Page 59 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
She had started to believe that trusting Him again was possible. Each time she caught herself breathing easier, laughing more, or whispering a prayer she hadn’t planned, she’d wondered if this was what faith was supposed to feel like.
But now? With those papers in her hands, it felt like all that fragile growth had been knocked sideways. Gideon hadn’t chosen her. Not really. And if he hadn’t...maybe she’d misread everything. Maybe she’d misread God, too.
She blinked against the sting in her eyes and pressed her fist harder into her lap. Faith was supposed to be about trusting when you couldn’t see the outcome, wasn’t it? That was what Cassie and the others seemed to live so effortlessly. But for Juliana, faith still felt like stepping out onto a rope bridge over a canyon—every creak and sway reminding her how far she could fall.
22
GIDEON
Juliana had been avoiding him.
Not in the obvious, slam-the-door, refuse-to-make-eye-contact way. No, she was too polite for that. But the last couple days she’d managed to be everywhere he wasn’t—helping Cassie with the kids, riding along with Jason to pick up feed, slipping out early from family dinners with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Gideon knew enough to recognize when someone was dodging him, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Before this shift, they’d been finding their rhythm. They were laughing more, lingering over coffee in the mornings at the lodge, falling into easy conversation that didn’t feel forced. He’d even started to think maybe they were moving past the awkward start and into something that could stick. He’d been ready—itching, really—to take the next step, whatever that looked like for them.
The explanation came mid-morning when his phone buzzed and Ruby Thompson’s name lit the screen.
“Hey,” he answered, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear as he tightened a bolt on the snowblower. “What’s up?”
“Oh, now you answer your phone?” she said with a laugh.
Gideon shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. Phones were great, but it wasn’t like he could text and mountain bike at the same time.
“If you give me a hard time, I’ll just ignore your call next time,” he replied.
“Fine, fine. I was just making sure you got the folder I left for you,” Ruby said. “I handed it to Juliana the other day since I was heading out of town for the holidays and couldn’t get ahold of you.”
The wrench slipped in his hand, knuckles cracking hard against the frame. “You...what?”
Ruby’s tone sharpened. “She didn’t give it to you?”
“She didn’t,” he said, already picturing exactly what was inside that manila folder and the expression Juliana must’ve worn when she opened it. His gut twisted. “When was this?”
“We left Tuesday night and I gave it to her that afternoon.”
“I gotta go.”
He didn’t wait for Ruby’s reply. He hung up, dropped the wrench, and headed straight for the lodge.
Snow crunched under his boots as he crossed the lot, his breath coming faster than it should’ve for the short walk. A dark sedan idled near the front steps, the blue RideShare decal glowing in the windshield. Probably here for one of the lodge guests, he figured. Someone heading into town for last-minute Christmas shopping or an early dinner reservation.
The driver leaned on the steering wheel, glancing between his phone and the front door like he was counting seconds. “I’m looking for Juliana Emerson?” the guy asked when Gideon approached.
For a beat, Gideon just stared at him, the words slotting into place like a punch to the gut. She was leaving. Leaving without saying a word. The heat rose fast in his chest, chasing out the cold.
“Not anymore,” Gideon said, forcing his voice steady. “She won’t be needing a ride.” He pulled out his wallet and handed the guy the biggest bills he had.
The driver gave him a puzzled look but shrugged and tapped at his phone. Gideon stood there until the car pulled away, its taillights disappearing down the snowy road.
He told himself it was just irritation, being blindsided like that. But the truth pressed harder. This wasn’t just about her skipping out without a goodbye. It was the way she’d been avoiding him for days, slipping away like sand through his fingers, and now here was the proof she was ready to walk away completely.
Panic edged in beneath the anger, sharp and cold. He’d been stupid enough to think they were turning a corner—that the barn dance, the sleigh ride, the quiet moments in between had meant something to her the way they had to him. He’d been ready to take the next step. Apparently, she’d been planning her exit.
The door swung open just as he reached it, and there she was. She had her coat on, bag over her shoulder, eyes widening as she spotted the empty drive behind him. She glanced back at her phone.
“Where’s my ride?”
