Chapter 11 #2
Walker turned, defensive heat rising in his neck. “Tell her what?”
Boone gave him a flat look, the one he reserved for when Walker was being particularly dense. “That you’re in love with her. We all see it. Hell, Bishop sees it, and he’s a dog.”
Bishop, hearing his name, wandered over and sat at Boone’s feet, looking up at Walker with what seemed like judgment in his brown eyes.
Walker ran a hand through his hair, buying time. “It’s not that simple.”
“Pretty sure it is,” Boone countered. “Three words. Eight letters.”
“We’ve got a good thing going,” Walker said. “The ranch, the therapy program. What if I mess it up?”
Boone’s expression softened. “What if you don’t?” He shook his head. “Look, a year ago you found me a dog because you thought I needed something to care about besides my own shit. Maybe you should take your own advice.”
Walker didn’t respond, just looked toward the hallway Johanna had disappeared down.
Boone sighed and turned back toward the tree. “Fine. Keep pining like a teenager. But you should know she’s got that same stupid look on her face when she watches you.”
“She’s been gone a while,” Walker said, his gaze fixed on the hallway.
Boone shrugged. “Probably rearranging the boxes to make them more organized. You know how she gets.”
Walker crunched down on what remained of his Tootsie Pop, the grape candy giving way to the chocolate center. He was about to respond when Johanna reappeared, her brow furrowed.
“The box with the silver garland and star is missing,” she said, brushing dust from her hands. “I’ve looked everywhere. It should be with the others, but it’s not there.”
“Maybe it got moved when we fixed the leak in the ceiling this summer?” Walker suggested, tossing the candy stick in the trash.
“I checked everywhere it could’ve been moved to. And under the beds.” She crossed her arms, looking genuinely concerned about missing Christmas decorations. “It had the glass icicles my grandmother gave me.”
Walker recognized the look on her face– the same petulant one she got when one of her carefully organized files went missing or when someone rearranged her books. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.
“I’ll check the storage room in the barn,” he offered, already headed toward the door. “Might’ve gotten mixed in when we were sorting donations last week.”
Relief softened her features. “Would you? I’d really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” He shrugged into his jacket, surprised at how normal it felt to drop everything to go look for something just because she’d asked. When had that happened?
Outside, the cold air bit at his exposed skin, and he yanked up his collar against it. December was a hell of a month. It could be snowy as hell like last year, or dry and cold as a witch’s tit like this year. He preferred the snow to the mud and bitter, barbed air.
The path from the main house to the barn was all mud, frozen in places where shadow lingered, slick in the patches of weak winter sun.
Walker picked his way carefully, gaze fixed on his boots to avoid a fall.
The barn loomed ahead, the weathered red paint peeling in places where the harsh Montana winters had taken their toll.
He pulled open the heavy door, the familiar scents of hay, horse, and leather wrapping around him like a blanket. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior, and listened.
“Jonah?” he called, stepping into the warmer interior. “You in here?”
No answer, but he could hear movement from one of the stalls. Walker made his way down the central aisle, past the tack room and feed storage. The storage room was at the far end, but he paused when he reached Sunshine Serenade’s stall.
Jonah Reed stood inside, his back to the door, murmuring something too soft for Walker to catch.
The horse—a golden palomino they’d rescued from an auction last spring—had her head lowered, listening with what looked like rapt attention.
The kid’s hands moved in slow, gentle strokes down her neck, and she leaned into his touch like a cat.
Walker cleared his throat, not wanting to startle either of them.
Jonah turned, his expression immediately closing off. “Sir. I was just checking on her. She seemed restless earlier.”
Two months, and Walker still hadn’t cracked the kid’s surface. Jonah was unfailingly polite, did every chore without complaint, showed up for therapy sessions right on time—and revealed almost nothing of himself in any of it. The perfect resident on paper. The hardest kind to help in reality.
“Sunny likes you,” Walker said.
A flicker of surprise crossed Jonah’s face before his expression smoothed out again. “She’s easy to like back,” he said, turning his attention to the mare again. “Gentlest soul I’ve met in a while.”
“She wasn’t always,” Walker said, stepping closer to the stall. “When we got her, she wouldn’t let anyone touch her. Spooked at shadows, kicked through a stall door her first night here.”
Jonah’s fingers paused on the mare’s neck, then resumed their steady rhythm. “Hard to imagine that now.”
“Yeah, well. Time and patience work wonders.” He leaned against the stall door, studying the young man.
Clean-cut, military posture even in casual clothes, eyes that never quite met his.
Beneath the careful politeness, Walker sensed a wall as solid as concrete.
“Sometimes they just need the right person to help them through.”
Sunshine nickered softly, nudging Jonah’s shoulder when his strokes slowed. A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth—the first genuine expression Walker had seen from him.
“She thinks you’ve got peppermints,” Walker said.
“She’s right.” Jonah produced a red-and-white striped candy from his pocket and offered it on his flat palm. The mare’s lips delicately plucked it up, and the kid’s smile widened a fraction more. “I keep a stash for her. Hope that’s okay.”
“Fine by me. She’s earned some spoiling.” He watched as the young Marine scratched the sweet spot behind Sunny’s ear. With the horses, at least, Jonah seemed to know exactly who he was. “You’ve got a way with her.”
“Animals are easier than people.” Jonah immediately tensed, as if he’d revealed too much.
“Ain’t that the truth. They don’t lie, don’t judge. Just respond to how you treat ‘em.”
Jonah nodded, his gaze fixed on Sunny. “Exactly.”
“You’ve spent time with horses before,” Walker noted. Not a question.
Jonah nodded. “Grew up on a small farm outside Bozeman. Nothing fancy, just some horses, some cattle, some chickens.” A pause, then, softer: “Didn’t appreciate it enough at the time.”
It was more personal information than Jonah had volunteered in the entire two months he’d been at the ranch. The first crack in a carefully maintained wall.
Finally.
But as a silence stretched between them, Walker could almost see the kid’s defenses rebuilding, brick by careful brick.
“I’m looking for a box of Christmas decorations,” he said finally. “Jo’s missing some garland, glass icicles, and a star. Thought it might’ve ended up in the storage room.”
“Haven’t seen anything like that.” Jonah gave Sunny a final pat and stepped back. “But I could help you look, if you want.”
“Appreciate it.”
Walker considered for a moment, then nodded. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
They walked together to the storage room at the far end of the barn, Walker leading the way. The small space was packed with supplies, tools, and boxes of donations—clothes, books, household items that local charities had sent over for the residents.
“Should be a Christmas box,” Walker said, scanning the shelves. “Red and green, probably has ‘Xmas’ written on it in Jo’s handwriting. Neat as a pin.”
Jonah moved deeper into the room, methodically checking stacks of containers. “She seems very... organized.”
“That’s one word for it. Woman color-codes her sock drawer.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Jonah’s face before disappearing. “My mom was like that. Had a system for everything.”
Was. Past tense. Walker filed that away, another small piece of the puzzle that was Jonah Reed.
“Here,” Jonah said, pointing to a box wedged behind some spare lumber. “This it?”
Walker reached past him and pulled out the container, recognizing Johanna’s handwriting immediately. “That’s the one. Wonder how it ended up back here?” He tucked the box under his arm. “Thanks for the help.”
He nodded, already retreating toward the door. “No problem, sir.”
Shit. He was slipping away again, and Walker scrambled to come up with something more to say.
“We’re decorating the tree. Ugly as sin, but it’s tradition. You’re welcome to join us.”
The invitation seemed to catch the young man off guard. He hesitated, one hand on the doorframe. “I... have a few more things to check with the horses.”
“After, then. We’ll save you some of Jo’s hot chocolate.” Walker kept his tone casual, careful not to push too hard. “Best stuff you’ll ever taste. Secret recipe or something.”
Uncertainty flickered in Jonah’s eyes. “Maybe. If I finish up in time.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t an outright no either. Progress.
“Offer stands,” Walker said. “No pressure.”
Jonah nodded again, that perfect military acknowledgment, and slipped out the door. Walker watched him go, wondering what it would take to get the kid to drop his guard.
Johanna would know. She always did.