Page 18 of Operation: Chosen

“I only met him briefly right near the end of our relationship.”

At least he’d said it kindly. He could’ve easily pointed out again that she’d been the one to end things between them. Their separation was her fault entirely. “Did you ask his permission to marry me?”

He stiffened at her side, but his face remained the same. “What can I say? I’m an old-fashioned guy.”

An old-fashioned guy who had treated her so well until she’d given him a very good reason not to. Even then he’d kept to himself after they’d parted. She’d never gotten a hint of any anger or resentment until she’d arrived at Wayside.

“He’s the reason. He’s the reason I turned you down. There were things that went on in my life that no one knows about, but they were things that drove me to work, drove me to perfection, drove me to success.”

Eric slowly shook his head, then his shoulders fell as he looked down at his feet. “They drove you away from me. And since you seem very much the same as the woman who stood on that beach and loudly told everyone my shortcomings, I have to believe they still would. Your uncle may have done some awful things, and I’m sorry for that. I truly am. But you have to be you. At some point, you need to decide if he’s to blame for the person you are, or if he’s just a good excuse.”

Eric took a deep breath, then continued. “We help people here at Wayside. People whose pasts are probably worse than yours. We teach them to take days slowly, to be careful with how long you allow yourself to feel like a victim. It’s okay to feel that way if you are, but you can’t live there. At some point, you need a new identity, one that is yours and yours alone, not the sum of what someone else has done.”

Ali brushed a stray hair out of her eye and raked it behind her ear. Never in her life would she have thought of herself that way, but he was right. She was living under the cloud of her uncle even if she’d never thought of it that way.

And worse, she was pretty sure Eric was living under her cloud. Would she want to face her uncle again if he’d asked for a second chance? She flinched and turned away from Eric. How could she have become what she hated the most?

ChapterEight

Eric had to be out of his mind. Why would he want to talk to Ali? He strode up the steps of the porch to the ranch house, sure that he had to have lost all common sense. In the span of less than a week, he’d gone from vowing he would have nothing to do with Ali to having a genuine conversation with her. Some might even have called their discussion meaningful.

He paused near the front door of the huge lodge house and heard angry shouting coming from inside. Even when Brendon was with a guest and having a deeply emotional session, yelling in the lodge was rare. He opened the door and listened to see where the arguing was coming from.

Down the hall where Brendon and Connor had their offices, he heard the sounds of scuffling with grunts and shouts. Connor’s office was closer, and the door hung open. The sound couldn’t be coming from there or it would have been louder. He rushed to the end of the hall. Brendon was fully capable of taking care of himself, even from his wheelchair, but that didn’t mean Eric was going to just stand by and let him deal with a brawl alone.

He shoved open the door and took a moment to assess the situation. Brendon’s chairs were upended, his desk askew, and he and Connor were doing their best to keep Big E and Jayzon from pummeling Terrell. Eric grabbed hold of Terrell and yanked him away from the reach of swinging punches.

“What’s going on?” Eric glanced from Brendon to Connor, then at the boys.

“Terrell was telling Brendon about the gang. I heard him from the hallway. They will kill you for that,” Big E said, lunging at Terrell. “If you thought you were going to live, you’re wrong. They’ll know. They always know. You’re as good as dead.”

Terrell pushed forward and stood nose to nose with Big E. “Yeah, they’ll know because you’re a snitch.”

Big E swung hard, and Terrell dodged the blow, pushing Eric out of the way. Jayzon struggled against Brendon’s grip. “This isn’t cool. Get your hands off me,” Jayzon said, yanking against Brendon’s hold.

“I think we’d better get them separated for a while. I’ll take Terrell.” Eric spun the boy around toward the door. Terrell might not want to, but he was leaving.

Terrell jerked his arm free of Eric’s grasp, but he strode ahead until they reached the entryway. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I don’t want to talk to you. I just want to get out of here.”

“Right now, you have no choice.” Eric glanced at the boy’s clothing. While it wasn’t suited to riding, it would work. At least he wasn’t wearing shorts. Eric kept him moving until they reached the barns.

Eric had struggled with anger management as a very young man but had learned to control it the same way he’d learned to train horses: at his father’s side. His dad had taught him about life, about finding peace—even though Dad could be an even bigger hothead—and about learning to read horses from the age of twelve. Terrell was older than that, but he could start now.

“Follow me.” Eric allowed no argument.

Terrell stayed two paces behind him until they reached the tack room. Eric selected a saddle, took it off the sawhorse, and handed it to Terrell.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Terrell gripped each end of it, and his eyes widened in surprise as he tested the heft.

“You’re going to saddle a horse with it in just a few minutes. Then you’re going to climb onto it and plant your backside. Then, you’re going to ride a horse.” He figured stating the obvious would ground the boy in reality.

Terrell looked momentarily nervous. “I don’t know how.”

Eric strode down the line of available horses in the barn. There weren’t many readily on hand, since most were outside. Finally, he came to a sweet ten-year-old gelding. He was very responsive to verbal commands, making him great for use when the rider knew nothing about horses.

Eric led, Ted out of the stall and to Terrell, then loosely tied the reins around a hook. “First, you’ll need to brush him off so he doesn’t get irritated by dirt under the saddle.” He showed Terrell how to take a stiff brush to the horse’s back and under him where the cinch strap would go. Finally, he showed Terrell the saddle, naming each part for him.

After he got the saddle pad placed, he turned his full attention back to Terrell. “Okay, flip the stirrup over the saddle so it isn’t in your way, then lift the saddle onto the horse’s back. You’re tall enough to do it. This pommel should be next to his neck, almost like it’s too high.” Eric pointed to remind him which part of the saddle was the pommel.

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