“Do you have your sessions out here in the open?” Javier asks, leaning on the fence. “I’d love to observe, but I don’t want to invade someone’s privacy.”
While he would learn more from observing one of our frequent guests from Charlie’s and Erik’s ops, most are not of age. Those that are don’t usually have enough confidence to say no when something is asked of them. Molly will have no such issue.
I nod. “I use my office for clients who need a private space to talk, but my patient this morning knows everyone who works or volunteers here understands patient confidentiality. This is a safe space where she can speak freely, so we always start with the horses. Let’s see if she’s okay with you staying.”
Molly walks in, and I introduce her to Javier.
“This is one of my friends who helps on the rescue side of things. He’s interested in observing an equine therapy session, but I’ve got several sessions this week, so you’re under no obligation.”
She regards him critically, looking every inch the boss she is. “Are you going to be a judgmental asshole?”
I stifle a grin, wishing she could see what a badass she really is.
“Absolutely not,” he answers, his demeanor serious and respectful.
“Then I’m fine with it.”
He moves off to the other end of the arena, leaning against the fencing. Petting Luna’s long neck, Molly immediately confesses she’s been off. Not sleeping, agitated, ready to lash out at the next person who tests her patience.
It turns out her mother has been showing signs of dementia and needing more care. None of her siblings are in a position to help, and Molly—who was always the target of her mother’s nastiness—resents having to help at all.
Luna, who was a champ in her recent startle-response training—remains laid-back as Molly carefully brushes her coat while venting her frustrations and fears about back-sliding into that version of herself who struggled with self-esteem.
While brushing Luna’s chest, Molly breaks down and leans into Luna’s neck, giving her a hug as she quietly cries. Luna bends her neck to deepen the hug and stands patiently while Molly works it out.
After several moments, Molly steps back, looking surprised by her display of emotion. We quietly talk about how she’s having a genuinely normal response to a tough situation. With that, I help her saddle up Luna, and we go for a few turns around the training space.
By the end of the session, her cheeks are flushed from riding and her eyes sparkle.
“You know, when I first met you, with all of your tattoos and piercings, I was skeptical,” she says, dismounting smoothly. “But this has been the most useful therapy I’ve ever attempted.”
“That’s the magic of the tattoos,” I joke with a broad gesture. “Or maybe it’s just that horses are excellent co-regulating partners.”
“Or maybe that,” she responds, laughing as she pulls off her riding gloves.
We say goodbye and schedule our next appointment in two weeks. Javier follows me into my office as I make notes, set the appointment, and pull up the file on my next patient.
“You are really good at what you do,” he says, casually leaning against the doorframe with his ankles crossed.
My cheeks flush at the compliment. “Thanks. I’m glad I found something I like as much as this.”
“Will you do a horse therapy session with Elias before he goes?”
I nod, finalizing the online forms for insurance. “I’ve got a session with him and Ant on the books. I think he’ll like it.”
“I’ve spent the last ten years hunting down the assholes who cull kids from their neighborhoods. It’s…” He pauses to rub his chest, something embarrassingly close to hero worship in his eyes. “It’s a privilege to see what happens on this side of the equation.”
Straightening, my eyes meet his and get lost in their sincerity.
“Um, thanks.” I shove my hands into my pockets so they don’t suddenly develop a mind of their own. “That means a lot. I wish we could help more people though.”
His smile causes crinkles to form at the edges of his eyes. “Me too. Maybe that’s something we can work on together.”
I swallow thickly, rocking on my feet, hoping it looks like I’ve got some semblance of self-control. Given the way his eyes land on the fluttering vein in my neck, probably not.
12
JAVIER
