I wasn’t a guy that deserved a second chance.
I wasn’t a guy that deserved redemption.
I wasn’t a guy that deserved forgiveness.
I wasn’t a guy that deserved compassion or pity.
I wasn’t a guy that should have been rewarded with a shot to redo and retry everything I had done wrong…but I was a guy that was given that shot. And for whatever reason this morning, while I was looking in the mirror, I told myself it was time to stop squandering it.
I could be the guy that deserved forgiveness. I just had to work at it…harder than anyone else ever had. That was why I caught the pretty little brunette before she hit the ground. It was also why I bundled her up in my coat and tucked her matted and bloody hair into my wool beanie that was in my pocket before trekking the forty-five minutes over uneven and rough terrain back to the secluded cabin I had been calling home for the last four months.
It was like the universe, or maybe the man down below, had heard my morning vow and put the perfect test in my path. Was I really ready to be a standup guy, a decent human being, a man who actually gave a shit about someone or something other than myself? I couldn’t answer that question just yet, but the unconscious woman in my arms sure had good timing. If she’d come crashing down the mountain yesterday, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help. Yesterday, I was still the old me and that guy was a real fucking bastard. That guy absolutely deserved to have his happy ass dropped a million miles from nowhere, cut off from everything he had ever known. He undeniably deserved being stripped of everything he had fought and killed for. That guy deserved to have no power and no prestige.
That guy also deserved to have his throat slashed and the shit beat out of him while he rotted in prison.
The new me, hopefully, wasn’t going to have to watch his back every second of every day. The new me was going to keep his nose clean, make good choices, and fake being an average Joe and a good Samaritan. The new me wasn’t going to put himself in situations where both the good guys and the bad guys wanted him dead. The new me sounded like the kind of guy I used to shake down and shake up for my old boss. I wanted to kick my own ass and I hadn’t even been the new me for a full twenty-four hours yet.
The babe in my arms let out a little moan and shifted. I had to tighten my hold on her and fight for my balance on the slick and slippery ground under my boots. I was a city boy through and through. When the US Marshals dumped me in this burg that I couldn’t even find on a map, it was the first time I’d seen anything as green as the forest of trees around my cabin. The trees where I was from had broken limbs and rotten roots. They were brown and twisted, gray and grungy, just like everything else in the Point. It was the first time I could see stars because here they weren’t obscured by smog and pollution. And it was definitely the first time I had ever experienced snow. The Marshals wanted me somewhere remote, somewhere that I would see anyone coming from miles and miles away. They said they wanted me somewhere secure because I was such a valuable asset and everyone and their brother back home thought I was six feet under. They didn’t want me pulling an Elvis and coming back from the dead over and over again. I was smart enough to know they wanted me somewhere that I couldn’t cause any trouble. Presumed dead or not, I had a lot of connections that I could use to create chaos, so this was a prison, albeit one with a much prettier view than the one they’d sprung me from.
I couldn’t be more of a fish out of water if I tried. I was used to tailored suits and Italian leather shoes, not denim, flannel, and boots with heavy tread. I liked expensive cologne and fancy food. Back home, I drove a sports car that hugged the road and cost a small fortune. Here I had a four-by-four with snow tires and a winch on the front of it. I’d also never had a beard in my life. I wasn’t even sure I could grow one, but decided I should try. Within the first few weeks of getting dumped on the side of the mountain I had a face full of fuzz that made me look like an entirely different man. The locals knew I didn’t belong, but strangers like this girl and the tourists I encountered never gave me a second look. I was just another big, bearded mountain man living life rough and wild. I was forgettable…something I had never been. Something I had sold my soul to the highest bidder to assure I never would be.
The little tart in my arms twitched and those heart-stealing baby blues flickered open as she let out another moan of pain. She needed a doctor and it pissed me off that I couldn’t get her to one with the roads being impassable. I could patch her up street style but that gash on the top of her head and the dislocated shoulder were going to require more care than I could give.