Page 4 of Bad Decisions

“I’m sorry,” I offer inadequately. Why didn’t I think something like this could be the source of her sadness? I’ve been around death enough to recognize that hollow look.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’ve got all day …” I leave the sentence floating between us. She’s so lost and in need of comfort, but I don’t reach out to her, even though I wish I could. I wonder if there is someone else to hold her the way she needs. Strangely, I don’t like the idea of some other guy wrapping her in his arms—a ridiculous thought since we’ve only just met.

She shrugs, and I think she’s not going to say anything more. Again, I’m wrong. “It was a car accident. He was fifty-four. Too young, that’s what everyone keeps telling me like it will help.” Her voice is little more than a murmur fading to silence, like she’s forgotten I’m even here.

But then she turns stormy eyes toward me. The first beams of sunlight dance over the waves, highlighting her shadowy profile. “I can’t stop thinking, why him?” Her voice hitches. “It’s just not fair. He’s all I had.”

I wish I could give her the answer to her question. But nobody has that answer. I know that because I’ve asked myself the same thing enough times when I’ve lost another friend in somebody else’s war.

“Jewel, I’ve seen a lot of death in my time in the military, and there’s no rhyme or reason to it. Good men get taken too soon while some evil monsters get to live through to old age.”

It’s the only comfort I can offer. Her eyes plead with me for more, and I wish I could help her make sense of it all. “I’ve never lost a parent, but I’ve lost a lot of very good friends, so I know some of your pain. Everything you’re feeling is perfectly natural. It’s all part of the grieving process.”

She looks up at me, those beautiful eyes now awash with unshed tears. “Thank you, Will. You know, I think I did need to speak to someone.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad I was here.”

She scrubs her hands across her face, and when she lifts them away, she offers me a small smile. “I should probably go.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, really, I do. You see, I kind of told my father’s friends I’d be returning to the city. It was just to stop the constant stream of visitors popping in to check on me. So I really do need to get back while it’s still early.”

Hearing that she’s hiding away from people makes it sadder and tugs on an invisible string in my chest. I rub my hand over the spot. I know too well the importance of having the support of your family and friends when you lose someone close. I wish I could do more. But that’s not today, when we’ve only just met.

We stand up at the same time, and she looks even tinier beside me. At six foot one, I’m used to towering over most women, but judging by the way she barely reaches my shoulder, I’m guessing she’s about five two or three. My gaze dips as she brushes the sand from her yoga pants. The snug fit is impossible not to notice, but I quickly look away, not wanting to be sleazy. Sand sticks to my joggers, but I don’t bother to brush it away, as the house isn’t too far away and I’ll be straight into the hot shower.

“Am I going to see you tomorrow?” I ask, wondering if she’ll come back now that we’ve spoken so openly.

“Yes, tomorrow. Bye, and thanks again.” She turns and walks away so quickly she’s almost running back up the sand in her rush to escape.

Hopefully, this isn’t the last time I see the beautiful and intriguing Jewel. Although I need to be thinking about getting my own head straight, I’m inexplicably drawn to her, like our lonely souls have found a kindred spirit. I’m only here for another week, but if I can offer her a small measure of support by talking and listening, then that’s what I’ll do.

Turning, I make my way up the sand to the beach house, my calves tight from the punishing run. Tired muscles mean my body is finally ready to relax—something I’ve found difficult to do even here.

I step onto the wooden deck running along the back of the large beach house, then turn to look toward the spot where Jewel disappeared into the dunes.

Walking to the side entrance where the shower room is, I strip my T-shirt and pullover off in one movement. Next, I discard my shoes and joggers before stepping under the steamy hot shower, the heat and high pressure easing my tight muscles. My eyes drop closed, and I tilt my head back, letting the spray flow down over my face and body. The only sound is the water drumming against the tiles under my feet.

At first, the quiet of the house was more disturbing than if there’d been a wild twenty-four-hour rave going on next door. But as the days have passed, I’ve grown accustomed to the local sounds. Nowhere is ever silent, and this house is no exception. You just need to listen harder to hear the sounds of nature.

There they are, filtering through the high, open window that runs along the length of the shower recess. The wind whistling against the wooden siding. The faint rustling of the coarse grasses that cover the dunes just outside. The ever-present slapping of the small waves against the shoreline.

At some point, the sounds fade, and instead, thoughts of the pretty brunette I just met take up residence in my head. From her delicate features to her tiny figure, everything about Jewel appealed to me. But it wasn’t only physical. She has a natural inner beauty that shines through in her softly spoken words and the depths of emotion that wash through her gaze as regularly as the waves rolling up to the shore. Sadness and loneliness were easily recognizable, but there were also flickers of strength and fortitude.

She’s suffering, and that speaks to my fundamental nature in a way that nothing else can.

Chapter three

Jewel

Buzz, buzz. The old alarm on my bedside table pulls me from sleep for the first time in weeks.

I jump out of bed, wash, and dress in the still-dark, early-morning hours of another wintry day. Initially, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see Will again after talking to him so freely yesterday about my father’s accident. It was the first time I’d told anyone what had happened, and it was surprisingly cathartic.

Heat warms my chilly cheeks as I remember exactly how much I shared with Will, a stranger on the beach who listened intently as my innermost thoughts tumbled out in a flood of words like I had no control over my mouth. Things I haven’t even told my best friend, Cara. Yet Will didn’t seem to find it unusual, and I think it was because he understood loss as intimately as I now did.

Snatching up my keys and cell from the old, worn kitchen table, I head out to my car. Ten minutes later, I’m walking across the beach to my usual spot, freezing grains of sand slipping between my toes.