36. Garrett #2
I stroke Butterscotch. Pride warms me at how Peony feared me just four weeks ago. Now, she’s holding on to me, like I’m a life preserver in fast-moving flood waters.
“Butterscotch is a very special dog,” I explain, still stroking him.
“He has magical powers, so when people stroke him, they don’t feel so nervous.
He volunteers with Uncle Troy at the Veterans Center, making people feel better.
” I doubt she understands any of what I’m telling her, but her grip loosens on my shirt, and she slowly inches toward Butterscotch.
Troy remains silent, watching Butterscotch perform his magic. The dog wielded the same magic on Jess when she first moved to town and was struggling with complex PTSD and anxiety.
Peony crouches in front of Butterscotch and follows my lead, gently stroking him with one hand. The other arm crushes Poppy against her body.
Kylie and Zoe giggle and squeal as they play with Jasper in my periphery. Peony continues stroking Butterscotch, her attention fully on him.
“Peony, that’s Uncle Troy.” I point to my brother, who’s sitting cross-legged on the grass.
She tears her attention from Butterscotch and stares at Troy, trepidation narrowing her eyes.
He waves at her and offers her a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Her gaze moves from Troy and surveys the rest of the backyard, to where Kylie and Zoe are throwing Jasper’s ball to him while Lucas supervises.
Peony points at Jasper. “Doggy.” She then points to Simone, Jess, and Bailey. The three of them are watching the girls play. Bailey is lying next to Jess’s feet and has on her Service Dog in Training vest. “Doggy,” Peony repeats, referring to Jess’s golden retriever.
“That’s Bailey. She’s a working dog. She helps Jess feel safe. Like Poppy makes you feel safe.” I pat her panda on the head and gesture with a wave of my hand to Lucas and Simone’s golden Labradoodle. “That’s Jasper. Do you want to visit him?”
Or is meeting Troy enough for now?
She buries her face into my side, turning her head slightly to peek at the dogs—or their owners. I can’t tell which.
I stroke my thumb across her shoulder blades. “That’s okay. You can meet him when you’re ready.” I’m talking about Lucas, but my comment could refer to any of the males in the backyard—canine or human.
I nod my thanks to Troy. He returns the nod in a silent reply and pushes to his feet.
He and Butterscotch walk to where Jess, Bailey, and Simone are standing. He wraps his arms protectively around Jess’s waist, and she leans into him.
A flash of longing hits me like the crack of lightning during an electrical storm. And a sudden, unexpected need to have Zara by my side swells in me. We wouldn’t be able to kiss, since we’re keeping this new twist to our friendship to ourselves. But still…I miss her.
I wish she were here.
Mom and Athena walk out of the house, carrying plastic glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. They place the stuff on the table, and Athena rushes over to join Peony and me. I have a feeling she witnessed through the kitchen window what happened, but Mom kept her from racing out to be there for Peony.
Athena kneels next to us and puts her hand on Peony’s back, just below mine, our fingers touching. “Hi, sweet kebab. How are you doing?”
Peony turns to Athena. “Nina.” She scrambles onto Athena’s lap and is instantly engulfed in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Athena coos. “I knew you weren’t ready yet.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it, but I don’t miss the tiny bite to her tone that’s clearly meant for me. “But you did good, little one.”
“She’s meeting with a play therapist next week,” I casually inform Athena. “I’m hoping the therapist will have suggestions on how to make her comfortable with my father and brothers.” Since today didn’t go as I had hoped.
Athena frowns, and the flare of anger in her eyes from earlier returns. Peony doesn’t notice it. Her attention is on the dogs again. “What do you mean she’s meeting with a play therapist?”
I shrug. I should have probably given her a heads-up sooner, but Athena is Peony’s nanny. She’s not her mother. It isn’t something I needed to discuss with her.
My family—Lucas and Simone—were the ones I turned to for help. They are the ones who gave me the list of names. They were instrumental in me getting Peony the help she desperately needs.
“She’s too young to see a regular therapist,” I explain. “She doesn’t have the communication skills yet for that. But I thought with everything she’s dealing with, what with the loss of her mother and the nightmares, she might benefit from play therapy.”
The anger in Athena’s eyes twists and reshapes into hurt. “You could have mentioned it before booking it.” Hurt might glare coldly at me, but that’s not the emotion laying fire to her tone. It scorches with frustration and worry and the irate stomp of her foot.
I stare at her for a beat, a frown creasing my brow. “Didn’t realize I needed your approval. She is my daughter after all.” I raise an eyebrow in emphasis.
“I didn’t say you needed my approval. But a heads-up would have been nice.”
“A heads-up? A heads-up for what, exactly?”
She tightens her hold on Peony as if afraid I’m going to rip my daughter from her arms. As if protecting Peony from me…and my plans.
Peony squirms, her attention on the two girls and Jasper.
“Sorry,” Athena murmurs and loosens her grip. “I…I just want to know…that’s all.” Accusation burns in her tone, but all the steam behind it has fizzled.
My own anger at the situation snaps and crackles under my skin, but for Peony’s sake, I let Athena’s comments and attitude slide.
I don’t bother to remind her that I did let her know about the play therapy…
a few mo ments ago. I could have waited until after Peony and I returned home from the appointment.
“So when exactly is it?”
“A week today. The therapist is in Portland, so I’ll be taking the afternoon off for it.”
“Is…is Zara going with you?”
The emotion in her tone, prickly with thorns, sets me on edge. “No, she’s busy with the café expansion.” Not to mention the drive would be hard on her. I keep my voice even, void of any emotion that indicates my irritation.
The jaggedness smooths from Athena’s expression, and a smile curves on her mouth. “That’s good. That you’re taking Peony to see someone. Can…can I go with you? In case I have questions for the therapist?”
I frown at her sudden shift in attitude, unsure why it makes me feel more unsettled than it should, but I still nod in reply. Why the sudden pivot when she found out Zara wouldn’t be coming with Peony and me?
I brush the question aside. The abrupt change doesn’t matter. What matters is Peony, and how therapy could make a big difference in her healing after the loss of her mother.