Alex shifted so she could see my face better. “I think if it helps, it’s worth exploring. The way Maggie grounds both of us… having that consistently could make a real difference.”
I pulled her fully against me, her head tucking under my chin. “You’d be okay with it? Having a service dog around all the time?”
“Sweetheart, I’d get ten service dogs if it meant you felt more stable and safe,” she huffed a quiet laugh. “Though one probably makes more sense logistically.”
“Probably.”
We lay there in the darkness, her breathing evening out against my chest.
“I love you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I love you. Partners.”
“Partners.”
Whatever Elena’s assessment brought, whatever she discovered about how I was really doing, at least I wouldn’t be facing it alone.
Chapter 45
Pulled apart
Finn
The event barn was nearly five years old—rustic stone and natural wood on the outside, flooded with light through the white interior. Luke and Elowyn had done well with the expansion of North Star Ranch.
The consultation room was in the loft level, along with a handful of other rooms. Through the window, I could see the lodge and restaurant a ways off. If I squinted, I could tell it was Mom walking toward the buildings—disappearing into the back entrance of the restaurant’s kitchen.
Elena was already there when I arrived, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs arranged around a low coffee table. Vendor binders and sample books lined the built-in shelves around the room. Someone had lit a candle on the small desk tucked against the far wall—vanilla.
“Good morning, Finn,” she stood to greet me.
“Morning,” I moved to the small sofa across from her, the coffee table between us. Her notepad sat on the side table—casual, like she might not need it.
She would need it.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“Nervous.” No point lying. “This is different than video calls or office visits.”
“It is,” she settled back into her chair. “But that’s why I’m here. I need to see how you function in your actual environment.”
“Where do you want to start?” I was already calculating howmuch time we were going to spend together in the next two or so weeks—how much carefully hidden shame she was going to uncover.
“Let’s talk about what happened during the flood.”
My jaw tightened.
“What part?” The tactical details were easy—hours in the rain, physical exhaustion building, the sensory overload. I’d already given her that in our emergency call.
“The part where Alex slipped in the mud.”
The moment everything collapsed.
I flexed my hands against my thighs. “I’d just gotten to the creek. She was working the sandbags. I could see she knew what she was doing. Then her foot slipped and she went down near the creek edge.”
“What did you feel when that happened?”
“Panic. Complete—” I stopped, searching for the right words. “My brain couldn’t separate what was actually happening from what I was afraid would happen. The water, the sound of it. Everything just collapsed into the crash.”
