Just Let Go

by Courtney Walsh

  Gus pulled a sheet of folded paper from his inside coat pocket and held it out to Grady.

  “What’s this?”

  “It seems the work you’ve put in around here has been sufficient, son. They’re letting you out of your community service early.”

  “Quinn did this?” Grady stared at the paper in his hand. Sure enough, it said he was free to go.

  Gus nodded. “Judge is hard-nosed behind the bench, but he’s pretty soft when it comes to Quinn. She made a strong case, I guess. Said you’d been instrumental in the success of her opening and the carnival; then she mentioned all of your public appearances and the way you helped train Jaden. He was convinced. You’re not the same man you were when you first got to Harbor Pointe.”

  She was giving him exactly what he’d asked for weeks ago, but not at all what he needed now. She wanted him to leave.

  “Why don’t you look happy?” Gus stared at him.

  Grady tossed the paper on the entryway table and walked into the kitchen, Gus following behind.

  “Isn’t this good? I thought you’d be excited.”

  “Yeah, it’s great, Gus. Thanks for letting me know.”

  The old man stared at him, as if expecting an explanation. How did Grady come clean about any of this with Quinn’s dad? If he wasn’t careful, the family he’d come to care about would run him out of town before he was ready.

  “Do you have any coffee?” Gus slid the tall stool out from under the kitchen counter and sat down.

  “Sir?”

  “If you’re going to unload that heavy burden, I’m going to need some coffee.”

  Grady sighed. “I can’t talk about this with you.”

  Gus raised a brow. “Doesn’t seem like you have anyone better to talk to.”

  He made a good point. Grady found a mug in the cupboard and poured the man a cup of coffee. Gus took a sip, then motioned for Grady to sit. “Let’s hear it.”

  None of the story came easily, but when he got to the part about the ball—about Quinn’s mom—he stopped cold. This woman left not only Quinn; she left Gus, too. She left her husband with two little girls and never came back.

  “Why do I have the feeling you’re chewing on something I’m not gonna like?” Gus asked, both hands around the warm mug.

  “Because I’m chewing on something you’re not gonna like.”

  “Were you inappropriate with my daughter?”

  Grady held up a hand. “No, sir. Nothing like that.”

  Gus eyed him, as if making up his mind whether Grady was telling the truth.

  “I swear.” Grady sighed. “But maybe what I did was worse?”

  Two wide, expectant eyes waited for him to explain.

  Grady rubbed his face, wishing this weren’t a story he had to tell. But it was the truth, and whether he liked it or not, Gus was going to find out eventually. Might as well be from him.

  So he told him. The whole story rolled out so quickly he couldn’t have stopped it if he tried. When he finished, he couldn’t look at the older man. How much more pain would he cause?

  “Wow,” Gus said after too many seconds of silence.

  “I’m sorry, Gus. I didn’t mean to hurt her—or you.”

  The sheriff took a slow sip of his coffee, then slid the empty mug across the counter. “Mind topping me off?”

  Grady frowned.

  “Now it’s my turn.”

  He refilled the mug and handed it to the other man, who stood and walked through the dining area and out onto the back porch. The cottage had a spectacular view of Lake Michigan, and truth be told, Grady had thought more than once that he’d buy the place if he could. It felt like home in a way that nowhere else had.

  It wasn’t logical, of course. A professional skier couldn’t make his home in a small town that lacked a decent slope, but sometimes he entertained the idea anyway.

  Grady grabbed a jacket and followed Gus outside. It was cool, but not frightfully cold like January could be. Still, he wondered how long Quinn’s dad planned to keep him outdoors.

  “You blame yourself for this?” Gus stared out over the water, a slight wind rustling his white hair.

  “I do, sir. I’d like to make it right, but I don’t know how.”

  “This isn’t your fault, Grady. It’s mine.”

  He frowned again. “What do you mean?”

  “Carly told me that Quinn’s been sort of stuck for years. In a holding pattern, she said. I just thought cautious was her way, but Carly seems to think she’s waiting around for Jacie to come back.”

  “You never asked her about it?”

  Gus pressed his lips together, still staring out at the water. “I should’ve, but no. I didn’t have the courage.”

  Grady leaned against the railing, facing Quinn’s dad.

  “Quinn’s mom didn’t just leave one day. I asked her to go.” His eyes fell to the ground just below the porch. “I think Quinn only remembers the good about her mom. None of the bad. None of what she put us through. She’s got her up on a pedestal, and I let her keep her there.”

  Grady watched Gus, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he spoke.

  “Jacie was troubled. She drank too much. Usually she kept it hidden from the girls—heck, the whole town. I mean, everyone loved her. But I always knew. I begged her to get help. I researched hospitals and treatment centers, but she refused. She’d disappear for days at a time, and we always had to cover for her. Mimi was working at the flower shop then, and that’s when she stepped up and learned the business. She came to me after Jacie left, wanting to buy the place. Of course I agreed—what was I going to do with a flower shop?” Gus paused for a long few seconds, his eyes glassy.

  “One night I was working late, and I always checked on home when I had to work late. I didn’t trust her. It’s an awful feeling not to be able to trust your spouse. You tuck that one away for the future, okay?”

  Grady nodded. “I got it, sir.”

  “It was just after eleven o’clock, and I drove by with my partner. Told him I wanted to grab something from home, but when I went inside, I smelled that foul odor of natural gas.” Gus’s eyes glazed over, the memory seeming to transport him back through time. “Jacie was passed out on the couch, but the gas stove was still on. The flame was out, so the gas was just leaking into the house. The girls were asleep upstairs. They could’ve all gotten sick—or worse, died of carbon monoxide poisoning. I still say it was the nudge of the Holy Spirit that led me there.”

  Gus leaned down, elbows on the railing, hands wrapped around the warm mug. “That night I told her she had to make a choice. She could go to the treatment center or she could leave for good.”

  Grady could see the weight of this decision, heavy and unwavering. “She chose to leave.”

  “Jacie was a proud woman. But I always thought she’d come back.” Gus looked away. “I got divorce papers six months later and found out she was pregnant with some other guy’s kid. So, in a lot of ways, she was right—the girls were better off. But in some ways, they weren’t. They never had a mother, and that’s my fault.”

  Grady wasn’t used to playing the role of comforter, and he wasn’t sure what to say to ease the man’s guilt or pain. He didn’t have wisdom beyond his years, and his life had been one poor decision after another. “You did what you thought was best for your daughters.”

  Gus steeled his gaze out on the cherry-red lighthouse in the distance. “But maybe it was the wrong choice.”

  “No sense living there, though, right? What’s done is done. We only have what’s in front of us now.”

  Maybe those were words he was supposed to absorb for himself. After all, he’d also been living with the heavy weight of past regret—and he, like Gus, couldn’t find a way out from under it.

  “Listen, I know Quinn is upset, but she’ll come around,” Gus said. “And you can’t tell her about this.”

  Grady straightened. “We have to tell her, Gus. She deserves to know.”

&n
bsp; He shook his head. “It’ll crush her. She’ll lose her faith in the only parent she has left, and it won’t change anything between the two of you. Only time will do that.”

  Grady looked away. “You can’t ask me to keep anything else from her.”

  “It’s still what’s best for her, son.”

  Then why did it feel so wrong?

  “So what am I supposed to do? She won’t even speak to me.”

  “You go win your race and forget about this place for a while. And then you reach out to her once your mind is clear of everything else.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.” In fact, he was pretty sure he couldn’t. “I want to make things right with her, Gus. She means everything to me.”

  “I know my daughter. What she needs right now is time and a little perspective.”

  “What she needs right now is the truth.”

  Gus gave a dismissive wave, handed the mug back to Grady, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be pulling for you at your race. Nothing we’d all like more than to see one of our own at the Olympics.”

  “Appreciate it, sir.” And he did. Grady hadn’t been one of anyone’s own for as long as he could remember. Still, an uneasiness had worked its way into his belly.

  “I’ll show myself out.”

  The wind whipped through the bare trees, sending a chill straight through Grady’s jacket and worn gray hoodie. Nothing about Gus’s confession made him feel any better. If anything, he felt worse. How could he hold on to a secret like that?

  But maybe Gus was right. Maybe time would help her heal, make her see he hadn’t intended to hurt her.

  Or maybe it would put just enough distance between them to make him forget he ever loved her in the first place.

  CHAPTER

  35

  QUINN WASN’T SURE WHAT WAS WORSE—knowing Grady was gone or knowing she was the reason why.

  She’d struggled to get through the days following his departure from Harbor Pointe, aware that her conversation with Judge sent a message: I want you to leave. At the time it had seemed like the wise thing to do, but now, in the aftermath of it all, she wondered if it had hurt him. And causing him pain had never been her goal.

  She walked through her days zombielike and detached, going through the motions and wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake.

  In the evenings, she watched the sports channel, hoping for a glimpse of the man who had stolen her heart. Just a clue as to how he was doing. After several days, with only one more week before the big race, one of the reporters granted her request. The woman was spunky and fit. Probably a former athlete and the kind of woman who would make a much more suitable match for Grady.

  Quinn watched as the image of the man she’d once held in her arms flashed across the screen. She knew literally nothing about skiing, but from what she could tell, he was flying down those slopes.

  “The real surprise out here in Colorado is Grady Benson,” the reporter said. “This is a man the skiing world had practically written off, but what we’re seeing is a new and improved version of the skier we all know and love. What’s more, his constant work and the time he’s put into his training have garnered the attention of the Olympic coaches, who had this to say about America’s favorite rebel skier.”

  The shot cut away to a man with a rugged, tan face and shining eyes. The name Brian Murphy appeared at the bottom of the screen. “Grady’s been a surprise, that’s for sure. We didn’t expect to see half of what he’s showing us.”

  The reporter pulled the microphone back. “Now, in the past, you’ve commented on Benson’s rebellious attitude. Has that been a problem since he arrived here in Colorado?”

  The coach laughed. “You know Grady and I have had our differences, but the first thing he said when he rolled back into town was ‘I’m here to work, Coach.’ And he’s proven that to be true. He’s made some vast improvements to his form, and yes, he’s finally listening to me.” Another laugh. “I’d say Grady Benson is a changed man. I’m hopeful we’re gonna see him on our team this year.”

  Quinn’s eyes had gone cloudy as the camera cut away to more footage of him skiing. He was doing well. The clean break from Harbor Pointe—from her—it was what he needed.

  Never mind what it had done to her heart.

  She was a mess. She’d come home from work, put on her pajamas, and eaten leftover frozen pizza standing up in the kitchen. Now, with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, the only thing she wanted to do was crawl into bed and wish away the last month.

  If she’d never met him in the first place, she’d be fine right now.

  And yet, she couldn’t imagine her world if she’d never met him. He made her want to live outside the box she’d put herself in.

  Nobody else had ever done that for her before.

  The knock on the door elicited a groan. This would be some well-meaning person who loved her, determined to get her out of bed and out of her misery. But she was quite comfortable wearing her misery like a cloak. It was all she wanted to do.

  Another knock. “Okay, I’m coming.” She hoped her groan was audible. She reached the door and pulled it open. “Dad.”

  He wore a stony expression. “You have a minute?”

  “Of course.” While she and her dad were close, he didn’t make a habit of stopping over. If anything, he usually called and asked her to come by the house. “Is something wrong? Is everyone okay—Judge? Beverly? Calvin?”

  He held up a hand. “Everyone’s fine, hon.” He gave her a once-over. “Everyone except maybe you?”

  She plopped down on the sofa. “I’m fine, Dad. Did Carly send you over here?”

  “No, but she did tell me you haven’t been over to see Jaden at all this week.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Dad nodded, then sat gingerly on the edge of her armchair. “You don’t look so hot, Q.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “And your apartment is a mess.”

  “Did you just come here to insult me?” She pulled an afghan over her lap.

  “I came to check on you.” He scooted back in the chair and glanced up at the muted television. “How’s he doing?”

  “Who?”

  “Quinn, please.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t keep tabs on him.”

  His expression told her he wasn’t buying it. “You make a habit of watching SportsCenter?”

  She picked up the remote and clicked the television off.

  “He told me what happened, you know.”

  She flicked her thumbnail against the edge of the remote, avoiding his eyes. “He did?”

  Dad folded his hands in his lap. “Are you ever going to forgive him?”

  “He lied, Dad.” The cloud of tears was back, and she blinked three times in quick succession, willing them not to betray her.

  “But he did it because he thought the truth would hurt too much.”

  “A lie is a lie.” She pulled the afghan more tightly around her.

  “Quinn, honey.” His face whitened. “There’s something you need to know.”

  He was back. Top of his game. Determined to put the past behind him and move on. That meant forcing thoughts of Harbor Pointe and a certain pretty florist out of his mind.

  He’d walked into the first day of training just as Matthew Phillips finished an impressive run. The cameras started flashing, and Grady realized they weren’t only getting shots of Matthew, wearing the Bowman name, but also of Grady’s reaction to the younger skier. In the past, he might’ve given the press exactly the kind of sound bite they craved. Today, with a knowing glance at Brian and the rest of the coaching staff, he chose a different approach.

  Matthew came to a stop a few yards in front of him, and Grady walked straight over to him under many watchful eyes. He wore the Spectre logo, having worked out a decent deal with the up-and-coming company, and he reminded himself to keep his ego in check. He heard the camera shutters snapping as he approached.
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  Matthew removed his goggles. “Grady.” He looked unsure, as if he’d done something wrong and was about to be called out on it.

  “Looking forward to getting up there with you,” Grady said.

  “Yeah?” The younger man did nothing to hide his surprise.

  “Yeah. Just got into town. I’ve got some work to do before next weekend. Hoping not to spend all my time eating your dust.”

  Matthew’s laugh was uncertain.

  Grady extended a hand in Matthew’s direction. After all, the guy’s only crime was being good at what he loved. And on the drive out here, Grady had determined not to hold that against him. Instead, he’d use it to spur himself on. If he was smart, it would make him better.

  Matthew shook Grady’s hand and more flashes went off.

  “I gotta get out there,” Grady said. “Here’s hoping these old bones can keep up.”

  Before he let go, Matthew pulled him closer. “I’m rooting for you, man.”

  “Appreciate it,” Grady said.

  The drive got him thinking about more than just Matthew Phillips. He’d tossed around the footage of previous races, the missteps, the mistakes. He’d thought through the advice Brian and his other coaches had given him in recent months. He’d decided he could either tell them he’d changed or he could show them—and he knew which one of those would carry the most weight.

  He’d also spent a lot of time looking back on Harbor Pointe and Jaden and Quinn. He wanted to make them proud—to give them a reason to cheer for him.

  And he supposed that idea led him to thoughts of the peace he’d begun to make with a God he’d all but turned his back on. Was it possible he’d been there all along, somewhere in the middle of this messy, messy world?

  Sometimes it shamed him to remember the way he’d squandered the good things God had put in his life. He’d mistakenly convinced himself he deserved those things, when he knew now with absolute certainty he did not. He didn’t want to waste a single moment ever again.

  In the quiet darkness of the car, he’d prayed—asked God to help him get his life right for the right reasons.

  Make me new.