“Were you able to tell your parents what happened?”
Giving a shake of his head, he said, “No. The divorce was my path to hell. I went down hard after that. I stopped being a good leader, an officer. The Marine Corps told me to suck it up, but I couldn’t. Eventually, they told me I needed to resign my commission. To leave . . . They never said it was because of my PTSD, but it was. They didn’t want it diagnosed so I could get financial benefits to help me get back on my feet.”
Wincing, Shay saw the utter devastation in his eyes, in his low, rough voice.
“And that’s when you went into this two-year spiral?”
“Yes.”
“I hate that vets have to pay twice for serving their country. We go into combat, come out with PTSD and memories we’ll never forget. And then we come home and no one cares. It’s a kick in the teeth,” Shay muttered defiantly.
Dragging in a ragged breath, Reese gazed at her disgruntled expression. “If it’s any consolation, coming here has helped me more than you’ll ever know, Shay.” He looked around the quiet kitchen and then held her gaze. “You have no idea how much you’re helping me and the others. I wish I had the words to share it with you.”
She gave him a slight nod. “I see you changing daily, Reese. All the guys growing . . . blooming . . . starting to take their lives back. You have no idea how good that makes me feel.” She touched the area where her heart lay. “It’s healing to me, too. All of you give me hope, actually.”
She saw Reese’s confused look. “Over the past year since I returned, the other three guys have been so helpful to me. I might have to deal with an abusive father, but when I come home here”—she gestured around the kitchen—“Garret, Noah, and Harper love me like long-lost brothers, each in his own way. They’re always respectful, and caring. It’s great to be treated with warmth and respect.”
“That’s good,” Reese said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re like Leslie. You deserve nothing but good to happen to you.”
Chapter Ten
Reese rode Smoke the gray gelding along the fence line on the late June morning. It was barely sunrise, the golden sun slanting across the valley while a robin chirped from a nearby fence post as he rode toward it.
Low-hanging fog twisted here and there across the flat grasslands. The peace and quiet were a salve to his broken soul. His gloved hand rested on the leather chaps across his thigh as his gaze continued down the line of rusted barbed wire. It, too, should be replaced, but he knew that wouldn’t happen for a long, long time. The barbed wire had originally been strung seventy years ago, from what Shay had told him.
Shay. Every time he got around her, his body took off with yearning. His heart. Hell, his heart was fully involved with her and he’d never kissed her! They’d established a good, close friendship and Reese now looked forward to getting up at night, meeting her out in the kitchen to have tea and talk with her from time to time. For whatever reason, they were good for one another and he ached to do something more about it. But what? Every day, he was proving his self-worth to her, to the ranch, and to the other vets. He had a better feeling about himself because he and Steve Whitcomb were hammering out a complex schedule for the arena-raising that was taking place in two weeks. Steve had embraced him like a brother.
It felt good to be wanted. Respected. He was slowly showing everyone that he could be responsible and reliable. That he could work and finish what he started. Even his symptoms were not bothering him as much.
As Shay had recommended, he’d gone to see Dr. Taylor Douglas, the physician’s assistant who was working on a study of PTSD with another physician. She had him on an adaptogen for thirty days, which halted the leaking of the hormone cortisol into his bloodstream. The anxiety had stopped in its tracks and it had shaken him. The doctor had laughed and said it was supposed to happen that way. Said he wouldn’t have that anxiety ever come back unless he was in some kind of high stress trauma again. And if he was, he could take the adaptogen once more and stop the cortisol from leaking into his bloodstream 24/7.
Reese hadn’t felt so good in such a long time that he couldn’t remember feeling quite like this. The sway of the gelding beneath him, the cool Wyoming morning, the hush of nature surrounding him, all served the new sense of peacefulness that resided within him.