Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
GEORGIA
It’s a good thing I deal with moody kids on a daily basis, because otherwise, I would have run screaming from this house.
Luke’s outburst doesn’t surprise me.
I’ve had my fair share of kids screaming at me because families are having kids and them worrying they’ll get moved again. If I can be a safe place for these kids to take out their emotions and feelings, I’ll do it.
Better me than anyone else.
I have experience here. It’s the only reason I’m knocking on Luke’s door.
“Go away, Dad!” he shouts.
“It’s Georgia,” I say, giving him a minute.
Whether he wants to answer is on him. When he does swing the door open, he looks more upset than he was before.
“I don’t want to talk to him,” he says, going back and dropping on his bed.
“I won’t make you.” I walk inside and nod to the desk chair. “Can I sit?”
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.
I know they only moved here a couple of weeks ago, but this room is about as bland as it could be. There’s nothing on the walls with only a few books on a shelf and that’s it. I know Grant said Luke was having trouble with the move, but it’s pretty obvious he’s not handling it well.
“I’m sorry all of this is happening,” I say. “We didn’t want to spring this on you, but there’s no easy way to tell someone that you’re having a baby.”
Luke turns his head to look at me, but doesn’t say anything.
I continue, “I know it’s hard. You don’t know me, and your dad and I don’t really know each other all that well, but I think if you give it some time, you might like me if you get to know me. Pinecrest, too.”
“This place is as big as my school back home,” he says.
I laugh. “Trust me, I know. Pinecrest is small, but it’s a good town. Have you explored any since you got here?”
“No.”
“I know you’ve been to the ranch,” I say. “Did you like it out there?”
“It was fine.”
“I work in the barn there with horses. I’m a hippotherapist.”
“A what?” He snorts.
“Hippotherapist. I work with children who need therapy and we do it with horses. It’s mostly with foster kids now.”
“But why’s it called hippotherapy? Why not just a horse therapist?”
“Hippo is the Greek word for horse,” I tell him.
“Not the first time someone’s asked you that then,” he grumbles.
“No.”
I smile, even though he’s not looking at me. At least we’re getting somewhere.
“How’d you get into it?” He’s still looking at the ceiling.
“I worked at the ranch in high school and loved the horses. I knew it’s what I wanted to do when I grew up.”
I don’t need to get into the harder details of my childhood and teen years in Pinecrest. He already has enough on his plate to deal with. He doesn’t need me trauma dumping my past.
“That’s cool.”
“I love it. I do a lot of therapy with kids who need help expressing their emotions.”
That gets me a side-eye. “Is that why my dad told you to come down here?”
“Nope. I wanted to check on you, but if you’re interested, you can come out to the barn and go riding sometime. I’m always out there.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He’s not looking at me, but that’s okay. I’ve piqued his interest enough that he may actually agree to this. “Your dad will have to bring you out, but I have a feeling you might like it.”
“Okay.”
I stand to go. “Think about it. I’m free on Monday and I know there’s no practice for the Loggers.”
“Georgia?” he calls out when I have one foot out the door. “I’m sorry I said those things about you. I just…”
I nod. “I know. It’s okay. This is a lot to handle. You’re going through a lot of changes right now.”
He snorts. “You sound like the puberty video we had to watch in health class.”
I throw my hands up. “That’s out of my wheelhouse, Luke. But moving to a new school and town? It’s a lot for anyone to take, and then we drop this news on you? I don’t blame you for freaking out.”
“Thanks.”
I point a finger at him. “But you will need to apologize to your dad too.”
“Ugh. I know.” He collapses back on the bed. “I’ll do it later.”
“He loves you, you know. When I first told him I was pregnant, you were his first concern.”
“No way.”
“You were. He loves you, Luke; don’t ever doubt that.”
With those parting words, I head back upstairs. Dinner is put away and Grant is out on the patio, a beer in hand.
I step through the open French doors and stand beside him.
“How’d it go?” he asks. “Or do I even want to know?”
“He’s upset, but I think he’ll be okay by tomorrow.”
“No fucking way,” Grant says. “The last time he yelled at me like that was when I told him we were moving here and he didn’t talk to me for a week.”
I lean against the railing, my arm brushing against his. I ignore how good it feels. How it spreads warmth through me that has nothing to do with the warm summer night.
“I might have told him that he could come out to the barn and go riding.”
Grant smiles at me. “Is that how you convince people to like you? Bribe them with horses?”
“No.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Queenie is very good at sensing emotions and is good with kids. It helps to calm them down, and when they’re calm, they feel safe talking to you. I think it could be really good for Luke. Help him process everything he’s feeling.”
“Damn.” He lets out a whistle and sips his beer. “Note to self on how to get him to talk to me next time.”
“He did apologize to me, and I told him he also has to apologize to you.”
“Wow.” He stares at me, brown eyes fixed on mine, like he can’t quite believe me.
“What? I wasn’t going to let him get away with not apologizing to you too.”
“I know, but I don’t think he’s ever apologized to me,” Grant says. “He moped around the house before we left and then one day he asked for a snack and that was that.”
I burst out laughing. “Is that how families do it these days? No one actually apologizes—you just ask about food and move on?”
“More or less.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Works for the two of us.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn about being a part of a family,” I mutter, more to myself than anything.
“You don’t have any family?” Grant asks.
Of course he heard that.
I pat him on the shoulder. “A story for another day.”
It doesn’t look like my words appease him, but he takes it. My guess is he’s still reeling from how the conversation with Luke went down earlier.
“I’m sorry tonight didn’t go better,” he says. “I really thought he’d handle it better.”
I bump his shoulder with mine. “Give it time. I think he’ll come around.”
“And if not?”
I smile at him. “If not, there’s always horses.”