Page 84 of Bravo

Aside from when I was a child, I don’t know that I’ve ever known a time of peace. Though I’ve never actively sought violence, I am not a man built for peaceful times. My desire to defend the innocent is too strong.

In those rare moments when I’m sitting still, all I can think about is the people I’m not helping. My thoughts remain on those suffering.

I glance over at Kennedy. Iknowthat God brought us together for a reason. That He wants me to help her. I can feel it down to my very soul. And even as we don’t know each other well, I know that, if anything were to happen to her, I’d be changed forever.

I’d be less.

God, help me, please. What am I doing here? How do I help her? Guide me, Lord, I can’t do this alone. Please be with me. Guide me so that I am doing Your will and not my own. I ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Kennedy stirs and stretches out just enough that her toes brush against my thigh. I long to take them into my lap and let her stretch out completely so that she might find better rest.

But I’m afraid that every move I make in that direction will only lead to disaster. She’s spent the last two years of her life on the run, and this ranch will only serve as a reminder of that.

So what if she doesn’t want to stay when this is all over?

Kennedy’s eyes flutter open, and she stares at me for just a moment before smiling, her eyes still full of sleep. “Sorry, I crashed.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

She sits up. “At least, you got a shower.”

I grin. “Did I stink that bad?”

“No, but it felt good, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“Your mom made me take one when we got back. She told me it would make me feel so much better, and even though I had my doubts, given everything, I have to say she was right.”

“She usually is.”

Kennedy stretches her arms up, and I have to force my gaze away from her. Desire hums through my veins. Every moment I spend in her presence, I find myself falling harder. Every single second I’m near her leads me deeper down the rabbit hole. And what’s even more terrifying is that I don’t want to make my way back out.

“Bible study?” she asks.

“Ecclesiastes,” I tell her.

“Everything is meaningless. Like chasing the wind.”

I arch a brow, surprised that she can quote even a bit of the Bible with the lack of faith she’s been upfront about.

“It was my mom’s favorite. That and Job. She loved them because they showed just how important it is to appreciate what we have. She also loved Psalm 46.”

“Your mom had good taste.”

“She did.” She looks over at my arm then at my face. “You’re in a T-shirt.”

“I am.”

“I’ve never seen you in a T-shirt before today.”

“That’s because I’m usually outside where it’s too cold for one,” I reply with a laugh.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

I glance down at the sleeve I had done over the course of a year. I’d just gotten back from my first deployment and wanted to feel in control, if only for something like this. So I went and got inked.

“It looks good,” she says with a smile. “Did it hurt? I’ve always heard they hurt.”

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