“How’s that?” she asked.
“My pills.”
She shook one of the painkillers into her hand and passed it over with the glass. “Start with this.”
“Fuck,” Roman said in one long, slow breath. But he swallowed it and lay back against the cushions. “You can go now.”
She snorted. “And who’s going to let your doggies outside? You see, this is what I’m talking about. You need help, my friend.”
“In twenty minutes,” he said, “I’ll be leaping tall buildings in a single bound. He can pee then.”
“Forget it.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, Sadie. Come on, Chaos. Let’s go outside!”
Chaos ran to the glass door leading onto the porch, slipped on the hardwood and crashed into it. He got to his feet, shook his head, then jumped up against it, whining in excitement.
Sadie limped over, wagging her tail, a big Lab grin on her wide face.
“Good doggies,” she said, opening the door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
* * *
Within minutes, Roman began to feel the effects.
The tightness in his lower back eased, which let him relax the chokehold he had on his reclined posture. He pictured his skeleton, the spicules of bone and cartilage that battled each other like children playing war with sticks. Then he imagined molecules of warmth bubbling through his veins, settling into those shrieking war zones, attaching to throbbing nerve endings like tiny balls of cotton batting, or balloons, or jellyfish, bobbing in the plasma sea.
Bob, bounce, flutter, drift.
The red, angry shards of pain faded to pink, the way the scar on his palm had formed when he’d sliced it with the bread knife. He exhaled in gratitude.
If only the bones of his hip could form a scar. Instead, every day, the weapons grew sharper, more brittle, with no way to dull the blades but to wrap his brain in drugs and distract himself.
He hated that the girl had seen him like this.
The porch door crashed open and what sounded like hundreds of paws scrambled and clattered over the scratched hardwood.
“Treats are in here, Chaos! Sadie knows. Come on, you two.” She led them to the pantry, where she’d found the bin of freeze-dried liver bits.
He couldn’t see them without turning his head, so he just listened.
“Sit,” she commanded. Then: “Good girl, Sadie! Chaos, sit.”
He smiled to himself. Chaos didn’t have that much self-control yet.
But then, they surprised him.
“Good boy, good boy, what a smart boy you are!”
More whining and claws, and then the sound of crunching and smacking. He felt the couch move and he opened his eyes.
Jamie was perched on the upholstered arm, carefully avoiding his legs. “You look a little less hostile. Feeling better?”
He thought for a minute. Having the pain lift was like watching sunshine break through the clouds after a storm. “Half as good as I want. Ten times better than I was.”
“Not ready to polka,” Jamie said, “but a big improvement. So, tell me, what’s the deal with you?”
A noise sounded at the front door.
Chaos growled, then leaped to his feet. Sadie followed him, her tail wagging.
“You expecting someone?” the girl asked.
“No,” Roman said. But he knew who it was.
The lock clicked over, the door opened, and Jonathan walked in.
“Dad?”
* * *
So, the cranky man had a son. A handsome son who cared about him enough to be concerned about the presence of a stranger.
“Excuse me?” he said. “I didn’t realize my dad had friends.”
Jamie went forward, her hand extended. “Pretty sure he doesn’t. I’m Jamie Vaughn. From the ranch on the other side of the ridge.”
“Jonathan Byers.” He had a cool, firm grip. He went to the couch and knelt at Roman’s side. “Dad, are you okay?”
“Fine, fine,” Roman said, somewhat indistinctly. “Just my fucking leg.”
“Nice, Dad.” He shot an apologetic look at Jamie.
She laughed. “I’ve heard worse, trust me.”
Jonathan nudged Roman’s shoulder. “What pills have you taken?”
The man snorted.
“He took one of these.” She tossed Jonathan the pill vial and tipped her head at Roman. “What’s wrong with him? He’s playing tough guy, but he’s in rough shape.”
“Football injury,” Roman said with a growl. His eyes closed.
Glancing at the wall of photographs she’d noticed earlier, Jonathan beckoned her out of his father’s earshot.
She followed, looking again at the dusty framed photos. The one actor, the girl, she’d died, hadn’t she?
Then it clicked. Memories trickled in, pushing aside the sympathy she’d begun to feel.
“The Vasquez Rocks accident.”
“He was an executive producer.” Jonathan exhaled, then scratched his chin. “He doesn’t like people to know.”
“No shit.” A film crew working on a project near Agua Dulce had been involved in a catastrophic accident. A chunk of sandstone had collapsed beneath the set, resulting in numerous injuries, including the death of a girl working her first job as an extra.
Jamie’d been waiting tables in L.A. along with several aspiring actors when it had happened, and rumors had run wild. Media had speculated that budgetary issues had led to corners cut, rules bent, and safety measures being bypassed. She didn’t recall any reports of any producers or directors being injured. Only of their negligence.
Jonathan’s lip quirked up in a sad half-smile. “They didn’t think he’d ever walk again. It’s a miracle he’s as mobile as he is.”
Most of her friends had been desperate enough to take any acting job that might lead to a break. Unsafe working conditions, sexual harassment, demeaning roles, it didn’t matter if it brought them exposure.
And there was always someone willing to exploit that desperation. She slanted a look at the now dozing man.
“Too bad everyone wasn’t so lucky.”
“He wasn’t at fault.”
“Okay.”
“He wasn’t.” Jonathan spat the words out as if they tasted of ash. “His colleagues threw him under the bus. The media needed a scapegoat, and by the time he was able to defend himself, it was too late. His so-called friends disappeared. My mother left him. It wasn’t his fault, but that woman’s death nearly destroyed him.”
Dead was dead. Was she supposed to feel bad for him because he survived? “Yeah, I’m sure it was rough,” she said finally.
Jonathan looked toward his father, his expression unreadable. He was quiet for a long minute before continuing. “He had a broken arm, three broken ribs, and a crushed pelvis, but the paramedics had to drag him off her body. He was trying to do CPR on her.”
She winced. She didn’t want to hear his sob story. Everyone had one, after all. He could have stayed and fought. Or he could have remade himself, started over. No one had forced him to become a foulmouthed, bad-tempered recluse.
“I hoped this place would give him a fresh start,” Jonathan said, echoing her own thoughts. “He got away from the movie industry, but I guess it wasn’t enough.”
Jamie moved toward the door, took the knob in her hand, then stopped, looked at the bluegrass and vine maple and brambles beyond the window. “He can’t handle the pup on his own,” she said. “I’ll help, but he has to ask. My card’s on the table.”
Haylee was going to freak.
But she had to offer. For the puppy.
Chapter Eighteen
Mercury’s in Virgo. Time to sweat the small stuff.
—Jamie’s horoscope
Jamie was playing with a couple of golden retrievers who were boarding while their owners were in Hawaii when the door to the kennel office opened.
“Looking good, Jamie.” Haylee leaned against the frame and took a sip from her water bottle, observing
them.
“Thanks.” Max dropped a ball at Jamie’s feet. She bent down, picked it up, and threw it to the far end of the yard, feeling self-conscious. Maisie joined her pal, both of them romping past in a blur of shining fur and joy. Being around the big, friendly dogs soothed her ruffled spirit, but she missed Chaos and worried about how he was doing.
She was struggling with a kind of emotional whiplash about Roman Byers, too. Until she’d realized who he was, she’d had a kind of bemused sympathy for the crotchety recluse. The powerful industry mogul who’d run roughshod over the needs of his workers, however, had inspired disgust.
She’d gotten Huck to dig for more information about the accident and he confirmed that Jonathan had been telling the truth. Now, she was ashamed that she’d so quickly swallowed the media misrepresentation. Roman wasn’t a fun guy. But he wasn’t the villain they’d made him out to be, either. He had reason to be bitter.
She rubbed her hand against her jeans to get the dog drool off. “Did you need something?”
She doubted Haylee wanted her on anything but scut work, and couldn’t blame her for that. If she hadn’t been showing off for everyone, Chaos never would have gotten away on her and gone after the livestock. So much for her brilliant plan to impress Haylee with her training skills.
Naturally, Gideon had been there to witness the Jamie-fail, too. Maximum embarrassment, that seemed to be her path in life.
Thank God he’d stepped in, of course. She shuddered to think of Chaos beneath those sharp hooves, or the horses themselves being injured in their panicked flight.
He’d saved her bacon, no doubt.
But why couldn’t he have been there when the puppy was behaving himself? See how well he was learning his basic obedience? She was doing a good job, she knew it.
But no one saw that.
“How much longer will you be here?” Haylee asked.
Jamie glanced at her watch. “A few minutes. I’ve got cleanup to do after that though. Why? What’s up?”
“Olivia and Gayle are in the stables. They want us to join them for a quick meeting.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll leave these two in the yard and do the cleaning after. Do you know what it’s about?” A frisson of unease tightened her spine. Something was clearly up. “This isn’t pink slip time, is it?”
The laugh she tagged onto her question sounded as fake as it felt. Olivia and Haylee were her bosses, after all. And Gayle was head of human resources at the hospital.
But Haylee’s smile reassured her. “Something about Apollo. They want our input.”
Relief sent a breath whooshing through her. “God, don’t scare me like that. Wait. Both of us? They want my input, too?” Her spirits lightened even more at the inclusion.
“I’ll let them explain.”
They left the kennel yard and made their way to the stables. Haylee had her hand on her back again and her gait had taken on a slight side-to-side motion in the past week or so.
Gayle was waiting for them at the stable entrance.
“What’s up, Gayle?” Jamie said. She’d always found the quiet Asian woman a tad unnerving, probably because of her background in psychology. Jamie’d known her share of psychologists, counselors, therapists, and social workers over the years and had learned to be cautious around them lest they perceive more than she wanted to reveal of herself.
A person who could write life-altering recommendations based on a ten-minute interaction was a person to be feared.
But she wasn’t a bratty foster kid anymore, Jamie reminded herself. Gayle worked primarily in administration now, and she wasn’t talking about her anyway.
Still, if only she’d have the courtesy to grow a zit on her nose or swear when she stubbed a toe or come out of the bathroom with toilet tissue on her shoe, it would help Jamie’s comfort level with her a lot.
Gayle cleared her throat. “I recently had a conversation with a community health nurse regarding the hospital’s outpatient mental health program. I think the ranch has something to offer.”
“Sounds great,” Jamie said, waiting for more.
Gayle’s almond-shaped eyes got brighter as she explained. Apparently the program coordinator was concerned about one of her patients, a man suffering a major depressive episode. She wondered if spending time on the ranch, with the animals, might speed his progress.
Gayle led them to Apollo’s stall, where they found Olivia.
“Hey, old boy.” Gayle fished a treat out of her pocket.
Apollo walked slowly from the back of the stall to greet them, his steps lumbering and hesitant, his head low with defeat.
“Talk about major clinical depression,” Jamie said.
“Gideon had Tyler switch up his feed, but he’s still really struggling,” Olivia said.
Jamie reached over the stall door and patted Apollo’s bony head. “I’d love to help, but I’m not sure how. And speaking of Gideon, he’s the one you should be talking to about this, not me. Right?”
Jamie glanced at Haylee, who was suddenly fascinated with her fingernails. Gayle’s lip twitched, and Olivia bent her face toward the horse.
“Uh-oh. What am I missing here?”
“Again with the paranoia,” Haylee murmured. “Listen up, my friend.”
Olivia left the stall to stand next to Gayle, then reached out to smooth a strand of ebony hair off Gayle’s cheek. Gayle caught her hand and smiled at her.
There was an easy, unconscious grace in their companionship. Gayle and Olivia had been together the whole time Jamie had been on the ranch, and the two were like an old married couple, kinder to each other, in fact, than most straight pairs Jamie had known.
“Gayle thinks that spending time with a horse like Apollo might help this man,” Olivia said. “He can brush him, talk to him, just be with him. It would give him something to do, someone to connect to on a deeper emotional level, without fear of judgment. Horses are good that way. The increased attention might help Apollo, too.”
“I get that,” Jamie said. Who did she turn to but Nash when she was upset, especially about Gideon? The gentle gelding always listened, and she always came back from a ride feeling better.
Gayle offered the horse another pellet, but he only sniffed it and turned his head away. “The relationship between humans and horses has a neurological basis, a kind of reciprocal limbic resonance. Through becoming attuned to horses again, people with mental illness can gain awareness of their own emotions, and build empathy to the emotional states of others. We call it equine therapy. You guys already know what I’m talking about.”
Olivia stroked Apollo’s long nose with smooth, easy motions over and over, and the horse’s eyes drifted to half-mast. “We’ve all seen it. We’ve all experienced it.”
Haylee nodded. “Humans were meant to live with animals. We’re not whole without them.”
“Totally, man,” Jamie said. The conversation had taken an academic, ethereal turn that made her squirm. “This is feeling a little drum-circle to me. We don’t have to hold hands and talk about our vaginas now, do we?”
“And the moment is gone.” Haylee punched her arm lightly. “It sounds like a good idea to me.”
Olivia and Gayle exchanged glances.
“We want Gideon to supervise the patient,” Gayle said.
“Makes sense,” Jamie said. “But he’s pretty distracted right now. I assume you know what’s going on with him?”
“Of course,” Olivia said. “That’s partly what this is about. We’ve been brainstorming how best to show our support, but he’s not making it easy.”
“Tell me about it,” Jamie said glumly. “If I hadn’t accidentally overheard him talking to his kid, I’d never have known.”
“Such a moron.” Haylee kicked at a piece of straw. “I mean, I love the guy. And believe me, I sympathize. But I can’t believe he won’t talk to you about it. What’s his problem?”
“He’s a douche-canoe?” Jamie suggested. Tears started to prickle behind her
eyes. If anyone would understand the challenges Gideon was facing, it would be Haylee.
“We all care about him, hon.” Olivia touched her arm gently. “He’s his own worst enemy right now. He’s spending too much time alone, brooding, waiting. It’s hard to watch. It’s hard to see you hurting too, Jamie.”
Jamie swallowed. Her feelings for Gideon weren’t a secret, but she wasn’t sure how to respond to their collective pity.
“For almost two years,” she burst out, “we talked about everything. We were so close. I thought . . . I thought . . . well. I was wrong. Now his life is complicated and he’s avoiding me. Whose life isn’t complicated? I hate him!”
Olivia stroked her back, the same way she’d stroked Apollo’s nose. “You love him.” Her voice was soft and warm, like oil smoothed onto aching limbs.
“And he doesn’t feel the same way.” Jamie leaned into her. “It’s ruining everything between us, but I can’t help myself. I don’t know what to do. I want to make it stop. I just want to go back to how things were before I noticed how good he smells and how gentle he is with the horses and how hot he looks with a tiny kitten against his chest.”
Haylee gave a half-smile. “You’ve got it bad.” She looked between her aunt and Gayle. “You want to tell her or should I?”
“Go ahead,” Olivia said.
“Here’s the deal, James.” Haylee turned to her and spoke quickly, as if afraid Jamie was going to take off on her. “The patient is Roman Byers. I believe you’re acquainted with him through his puppy.”
Jamie’s jaw dropped. Heat rushed into her cheeks. “What the—? Oh, that Huck. I’m gonna tear him a new one.”
“No, you won’t,” Olivia said mildly. “Come on, Jamie. It’s my ranch. Nothing happens here that I don’t know about. Continue, Haylee.”
“His son is worried about him. He called us requesting, begging actually, for you to help train the puppy. Apparently they’re very impressed with your abilities.”
Jamie shoved her hands into her pockets. “Yeah, about that . . .”
“Geez, James.” Haylee lifted her arms and then flopped them against her thighs. “You might have mentioned that Chaos needs specialized training. I would have understood.”
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