by Ivy Jordan
I shook my head.
I was beating myself up for not seeing the signs. I had plenty of brothers that came out of the service with PTSD, including myself, even though not as severe as Xander’s. Why hadn’t I seen the signs myself?
“What can I do?” I questioned.
“Speak to Jackson first, and if he agrees, I’ll help you work with her here,” Lyla offered with a warm smile.
Jackson, the owner. Shit, I really didn’t want to bring him into it, but I knew I would have to if she were to stay.
“Okay. Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch,” I stood from my seat, leaning over the desk to shake Lyla’s hand. It was bony, cold, and surprisingly soft.
I left the office, climbed into my truck, and started to head back when I decided to call Xander for advice. As I started to dial his number, I thought about how he’d barricaded himself in the woods, away from any civilization or people for so long. What if he wasn’t doing well, or he was, and I just stirred things up with my questions?
I dialed Liam’s number instead and waited while it rang three times.
“Ya ugly son of a bitch,” Liam’s greeting was warm and playful as he answered.
“Yeah, at least I’m not a short little fuck,” I retorted with the same playful tone.
It was good to hear his voice. I had only been here a few weeks, but it felt like an eternity since I’d seen any of my SEAL brothers.
“You may have an inch or two on me, but you’re still ugly,” Liam laughed.
“You wish you were this ugly,” I sighed as I spoke, ready to get back to reality.
“What’s up? You okay there at the ranch?” he asked with concern.
“I am. It’s j-just something strange happened, and I could use some advice. How’s Xander doing these days?” I asked.
“Oh, so you need advice from Xander, but you call me?” Liam snorted.
I explained what was going on, giving the shortest version possible.
“I just thought maybe Xander could help me help her,” I stated.
“Sure. No, he’s doing great; he and Bailey are happy, and he’s better than he’s ever been,” Liam reported.
“That’s great. Is he still in therapy?” I questioned.
“As far as I know, yes. I think that will be a part of his life from here on out, ya know,” Liam sighed.
“Of course,” I replied.
“So, this girl, you two have a thing in the past when you knew her?” he questioned.
I was silent. My hesitation caused Liam to let out a laugh.
“Yeah, you had a thing,” he chuckled.
I was blushing, and even though I knew he couldn’t see it, I knew he knew.
“I just really want to help her,” I admitted.
“Call Xander. He’d be happy as hell to hear from you, and happier to help,” he added before we said our goodbyes.
I dialed Xander, and when he answered, my gut twisted in knots. He sounded great, amazing really. I hated to bring up the past, but I knew he’d have the best advice on what I should do.
“Don’t let up, but don’t push,” he said, after hearing my story and what little I knew of Candace’s.
“I have a therapist here; she’s really good,” I replied, thinking of Lyla. She’d been given amazing reviews by Theo, Jackson, and a couple of the guys I’d had a chance to talk to at the ranch.
“Sounds like she needs help, much more than you can give alone,” Xander said softly.
I knew he was right.
“But, it also sounds like she’s in good hands with you. She needs someone familiar. Maybe that will help ease her out of whatever this is, help her trust sooner,” Xander added.
“I hope so,” I sighed.
Before we hung up, I heard about his life, how well it was going, and promised him that I would get Candace all the therapy I could. I told him I’d keep him updated, and thanked him, clicking the phone off and shoving it into my jacket pocket.
Jackson pulled in, his diesel truck rattling beside mine. My stomach twisted again, knowing that this was as good a time as any to tell him about Candace. She’d been there nearly a week already without permission, and any longer would risk my position at the ranch.
“Hey, Jackson,” I called out as he climbed out of his truck.
I walked towards him, extending my hand and introducing myself like he’d never met me before. He smiled, half-chuckled, and shook my eager hand.
“I remember you. Just because you haven’t been here long doesn’t mean you didn’t make an impression already,” he grinned.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that and wasn’t ready to explore it. I could only hope it was good because I was going to need him on my side.
“I need to talk to you, get your advice, if you have a minute,” I stammered.
Fuck, this was hard.
My hands began to sweat as I rubbed them against the denim of my jeans. I watched Jackson’s eyes follow my movements, curious, strangely cool.
“I’ve always got time,” he smirked, something that I knew was a lie. The man was always busy.
I blurted out the events of Friday night and how things had gone since then. He listened, not saying a word as I continued to rattle about how I knew her, why it meant so much to me to help her, and why we hadn’t called the cops.
“She’s scared. Something bad happened to her—that much I know for sure—I just don’t know what,” I admitted.
“And you don’t think she’s in any kind of trouble, like the kind that would follow her to the ranch and tarnish our good name?” he questioned.
I shook my head. “No, sir. I don’t think she is. I just think she’s scared and hurt,” I replied.
“It’s not normally our practice to have a woman in a man’s cabin, but under the circumstances, I think it may be better for her recovery,” Jackson stated.
A weight lifted from my shoulders, fearful he’d make me move her, or worse, send me packing with her with nowhere for either of us to go.
“Yes, sir,” I thanked him.
“She has to get therapy. And you’re gonna have to have something to report soon, where she came from, what happened that night, and what, if anything, she has following her,” he said sternly.
“Of course,” I agreed.
I thanked him profusely, shaking his hand eagerly, and showing off the grin I had spread across my face.
“Just don’t make me regret this,” he warned with a smile.
“You can trust me. I’ll find out, get her on her feet, and make sure it doesn’t interfere with my work,” I promised.
Back at the cabin, Candace was still in the same spot I’d left her, but she had given up the blanket pulled up around her body.
I was on cloud nine, ecstatic that I wouldn’t have to send her away, even though I knew I’d have gone with her if it were the case.
“How are you feeling?” I asked cheerfully as I moved towards her.
I watched her flinch as I closed in, trying hard not to invade any of her personal space.
“How about you come out with me and check out the ranch,” I suggested.
Her eyes widened, her skin tone paled, and her head shook quickly in refusal.
“The barn’s just a short walk away; we could feed the animals,” I pushed a little, but not too hard as Xander suggested.
She shook her head again.
I remembered when we were kids; she’d found a litter of kittens behind our foster house. She’d sneak back there to feed them, play with them, and love them as often as she could. The foster parents, Wilma and Don, hated animals, especially cats, and we both knew they’d do away with them if they found ‘em back there in their weed-infested yard.
One day, they did disappear, but they were growing older and wandering off, and I convinced Candace they’d gone off and found a safe home, even though I didn’t believe that to be true.
“There’s a barn cat that just had kittens. Last I saw, they had their eyes open
ed,” I tempted.
I watched her squirm, her eyes shift, and her demeanor start to soften from the previous tense state it had been in.
I knew it was tough for her to resist the temptation I was dangling in front of her. I smiled eagerly, realizing that she was starting to give up her resistance.
“Please, we can bring them some warm milk,” I offered.
With that, she smiled. Even though faint, it was a smile. She leaned up from her spot, nodded in my direction, and scribbled ‘yes’ on her whiteboard.
Chapter 8
Candace
It felt as though an elephant had been sitting on my chest for days. My bones ached for mercy as I moved from the corner of the couch to its edge. Luke looked concerned, which both comforted me and added to my anxiety. I hated being this way. I wanted desperately to be normal, whatever that meant.
“Maybe a hot shower would make you feel better before we go?” Luke suggested.
I nodded and pushed my way up slowly from the couch. I could tell he wanted to help but was afraid to touch me. I didn’t blame him. I knew if he had tried to reach out, I probably would’ve just scurried back to my secluded corner.
My knees were stiff and hated to bend as I took my first steps towards the bathroom. I hadn’t been up much the last couple days, and my body was showing signs of the neglect as I reached the bathroom.
The door closed, leaving me alone in the tiny room, away from anyone’s glares, stares, or judgments, except for my own, which were often the worst ones.
My eyes were sunken, dark, and made me look much older than twenty-nine. Oh hell, I was turning thirty soon, just months away. What had I done with my life? I knew what I’d done. I knew exactly what. Thrown it away, wasted it, ruined it.
My chest tightened, and that familiar heaviness began to take over as a soft knock on the door pulled me from my anxiety.
“I thought you might need your bag,” Luke’s voice was kind and soft.
I turned the knob, still unwilling, unable to speak. I reached out through the small opening of the door and took the bag from his hand. I was shaking as I pulled it into the bathroom, quickly shutting and locking the door to hide me back inside, away from the world.
My breathing picked up pace, and I could feel an attack starting. I leaned against the cool tile, shut my eyes, and drowned out the images of Damien with those of Luke.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Luke’s smile. Deep Breath in. Deep breath out. Luke’s kind eyes. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Luke’s kiss.
Oh, how I remembered Luke’s kiss. It was the last good thing I’d tasted in my life and would probably be the last. I couldn’t think of that, not now. I’d have plenty of time to dwell on my wrong turns in life later, sitting in a prison cell.
I stripped out of my clothes, taking notice of every inch of my body in the long mirror on the bathroom door. I was skinny, too skinny, and my skin too pale.
The bruises that riddled my body, reminding me of that horrid night, had started to fade. They were ugly, a greenish yellow where they were once bright purple. I tried to count the days since that night, but I was lost in other thoughts, of Luke, the kittens, his kindness, and how I’d miss him so.
The water was warm against my skin, the soap clingy and thick. Everything smelled of strawberries as I washed, but to my nose, the stench of my rot was stronger, no matter how hard I scrubbed.
The jeans Luke had bought me were loose, but fit well enough. I slid into one of the new shirts, sat on the toilet while putting on my socks and shoes, and took another deep breath to calm myself.
I turned the hairdryer onto my hair, letting my head fall forward between my knees to dry underneath. I was growing dizzy, and the heat from the dryer was beginning to make me sweat, wasting the time I spent on showering. I flipped my hair back. It was dry enough; I turned off the dryer. I thought I heard Luke talking outside the door. I leaned closer, listened, but nothing. Maybe I was hearing things.
I peeked out, looking around carefully before I exited the safety of the bathroom. Luke came around the corner from the kitchen to the living room where I stood, still scared that someone else may be there. He was alone, easing my stress, but he had his cell phone in his hand. He quickly shoved it into his pocket as I stared in its direction. Who was he speaking to? Maybe that doc friend of his, Theo?
“You look nice,” he smiled, reaching for his keys on the table near me.
I flinched, taking a step back.
“Are you ready to go?” he questioned.
I picked up the marker and the whiteboard, scribbled ‘yes’ on it, and then tucked it under my arm.
He smiled warmly. I appreciated that he was so patient with me, that even though I knew he couldn’t understand, he didn’t try to force me to talk. I just wasn’t ready. Every time I tried to speak, my throat swelled, my eyes strained, and I had to fight back tears.
We walked to the barn, me as far away from Luke as I felt safe. He gave me my space, never trying to inch his way closer to me. At the barn entrance, a woman stood there, tall, lean, her hair tight in a bun like a familiar teacher from middle school.
“Candace, this is Lyla,” Luke stammered.
I stared in his direction, trying hard to find a way, a reason to trust him. He never said we’d be meeting anyone.
“I have to run to the office, just for a few minutes. Lyla said she’d bring you in to see the kittens. Is that okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with as much anxiety as I felt.
I turned to Lyla. She smiled. She seemed nice enough, and I felt guilty about keeping Luke from his work.
I nodded.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, and then quickly turned back towards his cabin.
“Hi, Candace,” Lyla smiled.
I offered a weak smile back, all I could muster.
“Luke told me you don’t speak. I’m okay with you using your whiteboard,” she added.
I clenched the board tightly under my arm. I wondered what Luke told her about me and about why I didn’t speak. She opened the barn door, and suddenly, my only thoughts were of getting inside to see the kittens.
Lyla flipped a light switch, illuminating the entire barn. I noticed her fingernails were long, perfectly manicured, and painted a pale pink. I looked down at mine, mostly bitten off, a hint of red polish still clinging to my thumbnail, and dirt underneath. They were dirty, like me.
“I brought some milk,” Lyla said, reaching into her designer handbag and pulling out a small saucer and a single serving container of milk, like the ones they passed out at school.
“Would you like to feed them?” she asked.
I pulled out the whiteboard and scribbled ‘yes’ on it with large letters.
She handed me the contents in her hand, careful not to touch me as I reached for them.
I followed her towards the back of the barn. She took a seat on a bale of hay and then started calling for the cats with a strong southern slang. “Here kitty-kitty.”
The mother appeared from what seemed to be from behind the wooden planks that were used for the wall of the barn, and then small, furry kittens, one, three, six, all followed behind her.
Their tiny mews melted my heart, sending me to my knees to be closer to their tiny hearts. I poured the milk in the saucer and watched as they all fought to get a lap. I poured some in my hand, allowing the mother to get her share. She was frail, her belly sagged from where the kittens suckled her teats, and her eyes looked tired. She was a good mother. Not like mine.
The kittens all thanked me with purrs and pressing their warm bodies against my legs. Their fur was so soft between my fingers, their little nails, even though sharp, were welcomed as they climbed up my back. I started whispering sweet talk to the little ones as I gave each one a warm snuggle.
Tears filled my eyes, my heart overwhelmed by the tiny creatures, so innocent, so trusting.
“Are you okay?” Lyla asked, leaning forward to offer comfort as she spoke.
“Yes. I am okay,” I spoke, my voice shocking to my own ears.
Lyla looked pleased. She leaned back, watching me as I played with the kittens. Her eyes weren’t judgmental, but they were studying me hard. I should’ve minded, having her examining me like Doc Theo, but I didn’t. Every time my anxiety started to creep up on me, one of the kittens would nibble on my finger or would climb to my neck and nuzzle under my hair. They did more than simply distract me; they soothed me.
“Luke’s back. It was nice to meet you, Candace. I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay with you,” Lyla said, standing from her bale of hay.
“That would be okay,” I said softly, offering a genuine smile to her as she turned to walk towards the large barn door where Luke stood.
I could hear them talking, but couldn’t make out all of their words. I did hear Luke announce louder than he probably intended, “She speaks?”
He seemed happy, his smile spreading wide across his face. I was happy too, even if only for that brief moment.
Chapter 9
Luke
Monday morning rushed in like an unexpected tornado, my phone ringing every ten minutes. There was a lot to do, and plenty of that ‘to do’ list was centered on Candace.
Theo called, wanting an update from the weekend; Jackson called, asking if I’d been able to find out the nature of Candace’s situation yet, and Lyla called, asking me to come in and meet with her about Candace that morning.
Since Thursday morning in the barn with Lyla, Candace had been talking again, even though it wasn’t often, or about anything pertaining to her life, her situation, or why she was on the road that night. I didn’t ask her; Theo had warned me not to push, as well as Xander, and Lyla, so I didn’t. I waited for her to open up to me, but that hadn’t happened yet. I was beginning to wonder if it ever would.
Candace visited the kittens every day with Lyla by her side. I wasn’t sure what they talked about, if anything, but I hoped today I’d find out.
“I’ve got to get to work. Do you need anything before I go?” I asked.