Caitlin nervously eyed the three cowboys standing in front of her. She stood with Keith, one hand automatically on his walker so it wouldn't slip as he balanced on it, her other hand out to his arm in case he needed help. When she shifted her attention from Keith to them, the niggle of fear that was always simmering in the back of her mind whispered, "It's okay".
"Caity my dear, I'd like you to meet the West boys. This one over here, I'd hazard, is Heather's boy all grown up, and this is Tanner. The one beside him is—"
"Brady," the least tall one of the trio interjected, hands in his pockets. She caught his warm hazel eyes, and backed up a step, averting her gaze elsewhere.
"This is Caitlin, my home nurse," Keith added, and she nodded, trying to smile. Be polite, don't let on that you are three seconds away from melting down for no apparent reason.
"I'm Jake, and you are correct sir. I'm Heather's," Jake stepped in and shook Keith's hand. "You're our former stable manager, I take it?"
"I am indeed, son. My God, it was like Brett used a photocopier. Look at you." he exclaimed, and if it was possible, beamed wider. He was almost animated in how happy he was to see these men, and she focused on that, instead of the response she'd had to them. She turned her attention back to him, and put her hand on his shoulder. "Keith, you should sit."
He nodded and eased himself back to the bench, sighing as he did. Brady, who she had decided was the least intimidating one of the bunch, smiled uneasily and sat down beside him.
"What did you do to yourself?" he asked.
"It's my hip. It wore out. They gave me a titanium one instead."
Tanner's biceps bulged as he crossed his arms, which made her jump. She backed up beside Keith, and sat on his other side, her legs shaking from the effort to keep herself under control.
These men were not going to hurt her. No one here was her ex. She wasn't in danger, and hadn't been in danger since she'd left Abel last year. But it was there, adrenaline spiking across her skin, restricting her chest. She took a few cleansing breaths as silently as possible, the tightness in her lungs easing, the panic throbbing just under the surface.
"All those years getting thrown off horses caught up with you, didn't it?" Tanner replied, his smile quirked to one side, humour in his voice. "I remember when you busted your back. How's that doin'?"
"It healed up nice. Only twinges when we're about to get rain," Keith replied with a chuckle and smiled back. "Caity, I watched these two boys grow up, and I remember that one when he was still in his nappies."
Keith pointed to Jake, who blushed and ran a hand through his hair. It immediately disarmed him, as had Tanner smiling and reminiscing. She glanced over at Brady, who was still sitting beside Keith. He'd gone silent, his face serious, almost sad.
Their eyes met again, and he smiled tightly. Something was bothering him. He was about as tense as she was. He looked away, back to Keith, studying him.
She'd heard plenty of stories from Keith about the West boys, how much trouble they'd got into, how they'd grown into strong, fine men. Stories that involved horses more often than not, and invariably ended with someone getting in trouble, or injured. More stories about Brady, now that she thought about it, and none about Jake. Keith had been at the ranch there a long time. Obviously they had lost touch with one another.
She forced herself to clasp her hands casually in her lap, trying her best to mirror their effortless ease. She needed to push past these kneejerk initial reactions. Her therapist said it was important to try, even if it doesn't work. Be present, take interest. Keep the conversation light, and it would get easier every time.
She took a deep breath and asked. "So, you didn't grow up on the ranch, then," turning her attention to Jake.
"I left when I was around three, so I'm told, with my mom. We went to New York City. I came back last year when my dad died."
"I was sorry to hear it, boys," Keith sighed. "How is Peony? It can' have been easy for her, losin' him like that."
"She's handled it well. Keeping us all in line," Brady spoke up and gestured at Jake. "She's neck deep in wedding prep with Liz. This big lunk is marrying her."
Keith let out a happy laugh and clapped his hands to his legs. "Lizzie, gettin' married? Well that is good news. I heard she broke it off with that doctor. Never thought he was good for her, but then, you young folks will do what yer gonna," he mused. "No surprise. She's got the guts to take on a West, I think, like her momma did."
They all laughed at that, and Brady stood, fidgeting with his hands. Caitlin knew the look on his face, the nervous tic. She'd seen it on children of sick parents time and time again. Sons and daughters who needed to have that serious talk, but didn't know where to start.
It was obvious he cared deeply about the man.
"Listen, we need to get goin', lord knows what waits for us when we get back," Tanner said, eyes darting to his brother. "Keith, you need to come visit us."
"I surely should. Once I am on my feet better, I will. Peony can make some of her rhubarb cake to ease my pains."
More laughter and agreement from the men, and Keith stood as well. Brady leapt to help him up, and she blinked as she saw emotion cross both their faces before they both cleared their throats and Brady let go, Keith steady on his walker. There was more to the story of their relationship, and her heart twinged to think of what had caused that hurt.
She rummaged into her purse on a hunch, her earlier worry forgotten. Pen in hand, she found a receipt and scrawled Keith's phone number and address on it. She picked up her shopping bags, stepped around, screwed up her courage, and touched Brady on his arm. The other two men walked slowly with Keith towards the exit, so she had a moment without her patient in hearing range.
He turned to her and her stomach did a small flip as his eyes met hers. She screamed inside her head 'Stay put, push your comfort. He won't hurt you.' and straightened her spine.
"Hi," her voice wavered, and she took a deep breath. "I have something for you."
"What's this?" Brady asked.
"He doesn't get many visitors. I can see how much you all mean to him. I thought maybe—"
"He's by himself?"
She nodded. "I think he's been lonely."
Brady took the receipt, looking down at it and then back to her. There was that emotion again, and she patted his arm, surprising herself at the urge to reassure him.
"I think you care about him too?"
"He was a big part of our lives. We lost track of him, and I regret that. Thank you," he replied, carefully folding it into his jeans pocket, his eyes darting to his brothers ahead of them. "I... Maybe I should come see him soon."
With that, she removed her hand from his arm. She had maybe just overstepped. Keith was one of her favourite patients, and something about these men told her they might be what he needed to get through the last bit of recovery.
Keith had no children, no wife. A few friends who would drop by for coffee, but that was about it. She had always felt sad for him. This was an opportunity to help him at least, and she was proud of herself for not losing her cool when she did.
They caught up to Keith and the other two men. As they all said their goodbyes, she put her arm through Keith's, processing the gamut of what she had seen as they walked away. There was a lot being unsaid. Not her place to pry, but it almost felt like a reunion of family, not randomly bumping into old friends.
"Ready to head home yourself?" she asked brightly. "You've had quite a bit of walking already, we don't want to overdo it, and it's a bit of a drive back to Brightside."
Keith nodded, the same emotion she'd seen from Brady, in him. She squeezed his arm, and he took a big breath and plastered on his big smile.
"My dear, yes. I'm glad we came out today. But I'm mighty tired."
They turned and headed for the opposite exit, where Caitlin had parked his truck. He turned once as they shuffled along, watching as the three men pushed through the glass doors back out into the sunshine.
"They mean a lot to you, don't they?"
"More than you can imagine, my dear," he replied, and patted her hand resting on his forearm. "But it was a long time ago, and another life. They've done well."
He smiled again, and she let it go, knowing he wanted to shake it off, as he did when he had something hard to do. She'd seen that many times as he went through a new exercise or stretch, and she admired his tenacity to keep going, even when it hurt.
"Well, then let's go home and I'll make you some coffee before I go."
"A sound plan," he agreed, "I could use one."
-----
Caitlin levered off her shoes, dropped her bags at her table, and made her way into her bedroom, completely exhausted. Her last client had been particularly stubborn, and all she wanted to do was park her ass on the couch, eat something loaded with calories, and binge tv for the rest of the day. Thank God her visits had finished early because of her field trip with Keith taking up more of her day. That had been the most enjoyable part of it all, she thought. Especially meeting his friends, and seeing how it gave him energy, radiating all the way home, more stories about them making her laugh non-stop, now that she could put faces to names.
She also put a tally in the 'getting better' column, because she's handled her trauma response to them better than she had the last time she'd been around men like that. It was still there, the tension and firmly held panic control, but she had controlled it better, and it had taken less time for her to move on and shake it off. It was something.
She peeled off her scrubs, showered, and as she dried her hair, she looked in the mirror. Pale skin, and dark circles under her eyes looked back, and she made a face at herself. She needed a few days off, and some sun.
Her phone dinged as soon as she settled into the cushions of her couch. She picked it up. Liana was texting her.
'Want 2 go out?' it asked, and she groaned, flopping back on the cushions.
She typed back a 'No. 2 tired' knowing it would hasten the inevitable call and 'I'm coming over' protestation.
Feeling defeated, but also mildly happy at the prospect of seeing her best friend, she levered off the couch and headed for the kitchen to see what food she could scrounge up before Liana arrived. She let out a breath, standing in front of the open fridge. Leftover pasta and sauce stared back, as well as half a cucumber. It was better than nothing, so she pulled it out to the counter.
Her phone rang as she was cutting the cucumber. She tapped it absently and put it on speaker, not looking at who was calling, assuming it was Liana.
"Liana, I am not going out. I am so tired I may sleep until next week," she answered.
"Too bad buttercup, I was hoping you'd be free for dinner," came the offkey, nasal voice that made her blood run cold. Her entire body seized in panic, and she dropped the knife on the floor.
Abel.
She stabbed at the phone's screen, but missed and it slid sideways on the counter, clacking against the flour canister on the far side. Her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't pick it up, and the roar of her pulse was loud in her ears. How had he got her new number?
"Shit," she snapped, and grabbed for it again.
"All flustered? Aww, Caity, I should be flattered. You still miss me? I'm sittin' here, thinkin' of you all dressed up to go ou—" the voice guttered as she grabbed it and hit the end button as fast as she could, cutting him off.
"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck!" she screamed, and clasped her hands to her chest as she slid to the floor. The phone rang again, and she ignored it, pulling her knees up to her chest, tears streaming down her face as full-on terror ripped through her. She held herself tightly and rocked back and forth, trying to gain back some control over her body. The phone rang again and again, and each time she squeezed her eyes shut and begged it to stop, but not daring to let go of her legs to turn it off, for fear she would faint if she did.
He'd found her again. From jail. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? She didn't want anything more to do with him, couldn't he see that? She closed her eyes, the tears wet against her eyelashes and she lowered her head to her knees.
She could never, ever go back to the unpredictability. The yelling, the shoving, the twisted arms and pulled hair, violent threats. The constant berating until she was so unsure of herself she couldn't even go to the store alone, or make a decision without help.
A knock at the door startled her and she froze, blinking out of the haze of worry her brain had spiralled down. How long had she been sitting here on the kitchen floor? Another knock and a "I know you're in there, Caitlin Fenshaw, let me in. I brought take out and booze," came muffled through the wood.
Relief flooded her and she shuffled to the door and unlocked it to Liana standing there, a bottle of gin and a takeout bag from the local diner in her hands. She was dressed up. Tight jeans and a halter top barely covering her boobs, a leather jacket hitting her midriff, her makeup perfect and dramatic, as always. She took one look at Caitlin and shoved her way in the door, slamming it shut again, setting everything down and grabbing her into a hug.
"Shit. Abel? What has that asshole done?"
Caitlin didn't answer, and Liana gave her a squeeze. "Okay, Cait, okay. Just answer yes or no. Did he call you again?"
"Yes," Caitlin managed.
"Fuckity-fuck. How does he keep getting your cell number?"
She broke out into sobs again, holding onto her friend for dear life, the one solid thing she could think of to do in the face of the panic that had overtaken her completely. Again. She wasn't better, and her confidence from earlier today vanished. She focused on Liana's fruity perfume, the way her leather jacket creaked when she moved, and the gentle stroke of her hand up and down her back.
"I want to murder him. Slowly. With something dull," Liana muttered, and pulled her into the living room, snagging the takeout bag as she went. They sat on the couch, and Liana took her hands, shaking them to make Caitlin look up into her eyes.
"Cait. You're safe. He's behind bars. You know that. Deep breath honey, and tell me four things you see, right now."
Caitlin looked around, and took a deep breath, the calm returning, the pins and needles of panic receding. "I see my work bag. My books, and my yoga mat. You dressed like a hooker."
Liana pealed off in laughter. "Bitch! But fair. Three things you can smell. Come on Cait, you know the drill."
Caitlin nodded. She'd set up a routine that Liana would use if she panicked, once she was away from Abel and trying to heal. They would hold hands and Liana would ask her to find four things she could see, three things she could smell, and two things she could hear. By the time she'd answered the questions, she was usually calmer, and could then deal with what was happening. Her therapist had given her the routine to try, and it had worked wonders.
"Okay, okay. I smell that food you brought, which had better be fried chicken, the mint hand cream I used earlier, and-"
"And?"
"Your perfume," she finished.
"Two things you hear. Let's go. Foods gettin' cold."
Caitlin smiled, sniffled, and pulled her friend into a hug. "My heart beat slowing down. Your shrill voice, which is the best thing ever. I'm glad you're here. Thank you."
Liana pushed her away, laughing, the routine done. They dug into the food, which was, indeed, fried chicken.