CHAPTER SEVEN
Rusty
T he morning sun bathed the stables in a golden light as Rusty meticulously prepared a quiet spot for his first therapy session with Janice. He arranged two wooden barrels to serve as makeshift chairs and set up a simple crate to act as a table. As he gathered art supplies, journals, and a small speaker playing soothing music, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.
"Let this be a safe haven for her," Rusty whispered to himself, hoping that Janice would find comfort in the welcoming atmosphere he had created.
Rusty's thoughts drifted back to last night at dinner, when Janice had made it clear she didn't want to be friends. It made him sad, but he understood. Boundaries were important, especially with their shared history.
Rusty accepted that he would never be a big part of her life again. All he wanted to do now was help her feel a little better. And when he had done that, well, it was job done. Janice would be free to go and live her life however she wanted.
"No matter what, I'll help her find her light again," Rusty vowed silently.
Just then, there was a knock at the stable door. It was Chuck. He leaned against the door frame in his Stetson, chewing on a wheat head.
“You all set, Rusty?” Chuck asked.
“Yup. Thanks for agreeing to let us do this, Chuck. I appreciate it.”
Chuck took the wheat out of his mouth and spat a shell onto the ground. “You know, Rusty, I only ever told the two of you to keep your distance because I thought it was what you wanted. But I can see the way you look at Janice. And I hear the way you talk about her. If there’s somethin’ still there between the two of you, Rust, then it’s down to you if you want to explore it.”
Rusty’s jaw tightened. “Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate it. But seriously, there’s no need to worry about that happenin’. Won’t be any drama where Janice and I are concerned. She and I are in the past.”
Chuck looked over at the crate Rusty had set up, with a little jelly jar full of wildflowers on it to make it look pretty.
“Right,” said Chuck with a skeptical look in his eyes. “Sure thing. I’ll leave you to it, then. I’m here if you ever need to chat, okay?”
Rusty nodded. “I’m all right, Chuck. I promise.”
Chuck left him, and Rusty looked around the space nervously. The wildflowers. The classical music. The secluded spot. Was it all too much? Too . . . romantic?
Just then he heard another knock. A timid one this time.
Janice.
Too late to change anything now.
The moment he saw her, Rusty's breath caught in his throat. She was wearing a pastel rose dress, knee-high socks, and a matching ribbon in her vibrant red hair.
"Hi, Rusty," Janice said shyly, her cheeks flushing a delicate rose. "I hope you don't mind the outfit. Sara thought it might help me feel more comfortable."
"Course not. You uh, you look . . . amazing. And appropriate. Very appropriate." Rusty's voice was thick with emotion. Clearing his throat, he focused on establishing ground rules for the session. "Now, before we begin, I want to emphasize a few things. Our sessions will be built on respect, consent, and confidentiality. I’m here to support you. I won’t tell anyone what is discussed in these sessions—not even Chuck. If there’s ever anything that comes up that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know and we’ll deal with it."
"Okay, Rusty," Janice replied softly.
It felt strange hearing her call him Rusty. Back in the past, she had only ever called him Daddy.
"Good,” he said. “Let's get started then."
As they sat down on the barrels, the scent of hay and the distant murmur of horses filled the air, creating a sense of calm and familiarity. Rusty knew how much Janice loved horses, and he hoped that being in the stables would help her feel at ease.
"Remember," Rusty said gently, his fingers brushing against her hand as he handed her a paintbrush, "this is a safe space for you to explore your feelings. Take your time, and know that I'm here to listen."
"Thank you," Janice whispered. “So . . . what am I meant to do here?”
“Anything you like,” Rusty replied with a smile. “You can be as Little or grown-up as you like. The only thing I ask is that you stay present, and we talk through anything that comes up.”
Rusty was improvising, but he did have some idea of what he was doing. Back on his ranch in Colorado, after he and Janice had split, Rusty had spoken to a Little friend of his who was a therapist, and she had done something similar to this with him. Rusty hadn’t stuck at it for long, though. He wasn’t normally one for talking or opening up. The only person he’d ever done much of that with was Janice.
“Oh, hang on,” he said. “I almost forgot.”
He reached behind the crate and pulled out a small, plush toy. It was a small, pink, heart-shaped toy, with a smiley face and two daisies in its pink hair. Now that Rusty thought about it, handing Janice a heart-shaped toy was a little awkward, given their history, but he felt confident Janice would understand the message behind it.
“Meet Little Miss Hug,” he said, handing the gift to Janice. "I thought she could keep Little Miss Giggles company."
"I can't believe you remembered!" Janice gasped, her eyes wide with surprise and heartfelt appreciation. She hugged the stuffie close, feeling the soft fabric against her cheek. "You used to read those Little Miss books to me all the time."
"Of course I remember," Rusty replied, his voice warm and tender. "And like Little Miss Hug says, 'Everyone needs a hug sometimes.' I figured this would be a nice reminder for both of us."
"Thank you," Janice murmured, her eyes misting over with tears. She quickly wiped them away and smiled at Rusty.
"You feel like painting?" Rusty asked, gesturing toward the array of art supplies spread out on the makeshift table. He was hoping that a constructive art therapy session might help to dispel the bad memories of the last one.
"Absolutely," Janice responded.
As she began to apply gentle strokes of color onto the canvas, Rusty encouraged her to open up about her feelings. He wanted her to feel safe and supported, free to express herself in any way she needed.
"Tell me what's on your mind, Janice. Take your time, and don't worry about saying the 'right' thing. Just let it flow, like the paint on your canvas."
"Okay," she agreed softly, her gaze still fixed on her artwork. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke. "I guess I've been feeling really lost lately. Like I don't know who I am anymore."
Rusty nodded, understanding the depth of her struggle. He knew Janice had faced many challenges in her life, and her sense of self had been undermined by the emotional abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her father.
"Let's explore that," he suggested gently, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a reassuring warmth. "How do you see yourself now, compared to who you were when we were together?"
Janice hesitated, her brush pausing mid-stroke as she considered Rusty's question. "I used to feel so free, like I could be myself without any fear or judgment," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. "But now, I just feel trapped, like I'm constantly trying to please everyone else but never quite measuring up."
As she continued to paint, each stroke revealing more of her inner turmoil, Rusty listened intently, offering words of encouragement and validation. It was clear to him that Janice desperately needed someone in her corner, someone to help rebuild her shattered self-esteem and guide her toward healing.
"Remember," Rusty said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "you don't have to carry this burden alone. I'm here for you, no matter what. Not as your friend, if that’s not what you want, but as someone who gives a damn. Okay?"
"Thank you, Rusty," Janice whispered, her eyes shining with gratitude.
Rusty studied the warm colors Janice was using in her painting, a reflection of the vibrant sunshine outside the stable.
"Tell me more about your relationship with your father," Rusty encouraged gently, watching as she dabbed her brush into a deep shade of red. He knew that he had to tread carefully. He was aware of things about Janice’s father that she didn’t know about—and couldn’t know about. Plus, he didn't want to sound too much like a therapist—that would freak Janice out.
Janice hesitated, her hand trembling slightly. "Well, as you know, it’s never been fantastic. He’s always been overprotective since my mom died. And all he cares about is looking good and his reputation. Trying to make me into a miniature version of him so I can inherit his land one day and become a Laird in Scotland just like him.”
“Mm-hmm,” Rusty said quietly. “Go on.”
“The truth is, the only thing me and my father have in common is the color of our hair. Everything else about us is just completely different.” She swallowed. “He got ill a couple of years ago. Trouble with his liver. We all thought he was going to die, so he started making plans for me to take over his estate in Scotland. The problem was, there were so many rules and stipulations. He wanted me to sign documents saying I promised to move to Scotland, that I’d marry a Scotsman, that I’d be an upstanding member of the community in my local area. That I’d attend hunts and shoots and hold formal gatherings three times a year.”
“Right,” said Rusty, imagining how scary the sound of all that must have been to Janice. “So, what did you do?”
“Well, I broke down in tears one night and the truth just sort of tumbled out of me. I told him I was a Little, that I always had been one, and that I needed to stay true to myself and remain here in the USA. I wanted to be with my people. Most of all, I wanted to leave my father’s ranch and find myself. Not on some stuffy Scottish estate. I wanted to find a DDlg community and live there.”
“That was very brave of you.”
“It was terrifying," she admitted, dipping her brush into the blue paint. Her brush strokes had become slower and more formless now. "I thought he would disown me, but instead, he just . . . he made me feel like I was nothing. Like the person I am isn't worth anything."
Rusty reached out, touching her arm reassuringly. "You are not worthless, Janice. You have so much to offer. It's important for you to recognize that."
With a small nod, Janice continued painting, her strokes growing bolder. “I think he was hoping that he could break me—like one of his horses. You know how he was with them.”
Rusty clenched his jaw. “I do.” He had seen Janice’s father Angus mistreat many horses.
Angus tried to save money by having less horses than he needed for the size of his cattle ranch, so the horses were all exhausted and overworked. He broke them in harshly and aggressively, with excessive use of spurs and whips, forcing them into submission rather than building trust and cooperation. He neglected their needs and even punished them physically if they let him down. Rusty had tried to do something about it on several occasions, but fighting someone as rich and powerful as Angus was almost impossible.
"Let's try something new," Rusty suggested. "When you find that you’re thinking negatively about yourself, I want you to replace those thoughts with positive affirmations. It might seem simple, but it can make a significant difference in how we perceive ourselves."
"Okay," Janice agreed, setting down her paintbrush and looking up at him earnestly. "What should I say?"
"Start by saying 'I am worthy' or 'I am strong,'" Rusty offered, his hazel eyes holding hers as if willing her to believe those words. "Repeat them until you truly believe them. Because you are, Janice. You are worthy and strong."
"Thank you, Rusty," she whispered, her green eyes shining with gratitude. She took a deep breath and repeated the affirmations, her voice growing steadier and more confident with each repetition. "I am worthy. I am strong."
"Good. Keep practicing," Rusty encouraged, watching as Janice returned to her painting with newfound determination.
"Rusty . . . thank you for being here and helping me through this," she said, pausing in her work to meet his gaze. "I appreciate it."
A warm smile spread across Rusty's face. "You're welcome, Janice. I'm just glad I can help you find the strength and happiness you deserve."
After another hour of craft activities, Rusty and Janice stepped outside the stable. The scent of blooming wildflowers filled the air, carried by a gentle breeze that ruffled their hair. Rusty noticed the way Janice's eyes lit up at the sight of the vibrant landscape, and he couldn't help but smile.
"Beautiful, ain't it?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the horizon.
"Absolutely," Janice breathed, her green eyes sparkling. "I never tire of these views."
"Me neither," Rusty agreed, guiding her on a short walk around the ranch. "You know, I think there's a lot we can learn from nature. Just look at all these flowers, bloomin' and growin' despite whatever challenges come their way. They might recede every year when cold days come their way, but they always bounce back. Kinda like you, Janice."
She glanced over at him, a blush coloring her cheeks. "You really think so?"
"Absolutely," he replied. "You've been through so much, but you're still standin’ strong, ready to heal and grow. It's inspiring."
As they continued walking, they approached Snickers.
"Can you introduce me to her?" Janice asked tentatively.
Rusty paused, considering the request. "Snickers? I'd love for you to meet her, but she's still quite nervous around people. We need to give her more time to adjust before introducin' new folks."
"I understand," Janice said, disappointment flickering in her eyes.
"Tell you what, though," Rusty added with a grin. "I've been reading to her every day, trying to help her get used to being around people. If you'd like, you can join me tonight. We can sit outside her stall and read together. Just so she knows we're not a threat."
"Really? That sounds lovely," Janice replied with a smile, the disappointment in her eyes replaced by excitement.
"Great," Rusty said, his heart swelling with happiness at the thought of spending more time with Janice. "I'll meet you at the stables after dinner, then."
As they walked back toward the stables, Janice cleared her throat. "Rusty," she said hesitantly, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "I, uh, I overheard you reading the other night. It was quite an interesting choice of novel."
He felt his own face redden as he recalled the steamy scenes from the book he'd been reading.
"Ah, well, uh," he stuttered, trying to find the right words. "I didn't think anyone was listenin'. But you know, sometimes it's just nice to lose yourself in a story, even if it's a bit . . . racy."
"Definitely," Janice agreed with a shy grin, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met, their thoughts clearly straying to more intimate territory. “So, is that what we’ll be reading tonight?”
Rusty swallowed. “Well, it’s the novel Snickers is used to me reading. No doubt she wants to find out what happens next. Plus, it was written by one of the Littles here on the ranch.”
Janice bit her lip. “Okay. Sounds good. I’ve never read a steamy novel before, let alone read one to a horse.”
Rusty cleared his throat, eager to change subjects before things got awkward. "There's something else I want to try with you, Janice. You can say no."
"What is it?" she asked, looking a little wary.
"Physical discipline." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
"Really?" Janice asked curiously. "What would that involve?"
"Spanking, mostly," Rusty admitted, watching her closely for any signs of discomfort. "But always within the context of respect, consent, and trust. It can be a powerful way to help process emotions and reinforce positive behaviors."
Janice's eyes widened, and she chewed on her lower lip for a moment before responding. "I'm intrigued, but I'll admit, I'm also a little nervous. We never did that back when I was your Little."
"We didn’t,” Rusty agreed. “We kept our punishments fairly light back then. But listen, we'll only move forward with this if and when you're ready. We wouldn’t do anything sexual, and we’d remain fully-clothed. I don’t want us crossing any boundaries you’re not comfortable with."
“What about boundaries you’re not comfortable with?” asked Janice.
“Right. That too,” Rusty replied awkwardly.
Janice blinked at him. “Rusty? Why are you helping me like this? Seriously? Ten years ago, you walked out of my life without saying a word. Why do you suddenly seem to care now?”
Because I never stopped caring, little one.
Because I’m still in love with you.
“Because I saw you struggling the other day, and figured I might be able to help." It was true enough, but it was nowhere near the whole truth.
When they reached the stable, Janice picked up her new stuffie and then rubbed her tummy. “I’d better go grab some lunch now. Thank you for this morning, Rusty. It meant a lot to me.”
Rusty nodded. "Today was a big step for you, Janice. I'm really proud of how open and honest you've been with me."
Rusty watched Janice walk back toward the main ranch house. He stood there for a moment, feeling the cool breeze brush against his beard as he contemplated the day's events.
He always felt good at the end of a job well done. Usually, it was a sort of deep, aching contentment from fixes fences and cleaning horses. Today, though, felt different. Like something, deep down within him, had finally been nourished after years of neglect.
"Everyone needs a hug sometimes," he whispered to himself. He paused a moment, then he went back to his animals, and got on with his day.
The night couldn't come soon enough.