Sobering, she held his gaze. “Yes . . . that’s true.”
“I call those days, hitting the wall.” Reese studied her as silence swirled around them. “I think you had one of those days today.” He saw the corners of her mouth draw in, as if to hold back so many emotions that wanted to flood out of her. He wasn’t going to talk about their kiss unless Shay brought it up. Reese had to let her take the lead, let her decide what she wanted to talk about, or not. Her fingers were wrapped gently around her cup, reminding him of her fragility.
He had no idea of the kind of weight she was carrying silently by herself. Anger rose up in him over the PTSD symptoms. Those symptoms savaged a person emotionally, mentally, and physically. Depression stalked many PTSD sufferers. He wondered if it hadn’t taken Shay down, too. Given the responsibility she had, her father’s stroke, her mother dead, he couldn’t begin to comprehend the personal pressure on her. His parents were alive. They loved him. They wanted him back in their lives. Shay had no one. Except the vets. The wounded carrying the wounded.
“Yes,” she whispered, “it was one of those days.” Looking into the golden tea in the mug, she added haltingly, “my father was having a really bad day. Maybe it’s in the air.”
“I imagine he has quite a few of those.”
“He gets very bad headaches and no amount of pain meds can relieve them. So, they put him on a low dose of morphine, which knocks him out. At least then he doesn’t feel the pain. The next day, he’ll be free of the headache, but he has a nasty reaction to the morphine. He gets cranky. And of course, PTSD squirrels around with me, too. When I’m having a bad day and he’s also having one, it’s generally an emotional train wreck for both of us.”
“Like today was?”
She licked her lips and dragged in a deep breath. “Yes. Like today.”
“The guys were worried about you.”
“They’ve always been big worrywarts,” she grumbled, her expression growing soft.
“They care about you, Shay.” She closed her eyes and her brow wrinkled. Reese saw tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t going to let them fall. If she could use that strength differently, it would help her heal. But Reese understood what she was doing and why. Shay was afraid if she let go of all those dark, violent emotions she struggled to control, they would howl out of her and destroy her. He felt similarly about his own demons. Afraid he’d lose control.
And then what?
Chapter Thirteen
It was all about timing.
Four days had passed since the kiss with Shay, and they had yet to discuss it. In fairness, the last four days had been hectic as hell. Reese felt like he was the little Dutch boy plugging holes in a badly leaking dike, and he didn’t have enough fingers to stop all the leaks.
He sat in his office going over the last of the accounting information. Now, he had something to bring to Shay’s attention. As well as to her father, Ray Crawford. He wasn’t sure how either of them would take the news. But it had to be broached now, not later. There was a continuing feeling of upset among the other vets as well. Everyone was on edge because of Shay’s predicament.
Their agreed-upon morning ride to repair the fence line on Saturday yielded nothing of consequence. It all came down to getting at least one of the five massive pastures repaired so it could be leased for part of the season. The four of them had worked until dark. They were exhausted when they arrived back at the ranch. Luckily, Shay had done the cooking for them and everyone had been grateful.
Now, gathering the pages of his report on the results of his scrutiny of the accounting books, Reese slowly rose. He could hear Shay puttering out in the kitchen, cleaning up after all of the vets left after breakfast. There wasn’t a lack of work around here, that was for sure. On a ranch, there was always something that needed attention, large and small.
He walked into the kitchen, finding it sparkling once again. Shay had gone out and picked some flowers, placing them in a cobalt vase in the center of the table. Reese was struck by her woman’s sense of making a sterile place come alive and feel nurturing. None of the vets had thought about picking wildflowers to set in a vase. Warmth flooded his chest as he halted at the entrance, watching her work with quick efficiency, wiping down the long, L-shaped counter. He tried to ignore her rounded hips and long legs encased in the jeans she wore. Today, he knew Shay would be visiting her father. It was Wednesday and he knew she’d be leaving shortly after lunch.
“Got a minute?” he asked her.
Shay turned. “Oh . . . Reese. Yes . . . hold on.” She quickly finished wiping down the two aluminum sinks. Grabbing a towel, she turned. “What’s in your hand?”
“Just some information I think you need to know about,” he said, keeping his tone neutral.