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I’m making mental notes as he runs through the list, then everything screeches to a halt. “I’m sorry? Did you just ask me out?”
He leans forward, arching a dark brow. “Too soon?”
My lips part, and I swear I forget my words. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Because we’re working together? You’re right.” He holds the door for me, chuckling as I pass. “Still… Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I’m very flattered.” I pivot inside the office, doing my best to be very clear. “But I’ve just come out of a long relationship, and it’s never a good idea to mix business and personal.”
He holds up both hands. “Pretend it never happened.”
We spend the next several minutes going over the breeds of horses they handle and their upcoming events.
“I’ll have a concept to you by the end of the week.” This time when I hand over my card, I remember to say what I didn’t say to Rich. “If you know anybody who could use my services, I really depend on referrals.”
He studies it a second. “My sister is launching a new professional cheer program outside of Plano. She could probably use your help. I’ll give her your number.”
My brow rel
axes, and again, I’m flooded with hope. “Thank you.” It’s more of a gush than I intend. “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to work with me.”
He looks confused. “Why wouldn’t I? Deacon says you’re the best, and you clearly know what you’re doing.”
“I just… I don’t know.” I slip my purse on my shoulder not wanting to go back down an uncomfortable road.
“Because I asked you out?” He looks offended. “I’d never let something like that jeopardize a good business deal. And who knows, I might grow on you.”
He gives me a wink, but I just shake my head. “Strictly business, Mr. Beale.”
By the time I get back to William’s I’ve got a message on my phone from Charlotte “Charlie” Beale about meeting with her to develop a look for Cheer Texas. This time as we watch Love Island, we’re clinking glasses of champagne.
Oprah says what God intended for you goes far beyond anything you could imagine. I hope she’s right, because I can imagine a lot, and I’m ready to make it happen. Mrs. Irene’s words have become my mantra, and my focus is on success.
26
Sawyer
Six Months Later
Visualize a blue sky, open air. Safety. Let your thoughts drift by like white, fluffy clouds. Say the words in your mind when you feel your focus slipping. Breathe.
Headphones are in my ears, and I’m listening to a new meditation from Dr. Curtis.
She says I’m ready to go home, and she wants to write a thesis on all we’ve done since I came here—the brainspotting, the meditation, the talk therapy. She says it’s vital to the military’s ongoing efforts to treat service men and keep them active.
No objections here. I haven’t had an episode in weeks, the iron fist of pain in my chest has released, but more than that, I don’t get that itchy feeling all over my body when I’m asked about my feelings.
I still don’t care for the question, and I don’t like people who talk too much. But now I understand the value of getting shit out of my head. Now I can say what’s on my mind.
Pulling into the parking space, I switch off the app with Mindy heavy on my mind—a shit ton of emotions are in my chest when it comes to her.
Will she see me again?
Six months is a long time, and I haven’t tried to contact her. When I left, I told her it was over. I felt like it would be unfair to maintain contact not knowing if I’d ever reach this point.
Remembering the way I left her rips me up inside. I was so overwhelmed by my demons, I couldn’t even say I loved her when she told me she loved me with tears in her eyes. She wanted to help me, and I was a piece of shit.
Resting my elbow on the steering wheel, I rub my hands down my face. Now that I’m stronger, I can see how vital she is to my existence. I’m healthy enough to say out loud how much I love her.
