Page 134 of How You See Me
“Don’t tell your easily spooked friend, but I think the rabbit is either challenging you to a rematch or wants its picture taken.”
“How about both?” She raises the camera and takes a few shots before tapping her heels against her horse’s side. “You’re not messing with Bessy and me again, you little troublemaker,” she yells.
In a full gallop, she leads the horse after the rabbit until it zigzags across the clearing and darts under a bush.
Laughing, she circles back to me, triumphant and with her arms up, ignoring the other riders’ disapproval. “Victory!”
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, half with love and half in disbelief.
She beams, of course. “Thanks.”
We get back to the group, content to let the view do all the talking. The canyon shifts around us as the sun dips, shadows covering the rocky floor. Eventually, we stop near a ledge overlooking the canyon and dismount.
Everything hushes around us as the sky shifts through shades of pink, orange, and violet, a living painting.
“I’m going to miss this.”
Josie leans into me, her head falling to my shoulder. “Me too.”
There’s a note of sadness coating her voice that hallows me out. I need a change of subject to lighten the somber mood. Our goodbye is coming too fast, and I don’t want to think about it. I never should have brought it up.
"You’re going to crush it in Vegas. That gallery won’t know what hit them.”
She smiles against my shirt. “And you’ll dive into the Pacific and make Ava proud.”
“Yeah.” But my mind wanders beyond that. “And what about after? What do you think will happen?”
She lifts her head, eyes serious now, reflecting the fading light. “With us?”
I nod.
“I’m not sure, but I know we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Something in my chest folds and unravels all at once. I take her hand, threading my fingers with hers.
“Do you still want to retire?” she asks cautiously, surprising me.
I’d mentioned it before, but I didn’t expect her to remember, let alone bring it up now.
“More than ever.”
A slow, satisfied smile emerges, and she leans closer, her fingertip tracing the black and gray tattoo on my bicep.
“I’ve been meaning to ask . . . why a moth?” She looks up at me, almost shy, but I know better. “It’s beautiful, but unexpected.”
I follow her gaze to the ink, the dark lines stark against her untouched skin. That same contrast—between my past and present—hits me the way it did the day I got it.
“I never thought I’d get a tattoo. Over fifteen years in the Corps, I’d come across enough bad ink to know it wasn’t my thing.” The past rattles through my system, spiking my blood pressure. “But then everything fell apart, and I needed something permanent to remind me.”
Josie straightens, concern pulling on her features. “Of what?”
“Who I am, and who I’m fighting for.”
For a few heartbeats, I watch the sun dip below the canyon walls, gathering my thoughts. It’s not easy putting something like this into words.
“It started the night we got Ava’s diagnosis,” I finally say. “I was training in Texas when Mom called. Her voice cracked when she told me, and I could barely breathe long enough to tell her I’d be home soon. I’d never heard her break down like that. She’s always been the strongest person I know.”
Her fingers wrap around my arm, steadying me as I push through the memories and swallow back all the buried emotion trying to resurface.
