Afew days passed in the usual blur of ranch life and therapy activities. Crew worked with the horses, attended equine therapy and art therapy.
Now there was no escaping talk therapy with Rhae.
Not that he was avoiding the session. He didn’t even dread walking into her office because Rhae’s precocious toddler was always ready to play toy animals or blocks on the office floor.
But the horses he worked with didn’t ask—even gently—if he’d thought of anything that might interest him after he left the program. And the fence he and Pope spent the morning repairing didn’t give a damn how he felt sitting around a bonfire.
Drawing a breath through his nose, he placed his palm on the door of Rhae’s office that was never unavailable to the vets. He swung it inward.
“Cweww!” The toddler caught sight of him and barreled right at his legs.
She slammed into his shins, arms flung wide around his legs, and something tightened in his chest. The child was such a part of his day-to-day life that when it came time to leave the program, losing her would be a wrench for him.
He stooped and swung her into his arms. She hugged his neck and squeezed.
From her desk across the room, Rhae laughed. “We’ve been working on giving the horses hugs goodbye, so now she’s hugging everyone around the neck.”
Chuckling, he walked in and drew the door closed to indicate to the next vet that Rhae was in session.
He went to his usual spot by the little girl’s toys and sat on the floor. Her bright eyes met his for a split second. Suddenly, she rushed across the room to the stack of printer paper and grabbed a stack.
“This girl has a great memory.”
Rhae breezed out a laugh and crossed the room to her seat in the leather chair. “She really does. Denver and I can already see what a handful she’ll be in her teens.”
He quirked a smile, trying to imagine the child older, wearing makeup, liking boys. He took a sheet of paper and began folding it into a paper airplane. The girl watched with so much interest he wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew the steps to fold one herself.
He twitched his arm back and let the airplane sail. As the child raced after it, bare feet thwacking the hardwood floor, he let out a laugh.
“When I first got here, your daughter was just an infant, asleep in a little bed in the corner of the office. Then I’d make the airplanes, and she’d crawl after them. Now she’s running.” He shook his head.
Rhae sat back, hands resting in her lap.
“The girl’s gone through a lot of changes. Milestones…” He drifted off in thought.
“Let’s talk about your milestones. You’ve made some leaps this week. I was pleased to see you at the bonfire the other night. I know you’ve been to a few, but you left quickly. This time you didn’t.”
He watched the child playing on the floor, the airplane in one hand and the plastic horse in the other, making them talk to each other.
When he didn’t speak, Rhae took another tack, her voice soft. “The other day, I saw you looking at the board in the lodge.”
His gut clenched.
“I’ve been in touch with all of those men, and I’m so glad that they are moving on with their lives,” she continued. “How do you feel when you see their photos?”
“Glad they are in motion,” he said gruffly.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Rhae nod even as he kept his focus on the toddler. Now, she had the small plastic horse positioned between her knees and was galloping around the room.
“Neigh!”
“I know we’ve talked about what you might enjoy doing after you leave the program, Crew. Have you thought about it more?”
“Off and on.”
“Would you care to share what those thoughts were?”
He shot her a glance. “Unless you count cleaning horse stalls, I don’t have any skills outside flying. I thought about being a commercial pilot, or flying a private jet for big-wigs with money. Hell, even flying planes full of packages to be delivered.”
