Page 15

Jules

R iley’s porch is the most peaceful place I’ve ever been.

Even my grandfather’s estate never brought me this sort of peaceful silence.

It’s almost as though, if I were to just continue to sit here, I might be able to find the answers to every question I’ve been seeking.

Maybe, eventually, I could even find myself.

Even as on edge as the man makes me, being here with Riley is as easy as breathing. Though, to be fair, with the pain in my abdomen, even drawing breath is not quite a cakewalk at the moment.

It’s dark outside now, with our only light source coming from the moon above and string lights draped on the patio roof. With the weather as great as it is, we’d chosen to eat outside, and as I stare at my empty plate, I can honestly say that the man can cook. I mean, seriously cook.

Given it’s one of my favorite pastimes as well, I feel rather confident in saying that he might even be better than me. At least with a grill, anyway.

“That was delicious. Thanks again,” I say as he emerges from the kitchen with a fresh glass of sweet tea for me and a mint-colored cosmetic bag. He sets it beside him but doesn’t address the contents.

“You’re welcome. I have dough rising for cinnamon rolls in the morning. If you’re interested.”

“You bake too?”

“As I said, man of many talents,” he replies with a sideways grin.

Oh, boy. Why does the sight of him make my stomach flutter?

Every single minute spent in his presence has me liking him just a bit more. I can admit that I was wrong about him before—to myself, anyway. I have no intention of confessing that to him. Not when I’m already struggling to keep my head around him.

“And speaking of my many talents.” He unzips the bag and withdraws nail polish remover and a bottle of pale blue nail polish. “I’m hoping to add one to the list.”

“What is that?”

“Compliments of my sister. I noticed you had some chips on your paint and thought I’d offer my skills as a pedicurist.”

I can’t help but gape at him. Is he seriously offering to paint my toes? This man who made it clear he thought of me as nothing more than a spoiled red-carpet princess is offering to kneel at my feet?

“You want to paint my toes?”

His cheeks redden just slightly in the pale light. “If you’re up for it. It just seemed like you like having your nails painted, and since you can’t reach them right now with your injury—” He trails off. “If you don’t want me to, no harm done.” He starts to put the stuff away.

“No. That would be great. I just—are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t. And yes, I am sure.” He grins at me then grabs the nail polish and remover, as well as the bag, and takes a seat on the porch at my feet.

“Riley, this is a lot. Really. You don’t have to.” I start to panic slightly. Why is he doing this? What does he expect in return? Nothing is free. Life taught me that.

“Jules, I promise it’s okay. I like trying new things. Since I’ve never actually painted nails before, it might be fun. Besides, it’s not like we have anything else to do tonight, right?”

I swallow hard. “I guess not. Okay. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He grins up at me then takes my bare foot into his hand and rests it on top of his leg. The moment contact is made between us, an unexplainable calm washes over me, easing the anxiety away like a gentle breeze. What is happening to me?

Then, with precision I wouldn’t have expected, he carefully removes the polish on each of my toes before setting my foot aside and doing the same with my other one.

All while I sit here, completely enthralled as I watch him tenderly care for me in a way no one ever has. Not even the paid manicurists ever took such careful care with me. He’s right about me loving to have my nails painted.

They almost always have a shade of some kind on them because it’s something I can control. Choosing a color is easy, and it’s a choice that won’t lead to any consequences. If I don’t like it, I change it. Easy peasy.

“I hope this color is okay. This is apparently Lani’s emergency nail polish bag.” He chuckles. “Who knew that was a thing?” With careful strokes, he applies polish to the toes of my right foot, meticulously inspecting each one and cleaning off any excess with a Q-Tip he pulled from the bag.

“It’s a great color.”

“I thought so too.”

Silence descends around us as he finishes up my right foot then sets it aside and places my left one on his leg.

“When did you start believing in God?” I blurt the question, honestly unsure why I’m asking even as the words leave my lips.

Riley doesn’t look up at me, nor does he miss a movement as he switches and adds polish to a new toe. “I grew up in church,” he replies. “So I don’t know that there was ever really a moment when I didn’t believe.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I feel a bit deflated at his answer. I grew up in church, too, but ever since that night when I was sixteen, I’ve struggled—a lot. Why would that happen to me? Why did I have to suffer?

He finishes my left foot then sets it aside and gently places the lid back on.

He doesn’t get up though. “If I must be honest, though, back then I think I was just going through the motions. I believed in God. I knew that Jesus was sent to save us from our sins, but it never really hit me just how much we need Him. Not until one of our missions went sideways and I nearly died.”

“You nearly died?”

He nods then raises his shirt to show me the bullet hole on his chest. I try not to let my gaze be captivated by the hair-dusted, muscled chest and, instead, focus on the injury he shows me before pulling his shirt back into place.

“My brothers and I were all Spec Ops in the army,” he continues.

“Because we were brothers, they didn’t allow us to serve in the same unit, so we were kind of stationed all over the place.

I ended up getting sent in to deal with a man who was trying to overthrow a small government in an undisclosed location. ”

“Undisclosed as in you can’t talk about it?”

“As in I didn’t even know where I was going,” he replies. “The pilot was the only one who knew, and our team wasn’t allowed to ask questions.”

“You just acted.”

“We did.” He clears his throat then lifts my right foot again and starts adding a second coat.

“When we got there, we discovered that he’d taken hostages.

Women and girls ranging from ages eighteen months up to sixties.

They were his insurance policy, and if he didn’t succeed, he was going to start executing. ”

My stomach plummets. So much evil. How much has he seen?

“My team successfully retrieved all thirty-nine hostages—alive—but as we were getting them out, our target used a passage that wasn’t on any building schematics we were provided and flanked us.

He fired on one of the women—a young mother carrying her baby.

I jumped in front of her and took a shot.

His bullet hit me, and I was unconscious before I even realized I’d managed to take him out too. ”

“You stepped in front of a bullet?” I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Everything about this man screams hero. My thoughts momentarily drift back to the fierce gaze he’d had when he and Romeo burst into that motel room after I was stabbed.

“I did,” he says.

“How did that strengthen your faith? I mean, you walked into such a horrific situation and then nearly died.”

He considers my question, and I can’t tell if he’s just trying to find the right words or deciding how much to share.

“I can’t really explain it, but at the exact moment he fired his weapon, it felt like arms came around me,” he says.

“Like I was being hugged right before that bullet hit me. When I woke up, the doctor told me he wasn’t sure how I survived, but the bullet stopped before it hit my heart. ”

“What do you mean, stopped?”

“It got lodged in the muscle of my chest. He said it was as though something slowed the bullet down so far it couldn’t fully penetrate my body.”

I gape at him. “Are you making this up?”

He laughs. “Nope. Not a single word of it. I even kept the X-rays they took so I can look at them whenever I start feeling overwhelmed. The truth is, in that moment, I realized that there is nothing God can’t handle.

He saved me, and from that moment on, I started treating my life like the gift it is.

Everything I do, I try to bring glory to Him. ”

“I don’t even know where to begin understanding that.”

He starts adding the second coat to my left foot. “I don’t expect you to understand it. That was my truth. I’m sure you have your own. Or, that you will.”

“I’ve felt alone for a long time,” I tell him truthfully. “Even before my grandfather died.”

“Can I ask what’s holding you up with your faith? Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business. I grew up in a household where we shared everything, including questions or comments about our faith.”

I could tell him.

A part of me wants to fully open up and tear down every wall I’ve carefully built, brick by brick. But I can’t stand the thought of him looking at me the way he did when we first met. I meant what I told him—when I open up, people run.

Always.

And that’s even without exposing the darkest of my secrets.

“I just don’t understand how we can be created by a loving God then thrown into a world where we suffer. Look at what happened to my parents, my grandfather? It just doesn’t make sense.” Look at what happened to me, is what I really want to add, but I keep that part locked inside of me.

“I’ve had those same questions. Those same moments where it felt like God was far away.”

“And?”

He takes a deep breath. “‘Here on earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.’ John 16:33.” He smiles softly and applies a topcoat to my toes.

“That was one of my grandfather’s favorite verses.” The words hit me square in my chest, a reminder that he truly believed that, when he died, he was going to a better place. Is he there now? Can he see how miserable I am without him?

Truthfully, I hope he can’t see me. Because then he stands a chance at truly experiencing joy.

“We were never promised peace in this world. And, to be honest, I struggled with that for a while, asking myself the same questions you are now. I wish I had a clear-cut answer for you, but I don’t,” Riley continues.

“What I can tell you is that, after that day, I realized that even though we will suffer, even though we will face trials, we can also be the light for those who haven’t seen anything but darkness. ”

“Is that why you do what you do? With the search and rescue business.” I see it for more than I did at first, understanding now that it’s not ego that drives him to seek out the lost.

He nods. “God placed me in the position I was in so that I could save that woman and her baby. And yeah, that bullet hurt.” He chuckles. “Bad. But He was there with me, arms wrapped around me, shielding me from the death that should’ve taken me that day.”

There are tears in his eyes as he speaks, and it takes one falling down my cheek for me to realize just how hard his words are hitting me.

“One day, there will be peace unlike anything we can ever imagine.” Riley smiles.

“And until the day He calls me away from this life, I will fight to be a light in this dark world. Whether it’s bringing joy to moments where there is none or rescuing innocents from the clutches of evil.

I will fight until the breath leaves my lungs and share His love with everyone I can in hopes they will seek that same peace I found in what should have been the final moments of my life. ”

He places the cap back onto the bottle of topcoat then studies his work, all while I try desperately to find the words to respond.

How do I tell him that, even as resistant as I was at first, as hesitant as I’d been to accept his help mere days ago, I feel more at peace in his presence than I have in a long time?

“I knew I could do it. The video made it look a lot harder than it was.”

“Video?” I ask. “You watched a video?”

“Yeah. I needed to see how to do it.”

I continue staring at him even as he gets to his feet and retakes his seat.

How is this man, who has faced down death and survived, also gentle and caring?

So much so that he’d notice chips in my nail polish and go out of his way to fix them?

And not only that, but he even watched a video tutorial so he wouldn’t mess it up.

All while seemingly asking for nothing in return?

“Do you like them?” he asks.

I tear my gaze away and nod, trying hard to blink away more tears that are threatening to fall. “They look great. I think you have a real fallback career if the heroics don’t pan out.”

He laughs. “Good to know. Now, if you give me your hands, I’ll do those too. This is kind of fun.”