I tightened the cinch around Willow’s chest so the saddle didn’t slide and send Tess slipping over into the dirt when she got on her later. We’d been working up to this moment for weeks now, slowly building her trust with horses again while also working on trusting herself.
I was so proud of the progress she’d made in the last six weeks. Proud of her period. She never gave up, never let her demons define her, and after the hell that sick fuck Jeremy put her through, it was a miracle. I didn’t know if I would’ve made it out of a situation like that alive.
But that was probably more so because I didn’t know when to shut my mouth.
I glanced over Willow’s back, finding Emmett carrying a pair of two-by-fours into the barn that was getting converted into lodging for my veteran outreach program.
Stupid biceps. Stupid tattoos. Stupid fucking man.
“Fuck him,” I murmured under my breath, adjusting the stirrups with more force than I needed. Willow huffed, and I told myself it was a huff of agreement.
It’d been five weeks since he randomly quit therapy with me, saying that it wasn’t working, and a month since he ruined my birthday. Well, eighteen days, but who’s counting? Not me. No. I didn’t count things when it came to men unless it was counting their abs.
But damn, did Emmett Hayes know how to carry a two-by-four.
My head fell against Willow’s side, and I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “You’re pathetic. A disgrace to feminism,” I muttered to myself.
It didn’t seem to matter how much Emmett broke my heart over the years; there was always a stubborn little piece of it that kept beating solely for him.
A piece I buried so deep that no one knew about it. No one knew I’d been pining after him like an idiot since I was nine. That, for as long as I could remember, he was who I wanted.
I tried to move past it. I made myself date, not wanting to miss out on experiences growing up, but he was always there. Emmett was always at the periphery of my heart with his quiet beauty, and now his tormented mind.
I remembered the first time I saw him after he came home for good two years ago, and I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. I sensed it before anyone else did. I could see through his bullshit easily. And I’d just finished a rotation at the Veterans Affairs hospital, so I pulled him aside to give some tips for transitioning back into civilian life, but he shut me down instantly, growing defensive and cold, snapping at me in a way he never had before.
But I didn’t let it hurt me like I would’ve when I was younger, because I had the knowledge that he was suffering and didn’tknow what to do with it besides lash out. He was hiding behind walls he put up for a reason, desperate to protect himself.
I liked to picture those walls as bricks. You could pull brick by brick down slowly until a person let you in completely—it was what I was doing with Tess. But Emmett’s walls weren’t made of brick. They were steel traps reinforced with titanium.
So I was ecstatic when he finally agreed to therapy after watching him hardly exist for two years. But no matter what I tried—a psychological cannon, a bulldozer, a bomb—those walls didn’t come down, and he up and quit after only four sessions.
And then a week later, he turned around and told me it wasn’t working because I was a shitty therapist.
And thathurt. It hurt more than he could’ve possibly known.
I told myself he didn’t mean it, that I’d just pushed him too far like always, but I couldn’t even bring myself to speak to him the pain was still so raw.
“Hey,” Tess said.
I switched mental gears, pushing Emmett out of my mind. This was Tess’s time, and she deserved to have me fully present. “Hey, bug.” I ran a hand down Willow’s neck. “Think you’re ready to ride today?”
She glanced at Willow and reached for her fingers before stopping herself. I smiled. The finger picking was a habit we were trying to break. Couldn’t have a big flashy diamond with busted nails; that was just a bad look.
“Yeah,” she cleared her throat. “About that…”
My eyes narrowed, taking inventory of her. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her face was pale, almost clammy. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t ride Willow.”
I glanced at the horse, surprised. I thought Tess would’ve gotten over her fear of her by now. “That’s okay,” I said, not wanting to make her feel bad. Tess had a real problem withpeople pleasing, and I wasn’t about to let her feel guilty or like she was letting me down in any way for not being ready. “We can always try again next week.”
She swallowed roughly. “I can’t ride her next week either.” She chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers wiggling at her sides. “I can’t ride her for nine months.”
My heart screeched to a stop. “What?”
Her eyes met mine, and she squinted like she was bracing for impact. “I’m pregnant…?”
Willow’s lead fell out of my hand. My gaze fell to her stomach. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
