn’t need to explain. I should have just understood.”
“No, you’re right I should have clarified what I was thinking.” I reached down to cup his cheek. “In fact, I think we both need to improve our communication skills.”
Gunner rose slowly, taking my hand from his cheek and moving it to his chest, pressing his own over the top. It was warm and comforting along with his heartbeat that I could feel under my fingertips. Along with the soft cotton of his shirt. His white one that enhanced his deep ranchman’s tan.
“Did you wear this shirt on purpose because you know it does things to me?” I asked.
“Maybe.” He grinned. “But can you let me say what I want to say before you objectify me please.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m so sorry, please go ahead.”
He pulled me to standing and I looked up at him, one hand still against his chest while my other went to his waist, anchoring myself to him.
His heart beneath my fingers picked up pace as he slowly inhaled. “I would love it if we could see the camp through together. Your incredible idea has become my dream. Your vision has brought excitement to all of us, and I got carried away. I panicked because I don’t want to do it without you. I mean I would, but it wouldn’t be the same.” His eyelashes fluttered as his brown pools screamed panic.
“I want it, too.” I protested. “I want it with you.”
“But I don’t want you to give up your own dream.”
“Don’t you see, honey, I can have more than one dream.” I stood on tiptoe, so my lips were closer to his and whispered, “Teaching is a dream as are you and the camp. In fact, you’re my dreamy cowboy.”
