Page 101 of Free to Judge
“Baby bro’s been busy,” Peter says, impressed. “If that’s the case, there’s little chance of him tracking us before we get home.”
Two words stand out beyond the mumbo jumbo he continues to prattle on about the kind of technology—home and him. Right now, both cause a rolling in different parts of my body—one in my head, the other in my heart. But because the “him” means the man who splintered my trust. The one man I let in.
Declan.
The last few weeks have allowed me to sort out my thoughts. I will always support what he was doing while undercover, despite becoming an inadvertent target. I don’t despise him for that. No, the scars my heart bears stem from what he did to me personally—taking chunks from my heart and not cherishing it.
He didn’t need to hurt me to get the job done, but by doing so, my heart hasn’t healed from the devastating injury it sustained. Right now, I’m not certain it ever will be.
After two long weeks of considering everything that happened between us, I’m no more certain of what role Declan plays in my future than when I headed west to escape the twisted agony of knowing he was a few miles away. I’m still left with the burning question of what is better—being alive in his arms and sacrificing my soul or walking away knowing I love him.
Even now, on my way home, I can’t answer that question despite his umpteen number of text messages begging, pleading with me to listen. To explain.
The part of me that gave my heart to him wonders,Could there be an explanation?The part of me that developed from roots of strength and courage silences her.
Often.
Understanding I’m still barely clutching onto the remaining threads of my soul, Uncle Jared plops down in the seat across from me to distract me with updates for Brave Steps Forward. Half listening, I think back to the clear air I inhaled as I ran for miles training in Banff, hoping and praying it would give me insight into my situation.
Every step I ran left me questioning every moment of our “relationship”—if it could be called that. I’m now stripped to the bone with more questions than answers. Why did he do this to me? How could he?
Peter reaches over and presses his hand against mine in silent support, giving me more strength to do what I know to be what I need right now—head home. The time I took to center myself again was necessary, but it’s time to return to reality.
As the jet speeds up down the runway, I revisit the way my life has changed course over the last few months. How Declan changed the way I looked at myself, at him, so much. I not only accepted his reasons for rolling around in filth. I supported his reasons for vengeance. None of that shook my belief in who he was; in fact, it strengthened my resolve in the man beneath the public persona he had to wear. Declan appeared to appreciate the same sacred vow I did—family first.
I let him in and he imprinted himself indelibly into my pores, my heart, my very soul.
What soul there is left, I think in disgust.
There’s just a flaw in my logic.Tragically, it’s a catastrophic one.
Declan would have had to have considered my feelings the way I did his to not have hurt me the way he did that night.
As the jet hurls our small consortium from one coast to another, I stop trying to rationalize the damage that’s already been caused. Over the last few weeks, I resolved my guilt about getting away—placing thousands of miles between us. Especially once I received his text telling me it was probably for the best.
But time and distance haven’t mattered, so it’s time to return home. Pain just follows you. If time and distance won’t give my heart the break it so desperately needs to form a detachment from the man I fell too easily in love with, then it’s time to stop shirking my responsibilities.
Still, my time away gave me one gift. It gave me a chance to develop an armor so when I inevitably run into him, I can function. By getting off the grid, it gave us a clean break. Let him return to working for my family while I…well, I’ll do what I’ve been passionate about before—races, cases.
Declan thinks he knows who I am, but I’m stronger than even he has witnessed.
Still, in the part of me that hasn’t quite scabbed over, it hurts to know I fell in love with a man who doesn’t love me back. Tears leak from my eyes as I stare blindly into the sun as we reach cruising altitude. All that matters is that it’s over.
A discreet flight attendant comes by to ask if I need anything. I shake my head wordlessly. What could she bring me, anyway? Unless my uncles somehow managed to figure out a way to replace emotions, I don’t need anything. I don’t want anything.
Right now, I’m not certain I ever will again.
Desperate for something to do, I tug the tablet toward me and pull up a national news site. A bitter laugh erupts when the lead headline shows the latest speaker at the Brookings Institute isthe former Director of the National Counterterrorism Center—the same woman who spoke at my law school graduation.
The first place I laid eyes on Declan.
I don’t know what it was about him that struck me so hard he never quite left my subconscious. What I do know is I have to do everything possible to erase him now so my heart can heal from the blow he just dealt it.
The plane bumps through some turbulence, but my stomach doesn’t feel the funny twist it normally would. How can it when my heart has stopped beating inside my chest? I touch my fingers to the side of my neck to make sure I haven’t slipped into some sort of catatonic stasis. Nope. There it is. Proof of life that I’m still alive.
Too bad I just don’t feel it.
The repetitive thud of my pulse mocks me, reminding me I still have to endure the memory of what I saw for days? Weeks? Years? I’m not certain how long it takes for a heart to heal from a betrayal this strong, to be honest.
