Page 45 of Gideon's Gratitude

When he’d trolled through the personal hygiene aisles last night, he’d selected practical items. Nothing fancy. Nothing like what I would’ve pegged.

More stuff that resembled my own. And, while I was obsessing over the topic—watching another man buy shaving cream and deodorant was oddly intimate.

I don’t want to be intimately acquainted with the guy. The man who resembled my ex in so many ways—not so much with coloring, but definitely physically. The man who was a divorce lawyer. The man who seemed as lonely as I was. When Archer had steadied me last night, I’d have sworn something passed between the two of us. An understanding. A spark. Just…something.

Now, in the gray light of day, that notion felt fanciful. Of course it’d been in my mind. I had nothing to offer a man like Archer. Nothing. At all. Zilch. Zip.

After I trudged upstairs, I glanced at the two closed doors and cringed. The rooms were made up for the kids. Kids who’d never come. And in return, I didn’t have an adult bed to offer Archer.

Who likely wouldn’t take it anyway, but it would’ve been nice to be able to make the offer. Pivoting back to my bedroom, I hesitated again. No, life had to be faced. I moved into the room and scooped up the laundry from the floor.

White-hot pain shot through my spine.

God damn it.

Hadn’t been paying attention. Had twisted the wrong way. Had breathed the wrong way. Using my hand to guide me, I eased myself onto the bed. I attempted meditation. Deep breathing. Cursing.Anything to make the pain recede. Asking it to go away was impossible, but maybe a reprieve before I got on the video call?

No such luck.

I eyed the clock radio.

Twelve minutes.

Putting on jeans was out of the question, given the twisting and turning required, so I pulled on track pants. I was able to yank my sleep shirt over my head and slip into a button-down.

It took phenomenal effort, but I managed.

Even remembered deodorant.

Each step down the multiple staircases leading to the basement was torture. I opted to keep the computer equipment out of the way because I didn’t want to be tempted by it the rest of the time. Too easy to go down rabbit holes. To do searches on my ex. To scroll through photos of the kids.

I had two scrapbook albums I’d created. Those were tucked away inside the closet in my room. I hadn’t yet found the courage to look at them. Too painful.

The machine booted up, and I logged into the group with five seconds to spare.

An hour later I was exhausted. Nobody had been in a good mood, and that negativity seeped into my bones. These men meant everything to me, but they also frustrated me. As I likely did them. We were all stuck. Nowhere to turn. No one left to beg to help. We’d exhausted all options and were left with nothing but bitterness and resentment—both toward our exes as well as the authorities who let the estrangements carry on.

I’d shared nothing about the last thirty-six hours. Hell, I could barely put it into words myself. As I rose, I stretched gingerly. Last night’s journey off the mountain hadn’t eased the discomfort,although it hadn’t increased it either. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with Sarabeth. Of course her feet ached at the end of a long shift. And of course it was none of my business. But I’d met people at the pain clinic who’d ignored pain, and for whom it was too late—the damage was done.

Lucky’s howling brought me to attention. I cursed all the stairs between me and the front door, but I hustled as much as I dared. Every step shot pain through me.

Not a good day.

As I reached the top of the stairs, Lucky bounded over, practically nudging me to move forward.

“Okay, all right. Hold on.”

I unlocked and then opened the front door, dismayed to see a figure retreating between the property lines.

“Hey.” Not as loud as I hoped, but apparently loud enough since Archer pivoted.

“I’m so sorry.” He strode across the front lawn. “I’m certain I’ve disturbed you, and I should have called—”

“You’re here now.” And I was irrationally happy about it. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be greatly appreciated.” He stepped into the space. His presence loomed even larger than it had previously. Possibly owing to the gray ski jacket that matched his eyes, the tight-fitting jeans that hugged his butt, and the brilliant smile he wore.

He takes my breath away.

---