I nod, knowing they served together.My father might not have pulled me into his business, but he did always share information about the people he worked with.The only two I’ve met are Edna, Seamus’s mother, and Royce Elden, one of my father’s business partners.
My father, Royce, and Burk Clark founded the business thirty-three years ago.They were in the marines together.Edna served as well and was one of the first people they hired, but she retired years ago.Sadness hits me at the reminder of the company.
Refusing to let the burn in my eyes create more tears...I’ve cried enough over the past few days...I divert my gaze and place a hand on Benny.The dog has been my rock of emotional support ever since my father brought him home.
Everything sounds insane, yet deep down I know I have to trust Seamus.My father clearly did.The note is his, I recognize his handwriting.Benny licks my fingers, and it’s a reminder of something Seamus already did for me in the past.
“T-thank y-you,” I croak and lift my gaze to Seamus as I point at Benny.
He gives me a tight nod.“No thanks needed.He was my dog, until Dax called and explained what happened to you.”Jerking his chin at Benny, who is leaning against my leg, he adds, “I knew he’d be the right dog for you.He’s flawless when it comes to sensing emotions.Fucker knew exactly when I had a nightmare and used to wake me up by practically sitting on my damn face.”
I point at the little dog dozing off in the crook of his arm.
Seamus snorts.“Macy is Benny on crack.They’re from the same breeding parents, but ever since my ma’s old dog jumped on her, breaking her leg in three places, she’s become my shadow.It took months to heal after the orthopedic surgeon put a few pins in it.Thank fuck she’s tiny so I can carry her around.She never left my side after I had my accident and retired.”
His gaze slides to the window.“I’m gonna put your horses into the stables before it gets dark.”
I throw a glance over my shoulder and notice it’s almost sundown.He’s right, it gets dark here pretty fast and there are lots of predators lurking in the woods surrounding us.
“I’ll help,” I sign.
His hand goes up and he signs, “You cat.”
Cat and can’t might sound the same, but in ASL the movement and hand placements are way different.
Fighting a smile, I sign, “You can’t.”
“That’s what I said,” he grumbles.
I shake my head and bring my hand up to sign, “cat,” to indicate the whiskers of a cat.Then I place both hands palm down, index finger out, and bring my dominant hand down to tap the tip of my index finger of my non-dominant hand that stays still, signing “can’t.”
Seamus narrows his eyes and snaps, “You don’t need to correct me, you need to use your damn mouth and skip the handwaving.”
Anger hits hard and fast, making me snap, “Asshole.”
“No stutter.”He smirks.“Good girl.”
With that he walks off, leaving me stunned.I blink a few times and it makes the anger spike once again.Skip the handwaving.Asshole.I was already a trained professional before the incident.I took online programs before taking classes because I wanted to become an ASL interpreter.
When I was twelve, my father talked about one of his jobs for the security company.He needed an ASL interpreter and it intrigued me enough to start learning by myself.My drive was to maybe one day assist my father in one of his assignments.I never told him and kept my ambitions to myself.Though, after what happened to me every dream I had shattered into a million pieces.
I curl my hands into fists and stomp out of the cabin.The asshole doesn’t hear me calling him a freaking cripple, so who does he think he is, calling ASL handwaving?It’s a language, just like any other.
Spotting him in the pasture, I’m about to call him an asshole again, hoping I won’t stutter, when his leg gives out.He crashes to his knees, one hand in the dirt to catch himself while holding the lead rope tightly in his other hand.
Sloth abruptly comes to a stop and nudges Seamus’s shoulder.I notice his cane leaning against the fence and I guess it’s a great moment to sneer something at the asshole, but I can’t seem to force myself to kick a man when he’s down.
Turning, I silently try to sneak back into the cabin, but Benny starts to bark.A chill runs up my spine and it feels as if someone is watching me.
My gaze flies to the edge of the clearance to see what Benny is barking at, when I hear Seamus bellow, “Get your ass inside, Jaxie.”
Ignoring Seamus, I reach behind my back and palm my gun, aiming it in one smooth move in the direction of the threat.
“Motherfucker,” Seamus snaps.“Where the hell did you get that gun?Fuck.Either get your damn ass inside or move toward me.”
The gun was my father’s suggestion, after I came out of the hospital.Even with my attacker dead, I never felt safe.When my father taught me how to handle a gun, I regained some strength by knowing I wouldn’t be helpless if a situation like that ever happened again.
Keeping my eyes on the tree line, I move back and reach with my free hand for the gate.Seamus gives a short whistle and both dogs move in his direction.I grab the cane and close the gate.Still walking backwards, I suddenly feel a hard chest at my back and a hot breath beside my ear.
