Page 62 of Since Day One

Slinking back against the bleachers into the shadows to hide, Rob and Carsen both shared a confused glance, pausing instead of continuing out of the arena.

“You good boss?” Rob asked cautiously. Gunnar turned to him emotionlessly and just stared for a moment, then continued entering the arena without a word. I watched from my corner, waiting for the perfect time to escape, wishing that I could take it all back.

“Where’s Willow?” Carsen asked Rob, and he shrugged, both of them watching Gunnar. He wasn’t wearing his chaps today and had on a grungy overcoat. Even his button-up wasn’t as crisp as normal, and his hazel eyes seemed dull. I waited until Luke was turned out in the round pen and Gunnar was walking toward the hot walker to make my exit.

But he turned around before I’d been able to slip out silently, and we locked eyes. His brows lifted, his chin raised as if he was hopeful, while I felt simply small and embarrassed. We studied each other for a moment with me wanting so badly to apologize, to tell him I hadn’t meant anything by what had happened last night.

Gunnar took a step toward me, except I instinctively took one away and bumped into the wall. He paused, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Willow, I—“ he started, but I shook my head and turned, running from the arena before he gave me another reason to feel guilty. I ran past Rob and Carsen, who had watched the entire thing; both of them shouted after me, but I ignored them.

The sun was barely peeking over the mountaintop as I stumbled into the lodge, not feeling a single pang of hunger despite the fact that I had yet to eat since dinner last night. Instead of making my way into the kitchen, I silently padded into the living room and sat down on the sectional.

And there I sat as the world kept turning around me.

So still, so silent. My family came and went, not even noticing that I was a statue upon the couch. What was happening? I was so confused and lost, wondering if I should approach him and apologize or continue to remain absent. Would it make him even more upset at me if I tried, or would it fix the mess that I had made? Was I acting immature now by avoiding him even if I only did so because I didn’t want to upset him further? I understood, more than he might realize about how hard it could be to talk about things that hold a lot of pain.

I was scared.

Of course I screwed something up that already had a time limit on it. A hot tear slid down my cheek despite the fact I thought I’d cried every last drop last night before falling asleep. But it fell freely, followed by another. I should just go home now while the heartbreak was fresh before I became more and more attached to someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with me anymore.

“Would you like some company, dear?” A soft voice pierced my thoughts, and I quickly wiped away the stain upon my face. Looking up, I saw an older, plump woman with the kindest eyes standing behind the couch. It was the woman I once thought was Gunnar’s mother.

Her weathered face showed years of joy, and her bright green eyes with thick laugh lines were watching me with a kind patience. She had on a beautiful knitted sweater with pine trees and snow, paired with soft jeans. I sniffed and grabbed a pillow next to me, hugging it tightly against my body. It didn’t replicate the desire I felt to be held by Gunnar, but I didn’t know what else to do.

She walked around the edge of the couch and sat down, smoothing her lap, her eyes still twinkling beneath her gray, curly hair. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to officially introduce myself. I’m Katherine, Gunnar and Ruger’s mom.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “It’s alright. I’m Willow.”

“I know who you are, dear,” she kindly replied, leaning back against the couch and sighing. “I’m also sorry for how Gunnar reacted last night. It was not appropriate for him to be upset at you like that.”

I shrugged, tucking the pillow closer to my chest. “I understand what it feels like to not want to talk about something.”

She tenderly smiled, looking so much like Sally, running her hands over her sweater to smooth out the wrinkles. I didn’t say anything as she sighed softly and watched me with the most endearing gaze. Eventually, she spoke softly and her eyes became distant. “My husband and I were never able to have children of our own. We tried for years and years before finally deciding that, to become parents, we would have to go a different route.”

Katherine paused, and I sat forward, listening to her voice that soothed me. “We were older by that point and blessed with a home such as this, so we decided that we wouldn’t adopt an infant, but someone older and less likely to find that forever family, to be adopted. So, we opened our doors to foster children. Many came in and out of our home, eventually being reunited with their biological parents.”

A tear welled with the memories and slid down her cheek, one full of love and compassion. It seemed like she’d once given up hope for a gift that she was now eternally grateful for. “One day we received a call. Two brothers had once again been rejected from another emergency placement. The older one apparently was getting into fights all the time, which put the biological children at risk. He also refused to go anywhere without his little brother, which limited their options. Jack and I accepted without hesitation, and that’s how we met Gunnar and Ruger.”

Her eyes drifted away from me, staring at the fire as memories flashed through her mind. “He was such a sensitive little boy and so full of anger. All Gunnar knew about this world was that everyone tried to take away the people he loved and cared about the most. First his parents, then Ruger, and somehow, in that little boy’s mind, he believed he was responsible for it all. At four-years-old, he had become a caretaker of his sibling, and he was practically a tiny adult by the time he arrived here at age eight.”

“Four?” I gasped, and she nodded.

“We weren’t able to officially adopt them until Gunnar was eleven and Ruger was ten. During those three years, I constantly feared that my boys would be taken away from me. A feeling that I would never wish upon my greatest enemy. And it was during that time that I realized, as a child, Gunnar had lived in that same state of fear for nearly his entire life. He doesn’t talk about what happened while in foster care to anyone, not even me. Ruger does, but his memories are so different from Gunnar’s. Positive and more fun.” She paused and turned toward me. Standing up from the couch, she walked over and sat down directly beside me.

Taking my hand in hers, she patted it and continued. “This is not an excuse for his behavior. But I have learned that understanding the motivation behind someone’s actions provides better sympathy in understanding their reactions.”

I nodded. “What happened to his parents?”

She took a deep breath, a tense anger crossing her features briefly. “I think that is something he should share with you. Maybe he’ll open up to you in a way he’s never done with anyone else. Ever. Not even me or his father.” I blinked, trying to not cry again as tears slid down her own cheeks. There was so much pain and happiness in that story. Ruger and Gunnar were her boys, her sons, no matter how they came to be—they were hers, and she loved them so dearly. But there was a lot of heartache and sorrow involved with all of that.

Katherine sniffed and patted my hand again. “Ruger told Jesse when they began dating and is so open about it. I don’t think she realizes how different it is for Gunnar,” she answered my question before I’d even needed to ask.

“Why are you telling me all of this? You don’t know me,” I quietly said, and she chuckled.

“I know what you’ve been for Gunnar since coming here. And even though you’ll be leaving eventually, I can’t tell you how wonderful it’s been to see my son so alive again,” she answered, her smile so infectious that I couldn’t help but return it. This was true mother’s love, something I only began to experience once Kurt and Sally took me in at seventeen. They helped me finish high school online and opened their home to a strange girl who barely told them anything about herself. Yet they never judged and never once held back on love and compassion despite how distant I’ve always been about my personal life. I owed them more than I’d ever thanked them for.

“Except for now,” I said through a small laugh, and she chuckled.

“I know it’s asking a lot, but will you be patient with him?” she pressed, and I nodded without hesitation. She let out a deep breath in relief and smiled even broader, then wrapped me in a hug. I tensed up beneath her embrace briefly, surprised by the open gesture of care, before wrapping my own arms around her.

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