Chapter 60

sixty

JACOB

I found a parking space a block away from Pearl Street and walked to Nick’s gallery. The historic area in Boulder was packed with people enjoying a night on the town. Moving closer to the red-brick buildings, I tried to reduce the likelihood of triggering a panic attack.

A few minutes later, I stopped outside the gallery. Inside the large glass display windows were two of Andrew’s canvases. They were both landscapes showing Willow Lake in all its glory. He must have taken the photos in the fall. The deep red and orange glow of the trees was magical against the clear blue sky and glistening lake.

“You’ll need an invitation to go inside,” a man’s voice said from beside me. “This is the opening night of the exhibition. But from tomorrow, you can see the canvases whenever the gallery’s open. It’s well worth a look.”

I turned and smiled at the stranger. “Thanks. Did you buy anything?”

The stranger returned my smile. “I did, but I nearly missed out. Someone else was ready to buy the three photos of Yellowstone National Park, but I beat them to the desk. I’d better get going. Have a good night.”

“You, too,” I said. I looked through the window at the people holding glasses of wine and nibbling on food. I’d forgotten that tonight was for invited guests only.

I could call Andrew and tell him I’d arrived, but that might upset him.

Trying to get past the security staff without a ticket would only embarrass him. So I walked around the side of the building. Jonathan was here. If I could find him, I’d have more chance of getting inside the gallery and seeing Andrew.

The soft, classical notes of a string quartet drifted down the wide alleyway. A wall of floor-to-ceiling doors shone light onto the asphalt and gave me a clear view of the exhibition.

The gallery owner knew a thing or two about displaying art. Each canvas was lit by spotlights, adding to the texture, light, and movement in each photograph.

A man walked past the window holding a camera. I stopped. It was Paul. I doubled back and tapped on the window, hoping he realized I was standing outside.

If I didn’t figure out a way of getting into the gallery soon, someone might think I was up to no good and call the police.

Just when I was about to give up and head back to the front door, Paul saw me and frowned. I pointed to the locked doors.

When he realized what I wanted, he looked over his shoulder before letting me inside. “Why didn’t you come in the front door?”

“There are two security staff on duty. I didn’t want to embarrass Andrew, so I thought I’d try coming through the back door.

“I’m assuming Andrew doesn’t know you’re here?”

I nodded. It didn’t look as though Paul was particularly happy to see me, either. “I wanted to apologize for the way I treated him. I made a mistake when I ended our relationship.”

Paul crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Liam told me I should butt out of Andrew’s life and not say anything to you. But, as his friend, I feel a moral obligation to tell you exactly how I feel.”

I braced myself for the words he was about to say. I probably deserved every unkind thought that had crossed his mind. I just hoped Paul hadn’t shared his thoughts with Andrew.

“Anyone with half a brain can see how much you care about each other. You’re a good man, Jacob, but you really need to work on your confidence.”

My mouth dropped open. Instead of telling me I was an idiot, he was giving me advice.

Paul’s frown deepened. “The sooner you apologize to Andrew, the better it’ll be for everyone. But before you go anywhere, there’s something you need to see.” He pointed to a white wall not far from where we were standing. “Go over there and look at the canvas hanging on the wall. I’ll follow you. If you need to find somewhere quiet to sit after you’ve seen it, just let me know.”

My imagination was working overtime. Andrew’s photographs weren’t the sort of pictures that gave you nightmares. If anything, they celebrated what was buried below the surface of each image.

“Go on,” Paul said. “I’m right behind you.”

Whatever was hanging on the wall must be horrific.

I wove my way through the crowd. A few people’s eyebrows rose as I walked past. Others stopped talking completely, staring at me as if I’d grown two heads.

Maybe it was my clothes? I should have known not to wear my black funeral suit, but it was the only one I had.

When I was a few feet away from the photograph, the people around me fell silent.

Dylan was right. This crowd could spot an imposter when they saw one. Anyone would think I was here to deface the canvases or…

Something weird was going on. Everyone’s gaze darted from the wall to me, and back again.

I moved closer to the canvas and stared at the large photograph.

It was me, but it wasn’t.

When my mind calmed down enough to see what Andrew had created, I was shocked. His photograph had stripped back every emotional layer I wore and exposed the most vulnerable part of who I was.

I stepped closer to the canvas. Half of me was in awe of his talent. The other half was embarrassed.

He’d taken the photo at Shane and Jonathan’s wedding. There was a longing in my face that I’d never seen before. I knew why it was there, and so did Andrew.

It wasn’t for what could have been, but for what had always been inside me. Patience, courage, and determination shone from the canvas. It was in the line of my shoulders, the angle of my jaw. Light balanced the shadows, my dreams added depth.

At that stage, Andrew had only met me a couple of times. But even then, he’d looked beyond my complicated, damaged soul and found the best of who I was.

Paul moved closer. “Are you all right?”

The only thing I could do was nod. Andrew’s picture was changing the way I saw myself, the way I saw the world.

Paul’s hand rested on my elbow. “I’ll be back soon. If you need to get away, head toward the glass doors you came through. I’ll be right behind you.”

I watched him leave, then turned back to the canvas.

Afghanistan had taken nearly everything from me but, until now, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been given.

The refugee camps were filled with displaced people, but they lived with hope. All they wanted was to return to their homes, to the lives they’d left behind. At times, when the pain of what I saw was too much, I turned to my friends for support. The other medical staff were incredible, but so were the people who’d become refugees in their own country.

They knew what it was like to live in fear, to worry about unclean water, limited food rations, and medicines that were difficult to find. They knew, better than most, what it was like to lose the people you loved.

Somehow, the refugees’ tenacity and perseverance had become part of who I was. Beneath the unpredictable symptoms of PTSD was a man who could love and be loved.

“Hi, Jacob.”

My heart pounded. Andrew stood beside me, his eyes full of the same uncertainty I felt. I wanted so badly to reach out, to hold him in my arms, to explain why I’d panicked. But I didn’t know how.

He took a deep breath. “Paul told me you were here.”

“I hope it’s okay that I came.”

“I wanted to talk to you after the exhibition, anyway.” He glanced at the photograph. “The canvas is for you. I want you to see what I see when I look at you. Whatever happened in Afghanistan hasn’t defined you. It’s made you stronger. Here.” He placed his hand over my heart.

I covered his fingers with mine. “I’m sorry?—”

“It doesn’t matter. I understand why you don’t want us to be together.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” I gathered my thoughts, focused on the words I’d practiced on the way here. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough to let you close. I want you to be my safe place to fall, but I also want to be yours.”

Andrew’s eyes widened, then filled with tears. “I’d like that, too.”

“I can’t promise that a relationship with me will be easy. But I’ll do everything I can to show you how much I love you.”

Andrew took a deep, shuddering breath. “That sounds like a wonderful plan to me.”

Everyone around us started clapping.

I wrapped him in my arms, holding him close. “I love you.”

His arms tightened around my shoulders. “I love you, too.”

When I looked over Andrew’s shoulder, Paul was the first person I saw. I didn’t know if he was smiling because he was happy or relieved. But it wasn’t important.

Andrew loved me, and that was all that mattered.