And there it was, the choice that could not be ignored or put off any longer. Up until Gideon plucked her out of the prison van, it had been Mackenzie versus Bullseye, black and white, right versus wrong. Not anymore.
There was another person in the passenger seat now, a man whom she suddenly realized she hadn’t really known properly at all. Someone whose future was riding on her choices.
A man she cared for very much.
She let out a breath, pressed the gas, and eased the vehicle into a wide left turn. She could feel his shocked reaction as he stared at her.
“Left?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Because,” she said slowly. How could she express all that was going on in her spirit? Her heart? “I’ve changed my mind.”
****
Gideon thought the sheer overwhelming bliss of a functioning heater and the blood loss from the scrape across his side had messed with his mental acuity. “We’re not going to the airstrip anymore?”
She didn’t look at him, just kept the camper creeping forward. “You heard me.”
“Yes, I did. But why, Zee?”
“I’m not totally sure.”
He took in her wet hair, the small hands clutching the wheel, the pain in the line of her jaw, and the crimp of her mouth. The choice had cost her. In letting go, she’d also given something up. “How about you tell me what you can?”
She was quiet for a full minute as they rolled along. “I ... When you collapsed back by the cabin after you’d been shot, I thought you were dying.”
He opened his mouth to make a joke but closed it again.Listen, his soul whispered.
A few more seconds ticked by. “I showed up before they’d moved Aaron from the shooting scene. Did you know that?”
His mouth went dry. “No, I didn’t.”
“Since I was in the academy, I knew all the on-duty cops. They called me immediately once they ID’d him. I got to the gas station when the medics were still working on him, but I knew it was too late.” Her voice broke, and he put a hand on her knee. She didn’t acknowledge his touch.
“I’m sorry. So sorry you had to go through that.”
She blinked. “As they took him away, I thought of amillion things I should have done differently. If I’d texted him, if I’d snooped through his room, if I’d pressured you harder to talk to him.”
A lump formed in his throat. He hadn’t known. He should’ve.
“I questioned my own actions, wondering if I’d been thinking about myself instead of Aaron. You know what happened after that?”
“No.”
“I lost the ability to feel anything. Almost literally. Like, I didn’t know what season it was, if it was cold or hot, or if I felt hunger or fatigue. It was as if something inside blinked off, like a flipped switch. I stopped talking to any of my friends and really even my parents. We still spoke about superficial things, but nothing of substance. I wanted to, and they probably needed me to help them process Aaron’s murder, but I couldn’t deal with anything because I was numb.”
“I can understand that.”
The RV rolled on through the darkening woods. “The only emotion I was able to regain was anger, at Bullseye.” She paused. “And at you.”
“So what’s changed now?”
“I can feel again.” She shrugged. “Maybe all this near-death experience stuff did it. Or ...” She glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “Doesn’t matter, but I can feel again.” Her brows knitted. “And let me tell you, most of the feelings are garbage, and I liked it better numb.”
He smiled. “I hear you.”
