“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said. “I want you to know that. And I suppose you know this already, but I meant none of it. I thought I was being noble.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
She was waiting for more.
And in that moment, he knew she deserved honesty. He needn’t describe every detail, but she ought to know what had happened, and why he couldn’t ever seem to leave it behind.
He drew in a breath and told himself they were only memories. “It happened not long after I went to the Dakota Territory, about a year after I enlisted.” And so he told her, of the Great Sioux War, of the singular battle north of the Black Hills that had shaken every moral fiber of his being to its core, of how he’d been unable to move upon seeing the inhumanity that men he’d come to think of as friends had enacted upon one little village, of how he’d done nothing but stood fixed in one place, and of how the vivid memories had taken up residence in his mind ever since.
Afterward, Ruthann slid from the chair to the edge of the bed, and gently, she’d laid her head and a hand on his chest. Nate rested one of his hands on the back of her head and let a breath of relief shudder through him as he closed his eyes.
How was it that the simple telling of a horrible tale made him feel as if he’d been born anew? It was as if he could breathe freely again. The memories were still there—he was certain they’d never disappear—but they were in the past.
“You were never a coward,” Ruthann said, her voice thrumming through him straight to his heart. “You were simply a good man. And you still are. Thank you for telling me.”
He let her words sink in. He hadactedwhen it came to saving Ruthann. He hadn’t been a coward when it counted. And . . . he let her words tumble through his mind . . . She was right.
He tightened his hold around her and breathed in her scent. “I am so sorry,” he said again. He didn’t think he could ever apologize enough. She’d done nothing but be her true, kind, incredible self, and he’d tossed that aside.
“I forgive you,” she said, lifting her head to catch his eyes. “Do you forgive yourself?”
“Maybe not yet. Not for how I treated you. But I’ll work on it.”
She smiled. “I suppose that’s all I can ask. Now . . . I don’t suppose you remember what you said right before you lost consciousness?”
He wrinkled his forehead in jest. He did, in fact, remember. “I imagine I asked if the hardware store had ordered new glass for the back door?”
Ruthann’s eyebrows twitched down, confused, but only for a second. Then she gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I told Mr. Yost that he needn’t order any. You much preferred the look of a torn burlap sack over a glass window.”
Nate started to laugh, which immediately made a dose of fiery pain course through his side.
Ruthann slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no, I’m sorry! Are you all right?”
Nate grimaced but hid it quickly with a smile. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t make me laugh. These are serious times.”
That drew a grin from her again. “You do remember, don’t you?”
He opened his hand, waiting for hers, and she granted his request. As he wrapped her fingers securely in his, he nodded. “I’m fairly certain I told you I love you.”
She beamed, and Nate didn’t think he’d ever seen anything prettier in his life.
“The usual thing to do is to say the same to the man who says it to you,” he supplied.
Ruthann blushed. “Nate Harper, I do believe you’re acting as you did when you were nineteen.”
He did feel younger, almost as if he weren’t carrying a weight the size of a mountain on his back.
“I hope to tease you often, but I’m afraid I can’t do that if you don’t feel about me the same as I feel for you.” He raised his eyebrows in mock indignation.
Ruthann shook her head. “I love you. You know I do. I just as much as told you so that evening in front of the fire.”
“I don’t know if I believe it without a kiss,” he said, shrugging the shoulder on the side that didn’t hurt.
“You are incorrigible. But yes, I love you. And yes, I’ll kiss you.” She leaned over him then and pressed her lips to his.
Nate laid his free hand against the back of her head, relishing the feel of her mouth against his. She sighed, and he decided it was a good thing he was incapacitated, or he’d be tempted to pull her down beside him.
She drew away slightly, out of breath, and he tangled his hand in her hair, hoping to convince her to come back, to kiss him until neither of them could breathe.
