to lose by writing to her? If she’s already gone, you lose nothing. If there’s a chance she stuck around, it could tip the scales in your favor if she knew you were sorry. If she knew that you still, well, love her. That is, if you do love her.”
More than anything.
“What if she doesn’t write back?”
“Again,” said Dr. Warren, “what will have you lost by trying?”
“Nothing,” murmured Colt.
“Promise me you’ll think about it?”
Colt nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good to hear. That’s it for today. You’ve got chores and exercise, and I’ve got Maureen. Wish me luck.”
Colt grimaced. Maureen was a biter.
“Good luck,” said Colt, standing up and heading for the door. He turned at the last minute. “Thanks, doc. Thanks for everything.”
“Think about it, Colton,” he said. “Nothing to lose.”
“Yes, sir,” said Colt, closing the door behind him.
***
It didn’t surprise Verity when Lynette let them go a week after the incident between Colton and Artie in the stable.
She’d actually fired Verity “with cause,” claiming that she’d left her shift several times without completing it, which was—theoretically, at least—true. Ryan was a trickier case, however, because he was protected under the ADA and Lynette wasn’t interested in being dragged through court by Verity, who could likely win a civil case on harassment-on-the-job charges alone.
It helped a little to know that Artie had been fired too—his squeaky clean Knight in Shining Armor image permanently tarnished by his cruelty to Ryan. He was smart to leave TLOC as soon as possible, as the tides had quickly turned against him, with many female servers finally coming forward to complain of him taking liberties—squeezing their breasts and backsides uninvited and making lewd overtures—once he was gone.
Lynette offered fifty percent of Ryan’s salary, including full health care and dental, for twelve months or until he found another job, as long as they’d leave quickly and wouldn’t press charges against TLOC for Artie’s mistreatment of Ryan. And although it grated on Verity to take the deal when it meant sweeping Artie’s disgusting behavior under the rug, she couldn’t eat her convictions. If they lived at Colton’s house and spent Ryan’s partial salary frugally, they could eke by until they found new jobs. So she’d said yes to the deal, then cried herself to sleep in Colton’s bed, hating her desperation, missing him terribly, and wondering—as she did every night—what would happen at the end of their long sixty days apart.
Would he be shocked to find them still in his house and kick them out, insisting that he blamed her and hated her for what had happened? Or would he once again be the Colton she’d fallen in love with—gentle and protective, loving and tender—sorry for his unforgiving words and desperate to make things right? She worried about the former but remained hopeful for the latter.
She’d also taken time to review the judge’s sentence and think over Colton’s behavior. Twice she’d watched him—once in the motel parking lot and again in the stables with Artie—lash out brutally when someone he cared about was threatened. Both times, it was almost like he was on autopilot, in a thick, almost unreachable fog of rage. And while she truly didn’t believe that he’d ever hurt her, she worried now, as she had in the past, that if he couldn’t get his anger under control, it would be a matter of time before he killed someone.
During their time apart, she’d looked up anger disorders on the Internet, and, although she didn’t know Colton’s formal medical diagnosis, enough of the symptoms she read about led her to believe that he was probably struggling with a manageable condition called intermittent explosive disorder. If so, during his time away from her at Central State Hospital, he was receiving medical and psychological care that could end up saving his life, and maybe even saving their relationship too.
She hoped so. She hoped so hard, it ached.
But no matter how much it hurt, she couldn’t give up on him. She wouldn’t. Not yet.
She found some unexpected solace in gardening—planting borders of cheerful impatiens and pansies around the walkways of his home, keeping the lawn mowed and the edges trimmed. She remembered, with such happiness, the last Sunday they’d spent together before the incident with Artie. Colton gardening, her cleaning, spraying each other with the hose, making love in the sunshine. It had been so normal. Just a young couple in love spending a Sunday together. How she’d wanted a million more. She still did.
As days turned into