Hummingbird Lake Page 0,94
you’re attempting to treat your PTSD?”
Now she folded her arms. He’d hit a nerve and her defenses were rising. “You’re awfully nosy, Rafferty.”
“I love you. I want to help you.”
Then stop pressing me, she wanted to say. Instead, she snapped, “By signing me up for yoga?”
“I did some reading about how to help loved ones with PTSD. It suggested practicing relaxation techniques. I thought yoga would be a place to start, although Angel’s Rest offers a number of classes you could take that might help.”
Oh, Colt. He really was so sweet. If only he would understand that the shadows were too dark, too ugly. She couldn’t go there by herself yet, and she’d be hanged if she’d drag anyone along with her. “I appreciate the effort, and maybe during the winter I’ll give the classes a try. I’m too busy now. Besides, a walk along the lakeshore with Snowdrop relaxes me just fine.”
“All right, then.” He lifted his chin and forged ahead. “What about therapy? I have the name of a doctor who—”
“No,” she interrupted, as the suggestion left her cold. Yoga was one thing, having therapy was another. Look what it had done for her in the past. Daddy, I need to tell you something. “Just drop it, Colt.”
“No, I won’t.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It’s obvious you need more help than you are currently receiving. Everything I’ve read and everyone I’ve spoken to has emphasized how important therapy is to someone suffering from PTSD.”
Now he’d pricked her anger. “I’m not going to discuss this with you. It’s my past and my problem.”
“You told me enough to know it’s ugly, Sage. Until you deal with it, with all of it, it will only get uglier. I’m not asking that you tell me—although I’d listen if that’s what you wanted. I’m asking that you talk to someone.”
“No.”
“Why not? I don’t understand?”
“You don’t need to understand,” she fired back, flinging out a hand in emphasis. Then she pointed toward herself as she added, “This is my health we’re talking about. My problem.”
“Your problems are my problems now.” He stepped toward her. “That’s what happens when you love someone.”
“Don’t you understand?” She slapped both hands against her head. “That’s exactly what I’ve tried to avoid. I don’t want my problems to be your problems. I don’t want to drag you into my darkness.”
“Then let me lead you into my light, Sage,” he said, his beautiful blue eyes warm and pleading. “Let me help you. Let a doctor help you.”
“No! Drop it, Colt. I’m not going into therapy. I tried it. It didn’t work for me.” That, she thought, might be the understatement of the century.
She wasn’t lying. She had entered therapy soon after she returned to the States, putting herself through six weeks of hell that culminated in the visit to her father.
Colt, being Colt, refused to let the subject go. Over the next ten days, he pressed her, cajoled her, and used both valid arguments and ridiculous ones in his attempts to ferret out her reasons for standing firm against his wishes. She explained as best she could manage, but the more they talked, the more frustrated they both grew. Finally, one evening after they’d attended the summer theater production of Eternity Springs’ own Cellar Bride mystery and were walking to the Taste of Texas creamery to feed Colt’s rocky road habit, he brought the subject up one too many times, and Sage let him have it. “Stop it. I refuse to listen to it one more time. If you so much as whisper the word therapy one more time, I swear, I’m going to scream.”
“Now, that’s not necessary.”
“You’re bullying me, Rafferty and I don’t like it.”
“Bullying? I’m not bullying you.”
They bickered back and forth for blocks until Sage had completely lost her appetite for ice cream. It was the closest thing they’d had to a fight since they’d known each other. He wouldn’t budge on this. And neither would she.
When the ringing of his cellphone interrupted his latest harangue, Sage was glad to give her ears a rest. Scowling, he fished the phone from his pocket, thumbed the appropriate button, and snapped, “Rafferty.”
Sage caught her breath when the color drained from his face, leaving him ashen. Something bad had happened. Another industrial accident? He’d told her the other day that his old team was enjoying an unusually long stretch without incidents. Sage hated to think about what might have occurred. Seeing his reaction brought home