Page 56 of Forged in Secrets

“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to.”

“Gracie, it’s not that, okay?” he said, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Of course I wanted to. It’s not you. I mean it. It’s not.”

“So what is it?” she demanded, growing more frustrated by the second. She stole a glance at the statue. The aged copper Jesus continued to look down on them with his slight, serene smile.

“I just freaked out a bit. I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.”

Grace closed her eyes for two impossibly long seconds, inhaling the smell of salt spray.

He’d hurt her already when he lied to her, but she’d been ready to forget all of that. Now, she was even more confused than she’d been when she woke up this morning.

“I’ve liked you for years, okay?” he said, reaching up and resting his hand gently on her shoulder. “I have, and I was too scared to act on it. Too scared to mess up a good thing, both for us as friends and for the company. But here? Without everyone staring at us and teasing us and wondering? It felt different.”

“So why can’t you just kiss me and stop playing games?” Grace snapped.

“Because it’s not that simple,” Ben said. He was pleading now. “It’s complicated.”

A part of her wanted to act just how she normally would.

She’d tell him everything was okay, she’d be understanding, gentle, sweet. The Grace that everyone knew, who forgave easily and who went through life smiling.

But the truth was, she was so tired of having to be that person all the time. She was exhausted by the all day, every day task of hiding away her fear, doubt, and anxiety deep within her where no one ever even tried to look. And the one person who brought her calm had just rejected her. Again.

“It’s not complicated, Ben,” she said at last, her voice calm. “You’re just a coward.”

His face went even paler than usual, and the hurt in his green eyes was like a knife to her own wounded heart, but she wouldn’t take the words back.

They were cruel, but they were true.

He needed to hear them.

She turned and started to walk along the coast in the opposite direction of their car, casting a final glance at the statue behind her.

The Bible said that a good husband would love his wife like Christ loved the church.

Christ left the ninety-nine and went after the one lost sheep. He didn’t sit around waiting for his bride to chase him. He pursued her, even to death on a cross.

And that was the love she wanted. No matter how broken she was, no matter how little she deserved it, she was done settling for anything less than the standard God had set.

“Come on, stop it,” Ben said after a moment, jogging a few paces until he’d caught up with her. “Don’t just run off. Let me take you back to the hotel, please.”

“You’ll be late picking Asher up. Just go. I’ll meet you guys later.”

She kept walking, picking up her pace. The puppy-dog sadness in his eyes was too much to bear. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d lose her resolve, and they’d end up caught in the same place they’d started. Enough was enough.

“Grace, it’s dangerous to go wandering around here alone,” he called out behind her. “Be reasonable.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, continuing to look straight ahead as several tears began to fall. She wouldn’t let him see her crying over him like this. He may have been acting like a coward, but she was quickly realizing that she was the one who was really pathetic.

She kept walking past row after row of trailers in a generally northern direction. She didn’t know exactly where she was going, but it was a small island, and she was confident she could figure it out.

Her flip-flops thwacked against the cement of the sidewalk, the annoying sound warring with the thoughts swirling through her mind.

Somewhere behind her, the eyes of the Christ of the Fishermen statue seemed to burn into her back, condemning her.

She knew she should pray for guidance instead of wallowing in her frustration, but she couldn’t bring herself to say even a single word to Jesus. Not yet. Maybe after she’d walked a couple of miles.

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