by Nicole Helm
“A farm, huh?” He gave her a sideways glance. “I’m not sure I can picture you milking cows.”
“Well, we were more corn and soybeans, but I can and have milked a cow quite skillfully,” she said primly. “I have also sheered a sheep, and won a pie making contest at the Indiana State Fair.”
“Now the last one doesn’t surprise me at all. Add state fair to the long list of things I’ve never done.”
“Surely they have state fairs in Oklahoma.”
“I’m sure they do. We didn’t much leave the trailer park.” The mention of his own childhood had some of that ease leaving him, tension creeping into his shoulders. But it wasn’t the usual complete shutdown she was used to coming from him.
So, she couldn’t resist poking. “You were unhappy.”
It wasn’t a question, because it was too obvious. Still, he was silent for so long she thought he wasn’t going to confirm or deny that observation. When he finally spoke it was with a gravity of having given it some thought.
“I’ve certainly held onto the unhappy more than the happy. I’m sure there were happy times I didn’t want to admit. Sometimes it’s easier to focus on the bad.”
“I suppose it depends on who you are. Some people find it easier to focus on the happy and never acknowledge the bad. Not sure that’s any better.” She knew she fell into that camp a little more than she should sometimes. Glossing over bad with good just so she didn’t have to sink too low into what life could do.
They approached the mess hall, and Viv didn’t want the moment to end. He was talking to her, about real things. Not just potatoes and dishes.
“You’ll have to go to the Montana State Fair in the summer.”
He huffed out a little laugh. “I guess I could.” He reached out and pulled the door open for her, and as she passed him to enter the building their gazes met.
He looked at her a bit like he’d never seen her before, and Viv found herself...holding her breath. Like something was about to happen. Like something could happen. It wasn’t just her ogling his bare chest, it was...something between them. A spark. A—
He gave her a little nudge, with his elbow. And she had to step forward. He said nothing. She said nothing.
They went about to cleaning the mess from breakfast and Vivian could find none of her normal cheerful chattiness.
*
When Eli walked into his therapy session with Monica, he was feeling pretty full of himself. He’d done something she’d approve of—gone out with the guys. He wouldn’t mention his conversation with his sister before that, or that...moment with Viv this morning.
Sure, Vivian was a beautiful, interesting, enticing woman. Sure, most guys would have taken that look she’d given him at his cabin as an invitation. There had even been the oddest...flutter in his chest. Like the stirrings of a new life. A life he’d never had, but the past few days had made seem...
Possible.
But it was a figment of his imagination. What he’d done hadn’t just disappeared. It lived inside of him. Always.
So, he’d need to watch his step a little more carefully where Vivian was concerned. He could do that. Besides, his two-month rotation on kitchen duty would be done come the new year and then he could stay away from her almost completely.
No problem.
He stepped into the stables. Monica already had two horses out of their stalls. And saddled.
She smiled at him, a smile he’d learned not to trust. “We’re going to go for a ride today.”
Eli’s eyebrows drew together. Typically he and Monica didn’t ride. He’d learned how, but he didn't have the same skills guys who’d come from ranch or farming backgrounds did. Eli usually worked with the horses in other ways. He wasn’t sure how they were going to talk on the top of horses, but he didn’t say anything. Not talking sounded pretty good.
They led the horses outside and mounted. The cold was almost unbearable, but a weak winter sun tried to give the aura of warmth as the horses crunched through the snow.
He hadn’t spent much time beyond the main stables and pastures and barns of the ranch since his first few months here when he’d done some fence work. He’d certainly never ventured this far out in the dead of winter.
Monica stopped them at the swell of a hill and hopped off her horse. Eli considered not getting off his, but that wouldn’t change the inevitability of whatever Monica was trying to accomplish.
He got off the horse, then stood there and looked out at the world below. There was a hush to everything, a stark, glittering beauty he’d never experienced before. Not with the full knowledge it was safe. He was safe. Not on a mission, not carrying gear, not looking for any possible threat. Just a peaceful, regular world.
And it was beautiful.
When he turned to find Monica studying him, dread stained all those good feelings. She hadn’t brought him here just to show him a pretty view.
“Eli, I want you to move into the main bunk. ASAP.”
It was a cold bucket of water dumped on his head. He’d been certain he was about to control this situation and she wanted him to...
Monica stood here on this beautiful vista. A trick. But her gaze was direct and her voice was firm. “I know you don’t want to, but it’s the next step. You need to take it.”
“I’m not ready.”
“You don’t want to be ready. There’s a difference.”
“I thought... You’re not supposed to tell me what to do. I’m supposed to—”
Monica held up a hand. “There are very few supposed tos in therapy. It’s about dealing with your issues. If I let you continue to avoid this issue, I’m not doing my job as your therapist.”
“No. I won’t do it.”
She studied him for the longest time in a silence that threatened...everything. And yet he couldn’t fight it. He couldn’t avoid it. It was just there. A loaded gun.
“The world is a beautiful, very big place, Eli,” Monica said gently. “It’s time you start thinking about what you want to do in it.” She gestured to the vast landscape around them. “You won’t do that isolated in that cabin.”
He should tell her about last night. About the odd feelings he had for Vivian. Tell her that he was doing all that—but safely, from where he belonged in that isolated cabin, but he couldn’t find the rational words. “You can’t make me.”
Her mouth curved ever so slightly, but there was a sadness about this whole interaction he didn’t understand. She’d always been so neutral. “I wouldn’t go that far. But let’s stop denying what you’re going to do and talk about how you’re feeling about it.”
“I’d like to pound something to dust.” Which wasn’t fully true. Mostly he felt frozen. His heart beating too fast, and big, black void of unknown stretching out before him.
“But you’re not doing it,” Monica said. “You’re not pounding anything, Eli.”
“I could.” He should. He should. But there was nothing but Monica and their horses and the snow around them.
“You could. But you’ve chosen not to. Because you have control. Because what you did back in Oklahoma is not who you are. It was a breaking point you’ve moved beyond.”
“I haven’t.”
“It’d be easier for you if you hadn’t. But easy isn’t healing, Eli. Why don’t you think about that on the ride back?”
It wasn’t a suggestion, no matter how much she made it sound like one. She climbed back on her horse, and he had to do the same. He was stuck with nowhere to go, and nothing to think about besides the fact she was pushing him against his will.
And all of this had been a trick.
She turned her horse around with a click of her tongue, and Eli considered galloping in the opposite direction. Just run until there was nowhere else to go, and the cold took over and...
And what?
There was no good end to that road, so all he could do was turn his horse and follow Monica back to the stables, mind racing how he was going to...stop this.<
br />
He had to stop it.
They got off their horses and led them into the stables. Eli searched for something to say that would get through to her, change her mind, prove to her that he was better alone.
Monica patiently waited, watching him with those therapist eyes, but he couldn’t think of anything.
He had nothing to say to her. Maybe not ever again. Eventually she nodded as if his silence was answer enough. “Take some time to think it over. We’ll have an informal check in tonight. After you’ve moved yourself into Bunk 3.”
Still Eli said nothing.
“My next appointment is coming.” She nodded to where Nate Averly stood awkwardly outside the stable doors. “We’ll handle the horses. You might as well go pack up your cabin before you have to help Viv with dinner. I’ll stop by the bunk around eight.”
There was so much he wanted to say. Chief among them she was wrong. There was a roiling fury inside of him. The same one that had led him here—afraid of himself and what he might do when the rage took over.
But Monica seemed sad and Nathan was waiting and...
And she couldn’t make him. No one could make him do anything. This wasn’t the Navy. This wasn’t his childhood. He made the choices here.
Eli didn’t look at Nate as he passed him. He didn’t greet any of the people he passed who offered hellos. He marched to his cabin, where he was staying. They couldn’t kick him out. They’d have to bodily remove him, and if they did... He wasn’t coming back.
And where would you go?
He jerked the door open and stormed inside. He could destroy everything in here. It was churning inside of him. And Monica didn’t think he would. She thought he had control. He could break windows and destroy furniture and really show her what he was ready for.
But all he did was stand there in the middle of the room breathing too heavily.
They’d tell Bailey if he destroyed things—probably charge her for it. Vivian and the other guys would know. It felt childish to destroy to prove a point. So, the only option was...
To leave. This was a voluntary program. He didn’t have to stay here if they were making him do things he wasn’t ready for.
That was the answer. He’d find a way to assure Bailey everything was fine. After all, if Monica thought he could move into a bunk, what next? He’d be sent home. So, why not take that into his own hands?
He didn’t know where he’d go—not home to be a burden to Bailey. Not home to that godforsaken Oklahoma hell hole. It didn’t matter where he went. He wasn’t staying here.
He started packing his things in a rush. Shoving anything into his duffel bag with absolutely no organization whatsoever. The only thing in his mind was escape.
He didn’t know how long he’d been at it when someone knocked on his door. Probably Monica to check up on him. Not so confident, was she? “Come in,” he growled, continuing to throw his clothes into his duffel. He’d tell her he was leaving and see what she had to say about that.
“Eli...”
Eli whirled around at Vivian’s voice. She was standing in his doorway, the light haloing her like some kind of angel or sign. Something he didn’t deserve either way.
She stepped inside and the light turned normal. She took in his bags and then him. “You’re leaving?” She looked up at him and there was something like hurt in her expression. Like she cared if he left. Like she cared. And it didn’t go away. She just looked at him expectantly as if willing him to stay.
And he found himself...helpless to that. His plans evaporating into thin air. Just because of sad green eyes. “No.”
“Oh, good,” she said, her mouth curving into that pretty smile. “What are you doing then?”
He swallowed. “Moving into a bunk.”
“That’s great! Eli.” She crossed the room and took his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. “That’s great,” she said firmly. “I’ll make a cake for dessert tonight.”
“Don’t.”
She cocked her head, waiting for him to explain. But he wasn’t going to explain. He wasn’t...
She was just standing here. In his bunk with him. Touching him. She held his hand and looked at him expectantly and he didn’t know what churned inside of him then, but it sure as hell wasn’t anger. It wasn’t the desperate, pounding need to escape.
He was caught in that beam of light she always had inside of her.
This was something else he could do to prove he wasn’t who he should be. He could take advantage of Vivian standing there in his cabin looking up expectantly at him. The sharp intake of her breath when he held her gaze. He could use what was already there, because it was there no matter how much the both of them ignored it.
And it would be taking everything he was feeling out on her. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He stepped away, tugging his hand out of her grasp, but she stepped with him. Something changed in her expression and then her arms wrapped around him. A tight, friendly hug.
So tight, and just...comfort. No one had touched him like this since he’d left Bailey. She’d hugged him fierce and tight and with all her hope for him. She’d whispered that she’d loved him and he would come back whole.
He hadn’t believed her. But he’d come here, because here was safe.
But no one hugged him in this safe space. That lack of physical, caring affection hadn’t bothered him in the least. It wasn’t like he’d grown up with much of it, gone into the Navy looking for sympathy and sweet words.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, cracking a million pieces inside of him. There was a brief horrible moment where he wanted to believe her.
But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
Chapter Seven
Vivian hadn’t thought hugging Eli through. She’d only seen him looking so lost and felt like if she reached out and anchored him to place everything would settle.
He held himself tense. Like he was just seconds from falling apart. She couldn’t bear it. “Eli, change is hard.”
He pulled her arms from around him so that they dropped at her sides and stepped away. “Don’t we have dinner to prepare?”
He turned his back to her and she stood there, heart aching for him, and inappropriately wishing she could have felt that hard, rangy body against hers. He’d pushed her away, mentioned dinner, but he was standing there staring at his duffel bag.
“I came here to get away from people,” he said, his voice a scrape against the silence in the room. “To remove myself from the people I loved.”
She moved closer, reaching out to touch. She stopped herself, because he wanted to isolate himself. Wanted this aloneness. Should she be pushing herself into it? And yet, she didn’t know how to walk away from all his pain. “Why?”
He shook his head.
“You can talk to me, Eli. We’re...friends.” She wished she only felt friendly towards him, but she could pretend. Or ignore those more-than-friendly feelings anyway.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Okay.” But he was so upset, no matter how he kept it tied together. She wanted to help. She...had to offer something. Some bridge between them. He was upset about moving into a bunk. About being forced into socialization and probably a kind of camaraderie he would have had in the army.
But he came here to get away from the people he loved. He was escaping relationships with people. And though all of her motivations were different, so completely different, she knew something about leaving. If she talked about her, maybe he’d feel comfortable talking about him.
“I left home too. For different reasons, I know, but regardless of reasons, it’s complicated. Roots are complicated, whether you love them or you want to chop them up. We can’t just escape where we came from. It’s a part of us.”
He was silent, breathing a little hard as though he’d jogged somewhere. He didn’t look at her. His gaze was on the floor and that bag. And she stood behind him, desperate to offer something but not knowing
what.
“My parents did the best they could. I never gave them any credit for it.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to do the same to Bailey.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it? Older siblings. I’m the youngest too, and my parents were there—still are, but there was something about living up to Jack’s example. He went off to war. He did big things, important things, and I just ran a store. I never felt like... I came here because I wanted to do something worthwhile, like he did.”
“Wanting to do something better and not wanting to hurt the people you love are two different things.”
“I know it’s not the same. We’re not the same. But everything is...human condition, right? You can put yourself into other people’s shoes because of this thing you went through. How did you hurt your sister?”
“We had a hard life. Being away. Coming back injured and struggling, made her life harder. I’ve only ever made her life harder. So, I got away.”
“You know, I’ve been in your sister’s shoes. Only my brother was seriously injured, and he didn’t come home. He came here. He couldn’t be around us for a variety of reasons, but we worried about him, because we loved him. Not because he was a responsibility we couldn’t endure.”
“I know she doesn’t see me that way, but—”
“Stop,” Vivian said, trying to keep her tears in check. “I don’t know her, but I have been her. It doesn’t feel like a responsibility. A weight, maybe, but that weight is love, and it’s not one I’d give up in a million years of worry and hope. I wanted him to be better for himself. Not for me. I’m sure your sister wants the same for you, Eli.”
He stared at her a bit like she’d stabbed him. Then he turned away and shook his head. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I have to move into the bunk.” He stopped short, looking at his bag again. “I don’t have to.”
That some bolt of panic that had hit her when she’d walked in to see him packing swept through her, but she didn’t let it show. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t give it a shot?” she said, firmly but with enough casual nonchalance he wouldn’t feel the need to argue.
“I have a million reasons why not,” he said, frowning at her.