Frailty of Things

by Schultz, Tamsen

  “You know, don’t you?” Kit asked. “When you’ve reached a point where maybe there will be no returning if you keep going?”

  Garret met her eyes and nodded.

  “But not everyone is like that, are they?”

  He shook his head. Then he seemed to hesitate about something before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

  “Tell me,” Kit pressed again.

  He was silent for so long that Kit wondered if he would answer her, but then she watched how his eyes focused on his mug and she could see thoughts—anxiety, stress, pain, and a myriad of other emotions—flashing in his eyes. She knew a thing or two about needing to sort through emotions before speaking, so she let him be.

  A full five minutes later he spoke. “I’ve worked with guys who haven’t been able to tell where that line is and it’s, well, it’s not easy. Don’t get me wrong, almost nothing about what we do is easy, but when we’re working together, we need to trust each other to a certain extent. Caleb and I trust each other implicitly, but the others we work with, when we work with them, have to earn our trust before we go into dangerous situations.

  “And sometimes they fool us. When they do, it can get ugly. I mean, I don’t think…” He paused. “I don’t think they turn into sociopaths in the true sense of the word, but some of the people we work with, some of the people who do the work I’ve done, have seen so much and been a part of so many things, that in some ways, the lines start to get blurry.”

  “Like when undercover cops begin to sympathize with the people they’re investigating?” Kit asked. Garret looked up in surprise. Kit gave him a soft smile. “My first book had a character who was a recovering undercover cop, remember?”

  Garret nodded.

  “Not many people know this, but I based him on a man I met when I was living in Italy. He was Italian but had been undercover investigating the Russian mafia for eight years—from the time he was twenty. It didn’t end well for him. When I met him, he was homeless and living on the streets of Rome. I’d buy him coffee and some food, and we’d sit in a park and talk. Even after being out for ten years, his eight years undercover still confused him. He didn’t understand how he’d gone from the boy of his youth to the man who’d done some of the things he’d done or allowed some of the things he’d allowed.”

  Garret was watching her as she spoke. She remembered the man she’d found by chance, a man who’d had such a profound impact on her writing, but also on how she viewed the actions of people who lived through situations she didn’t understand. In some ways, talking to him had helped her to heal herself, had helped her to better understand what she thought of herself and her role, knowing or unknowing, in her father’s life and business.

  “Then you know,” Garret said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

  “I know what I experienced. Tell me more,” she said with an answering squeeze of his hand.

  “Not everyone is strong enough to stay grounded, to stay true to who they are, when they live in those kinds of worlds day in and day out for years. Some people fall to the wayside and leave, some people switch sides, and some people, the most dangerous of all, try to play all sides.”

  Garret paused again as he rubbed his thumb across her palm. “I saw a lot of good people struggle to make it in our line of business. And I saw the destruction and pain they left in their wake. I don’t know what made me realize it or what made me stick to the promise I made to myself early on when I vowed to do everything in my power not to become a casualty of one of those secret wars. I think I figured that if I was going to self-destruct, there were easier ways to do it.”

  “And so you promised yourself you’d do everything you could to stay true to yourself. To stay human. And that’s why you have the beach and the orphanages and probably some other things you haven’t told me about yet,” Kit finished for him.

  Garret let out a long breath, looked up, and nodded. “And that’s a very long answer to the question of how I knew Drew would have stuff to make hot chocolate,” he said with a smile.

  Kit let out a small laugh. “It’s the comforts, right? That would be my guess. You have your creature comforts at your place in Mexico, and you assumed Drew would have his here?”

  Garret nodded again.

  Strangely enough, Kit followed this logic as she took her last sip of the rich brew. Then she frowned. “I will say, though, that had I tried to think of creature comforts for Drew, I’m not sure hot chocolate would have come to mind. Champagne maybe. Or caviar.”

  Garret chuckled and pulled her to her feet as he took her empty mug. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he deposited their mugs in the sink. “Drew may like all those things, but deep down he’s a family man. The way he cares about the people he works with makes that clear. My guess is that he might have been raised with a silver spoon, but I bet that silver spoon was used to stir hot chocolate more often than it was used to eat pâté.”

  Kit had to laugh at that and as Garret stepped closer to her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. “You’re an amazing man, you know,” she murmured against his lips.

  “I could argue with you,” he said, backing her toward the stairs. “But I think that would be counterproductive. If I recall, you offered to show me just how amazing you think I am.”

  She smiled, then gave him the kind of kiss that brought out just the reaction in him she was hoping for. “So I did,” she said.

  A few hours later, they lay in the dark looking out the large bedroom window onto the clear night. The moon now hung high in the sky, casting so much light the stars were nearly invisible.

  Kit smiled as she lay against Garret’s bare chest.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, gently stroking her hair.

  “You know you don’t eat pâté with a spoon, right?”

  CHAPTER 18

  TO SAY THEY FELL into a routine over the next several days would be a great misnomer. They had made one trip to the local grocer and they usually went for a couple of walks a day, but about the only thing that happened on a predictable schedule were the morning and evening trips Garret made to the small barn to get more firewood. That was okay by him. As he sat in his office, maps of New York City spread out in front of him, he wondered when in his life, if ever, he’d had such unstructured time. Of course, he wasn’t diminishing the fact that Kašović was still out there, and in his heart of hearts, he knew that if there wasn’t some sign of the man soon, they’d have to provoke him, but in the meantime, he was rather enjoying himself.

  Which was just a little bit wrong.

  “What are you thinking?” Kit asked from the doorway of the room he’d taken as his office.

  Garret chuckled. “That I’m a little sick and maybe a touch twisted to be enjoying it here so much.”

  He was graced with a wide smile from the woman who he’d known for a while was going to be his future, but was only now starting to understand what that meant. Every day that they were together, they learned more about each other—their likes and dislikes, their quirks. Again, he knew their environment was contrived, but he also knew that that fact stopped neither him nor Kit from being very real.

  “How about enjoying some lunch?” she asked. “I made soup.”

  With a last look at the maps, he rose and joined her. It had snowed overnight, giving them an excuse not to go into town, so the soup was a bit of a kitchen-sink concoction, but one other thing Garret had learned was that Kit could cook. She didn’t cook fussy food, but she had a knack for everything comfort. Or at least that’s how it seemed to Garret.

  They were halfway through their meal when the call that Garret had known would eventually come finally came. He excused himself and stepped away from the table.

  When he returned, Kit gave him an expectant look. Resting his hands on the back of one of the dining chairs, Garret let out a deep breath. He didn’t like what he’d just heard, what he’d just agreed to, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t expe
cted it.

  “That was Drew,” he started.

  Kit took a sip of her tea and nodded.

  “He wants to schedule a book signing for you in Burlington and to make a big deal of it.”

  Again, Kit nodded.

  “You know what this means, right?” he pressed.

  Kit set her tea down but left her hands wrapped around the mug. She looked calm, contemplative, but he could tell from her grip that she was anything but. “Yes, I know what the signing means,” she said. “It will, hopefully, draw Kašović out so we can end this thing.” Her voice was calm and sure. Too calm, too sure.

  Garret took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. “This was your idea, wasn’t it? You talked to Drew?” he asked, a pit gnawing its way through his stomach.

  Slowly, she inclined her head.

  He locked his jaw to keep from yelling in frustration. Yes, he was upset that she and Drew had worked up this scheme without him, but what caused him even more irritation was the fact that the reality of their situation had just come crashing back down on him and the whole thing, truth be told, terrified him.

  He turned toward the wood stove and knelt to add some firewood, just to give himself something to do.

  “You’re angry,” Kit said, her voice soft behind him. She hadn’t moved, and for that he was grateful.

  After a long moment of silence, during which he shoved a few logs into the burning stove, he let out a deep breath and answered. “At the situation, Kit,” he said, watching the fire dance around the logs, their orange and blue flames licking the new wood as if testing its suitability.

  “I am too, Garret. That’s why I suggested the book signing to Drew. I want—no, I need this to end.”

  And then he heard it. He heard all the stress in her voice, all the fear and anxiety that he’d recognized and dismissed as they’d been holed up in their cozy little cabin for the past five days. He couldn’t ignore it now, he couldn’t dismiss it and turn their attention to more interesting and diverting pursuits the way he’d been doing. He couldn’t try to make this better for her by forcing it under the rug.

  He let out a rueful laugh.

  “Garret?” she asked. He hated the tentativeness in her voice.

  Rising, he walked toward her, then pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her. She gave him a wary look, but he just pulled her in tight and laid his cheek against her hair.

  “I’m not going to lie and say it’s fine, Kit, because we both know that nothing about this situation is fine. But you’re right, we need it to be over.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it,” she said, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. As her golden ones searched his, a wave of love mixed with terror washed over him, leaving him nearly shaking with its power.

  Leaning his forehead against hers, he spoke. “I want this to be over, Kit. I want us to be together in a way we want to, not in a way we have to. I want to see you laugh freely. I want to get to know your friends. I want to argue over the dishes and the trash, and maybe even get a dog we can take on long walks with us.”

  “But?”

  He shook his head against hers. “But nothing. I laughed because you’re right. Here I am, the man who has done this kind of work for over a decade, and I’m happily shoving the danger under the rug because in the past few days, I’ve been living a life I never thought I would. And there you are...” His voice trailed off.

  “And here I am?”

  He nodded. “Strong, clear headed, and wanting to move forward. You did what I should have been doing. You’re the tough one here, Kit. Tougher than me, I think. Don’t ever forget that.”

  She smiled at that—a small, hinting smile. “I’m not that tough, Garret.” Her smile faded. “I’m scared half to death, actually. But I want this over with for all the same reasons you do. Well, maybe not so we can argue over who takes the trash out because you’ll be doing that, but so that we can go home. So that you can get to know my friends, so we can go into town for lunch or dinner, so we can maybe get a dog and take it for long walks whenever we want to.”

  She paused, then ran her fingers through his hair, forcing his head back enough so that they could get a better look at each other. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry you’ve never lived the kind of life we’ve had these past few days. Who you are now, the man I love now, is a mix of everything you’ve done, everything you’ve seen, and everything you’ve thought and felt in the past. Your past and how you’ve lived it, how you’ve understood it, has made you understand what you want for your future. And I know you want me and a life with me. And that is something I’m not ever going to regret or belittle or forget. And that life is something I want to start sooner rather than later.”

  For a long moment, he stood and simply looked at her—at this amazing woman he now had as the center of his life—and let her words sink in. She was right. They both knew too well how frail life could be and how sometimes fighting for it came at a cost—a cost that could not, or should not, be underestimated.

  Their pasts, the good and the bad, helped make them who they were standing there in that kitchen. Their pasts, and what they wanted for their futures, made them stronger together. And he knew it would always be like this—he had found someone who didn’t need him to be strong all the time. He had found someone who was as strong and tough and determined as he was. Someone he could trust to share that burden. Because being that way, tough and strong, was a burden sometimes; it was a burden for anyone to carry some of the time and almost impossible for someone to carry all of the time. And in each other, he knew that they would carry it together, that when he didn’t have the strength for whatever was happening, Kit would bear the burden. And when she faltered, he’d be there too, carrying them through.

  This was a new kind of trust and Garret was humbled by it. “You know I love you, right?” he said.

  Her lips tilted up before she leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss across his lips. “Yes, I do. I not only know it, I’m counting on it.”

  ***

  Garret still wasn’t happy about the plan a few days later when he and Kit drove into Burlington to meet with the owner of the bookstore that would be hosting her. He wasn’t happy about being out in such a public area and he wasn’t happy that every time he set foot into a new room or onto a new street, all he could think about was how easy it would be for Kašović to take Kit away.

  On the other hand, he did like seeing Kit and Joseph, the host of the signing and owner of the bookstore, talking, planning, and gushing over their favorite books. He’d seen Kit smile a lot in their few days together, but this was different. This was her world, and judging by the time on the clock he was watching, she could live in it indefinitely.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket; he briefly turned his attention from Kit to the device. Glancing at the number, he answered. “What’s the plan?”

  “Everything is in place,” Caleb replied.

  “And Drew agreed?” Garret asked.

  “Drew didn’t have much of a choice, but yes, he agreed.”

  “When?” On reflex, Garret took a casual look around him. Other than Joseph and Kit, there were two older women and five younger people who looked like students milling about.

  “They’ll be on their way tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.” And with that, he hung up. He’d talked to Caleb after Kit had told him about this little excursion, and while she would play her part, he had a few ideas of his own. Including bringing in backup he could trust. He wasn’t sure if it would be enough—no, scratch that, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to cover her from the moment they left the house the day of the signing to the moment they returned. But without an army, there was no way he could keep Kit protected on all the open land they had to pass through to get into town or on all the streets they had to drive on to get to the store. At least they would be able to park at the back of the shop and walk straight in. It was a small thing, but he’d take it.

  Still, h
e hadn’t wanted to set Kit out as bait without more than just himself to watch over her. Thankfully, Caleb was on board—not that that was ever in doubt—and, apparently, in agreeing to his plan for backup, Drew too. There would be just four of them, but at least he wasn’t alone.

  “Ready?” Kit asked as she approached him wearing the most relaxed smile he’d seen on her face outside the bedroom in a long time.

  “Did you get everything arranged?” he asked, pushing off the wall he’d been leaning against, his eyes going between Kit and Joseph. Joseph looked to be beside himself to have the opportunity to host Kit Forrester, which made Garret smile.

  “Yes, it’s all taken care of. I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to host this event. She has a lot, and I mean a lot of fans around here,” Joseph said.

  Kit gave a self-deprecating laugh, “That’s only because two of the professors use my second book in their lit classes.”

  “Because they have good taste,” Garret said, pulling Kit close and brushing a gentle kiss on her temple.

  Joseph nodded in enthusiastic agreement as they made their way toward the parking area behind the store. Passing through a door and into a storage room, Joseph continued to talk about the promotional plans that were already underway. Garret half listened as he scoped out the room through which they walked. He’d checked it out on their way in; it wasn’t his favorite kind of space—filled with boxes piled in no particular order. He couldn’t see around all of them, and he had already made a not-so-subtle request to Drew to have the room changed around a bit before they returned in three days for the big event.

  At least the back door was locked, Garret noted as Joseph unlocked not one, but two hefty deadbolts before giving the door a shove and opening it onto the well-plowed alley behind the store. “Alley” wasn’t quite the right word, it was more of a back byway, big enough for delivery trucks to use, but not used by the general public; only owners of the stores had permits to park back here. And selected guests.