He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He wasn’t really hungry. He was just restless. It wasn’t only his concerns over Jess’s safety. It was the sense of being unsettled, of having tough decisions hanging over him with no good outcomes.
After staring inside the fridge for a good half minute, he finally removed an apple and sank his teeth into its juicy sweetness.
How could he have done it? After all he’d been through, everything he’d learned, he’d fallen for Jess. Maybe once this was over, he’d have the fortitude to stick with his vow and walk away.
The problem was, his heart had stopped listening to logic. Jess had managed to weave her way right past all his defenses, and that wasn’t a good thing. Those walls he’d erected were there for a reason. They protected not only himself, but everyone around him. And he would keep reminding himself of that, no matter how much he yearned for a future that included Jess.
He tossed the apple core into the trash and leaned against the wall. A single lamp burned in the living area, on the table next to the couch. After one more glance through the front window, he picked up the worn leather Bible from the coffee table, turned off the light and trudged to his bedroom. He’d get ready for bed and read for a while. Then maybe sleep would come fast and be blessedly dreamless.
Before climbing into bed ten minutes later, he stacked the four pillows against the headboard. Then he took his Bible from where he’d laid it on his nightstand and placed it in his lap. Time and again, he’d found comfort within those pages.
Jess insisted he was angry at God. She was wrong. He wasn’t harboring anger toward God. He would never understand why things had happened the way they had, but he wasn’t angry. Just the opposite. The tougher things got, the more he depended on God.
He let the Bible fall open three-fourths of the way to the end. Yellow highlighter drew his thoughts to the final verses of Matthew 11.
Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.
It was one of his favorite passages. He’d come back to it again and again over the years. And he was back tonight, seeking rest for his soul.
He drew in a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the peace of God to wash over him. Instead, an image intruded—arched brows, full lips, dark hair framing her beautiful face.
God, help me to forget about her.
But what if that wasn’t what God wanted? What if God wanted to use him to bring her healing? And what if God wanted to use her to bring him healing? Was he ready?
The resulting flash of insight provided the answer. No, he wasn’t ready. Three long years later, he was still burying the pain deep inside where nothing could touch it.
He wasn’t angry with God, but he hadn’t accepted the healing Christ offered, either. Instead, he had triple-wrapped his heart and boxed it up, unwilling to risk that kind of pain again. It was easy to tell himself he was doing it for those he cared about. But in the stark truth of God’s Word and Jess’s accusations, he couldn’t deny it. Everything he’d done during the past three years had been as much to insulate against his own pain as it had been to protect others.
He swung his feet over the side of the bed, rose and started to pace. He didn’t know where to begin. Guarding his heart had become a way of life. God, help me to let go. I’m ready to receive your healing. And if Jess is the one you’ve chosen for me, please make it work out.
His breath hitched, and his pulse picked up speed. The urge to see her at that moment was overwhelming. He stopped pacing and drew in a deep breath. “Pull yourself together, Shane.” It was late. He couldn’t march over there and bang on her door at almost midnight.
He picked up the Bible from the bed and returned it to the nightstand, but he was nowhere near ready for sleep. Instead, he resumed pacing the small apartment. Tomorrow morning, he would talk to her. He had no idea what he would say, but he had to tell her how he felt. She had touched him in the deepest way, and he couldn’t imagine walking out of her life. She was light to his darkness—no matter what happened, she refused to let circumstances get her down and charged ahead with determination and enthusiasm.
He stopped in front of the living room window. A hundred yards of night separated her from him, but as he lifted his hand to the glass, he somehow felt closer to her. Then his gaze fell on her driveway, and panic stabbed through him.
The Bug was gone.
Anger entwined with the anxiety spiraling through him. How was he supposed to protect her when she wasn’t doing anything to protect herself? What was she thinking, venturing out in the middle of the night?
Maybe she got another call luring her away, threatening harm to someone if she didn’t follow instructions precisely. If so, she was supposed to get a hold of him.
He threw on his jeans then flew down the steps, taking them two at a time. The last time, the orders were to come to the park, so that was where
