Mind Games

“You are, and that’s your choice. But, Thea”—Lucy gave her hand a squeeze—“it’s hard to build a real relationship when you close off part of what you are.”

“The one time I opened that part up to someone I cared about, it didn’t go well.”

“You shouldn’t judge Tyler or anyone else by someone else’s failings. But take what you need, and you’ll know when it’s time. But on one thing, I’m putting my foot down. I don’t put it down often, but you know when I do, I put it down hard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re not to go back in that cell.”

“I can promise you I won’t. It’s costing him to pull me in, and it’s cost him to do what he did.” She touched a hand to her shoulder. “He looks sick. I told him it was eating at him, and that’s just what it’s doing, to his body and his mind. He gets nosebleeds, bleeds from the ear. Pushing so hard and long, it’s doing something to him.”

“Then let it, and leave him be.”

“That’s all I want, to let him be where he is. He’s planned a dozen ways to get out—probably more I haven’t seen. He looks into the minds of other inmates, guards, doctors, anyone he can, digging for something he can use to escape. That’s costing him, too.”

Though it had gone cold, she picked up her coffee. “I should’ve told you both all of this, instead of just the bits I did. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t protect us,” Rem told her. “We protect each other.”

“That’s why I keep this boy around.” Leaning over, Lucy tugged him to her, kissed his cheek. “He may be a smart-ass, but the smart in him usually outweighs the ass. Now we’ve got animals to tend.”

“I’ll help. I already gave Bunk and my ladies breakfast before I came.”

“I’ll take it. You come on with me, Thea, and we’ll bring Rosie in from pasture.”

As they walked together, Lucy glanced back where Rem headed for the coop.

“I waited to say, as I know how brothers can be. You’re in love with Ty. I can’t help but see it all over you.”

“I am. Completely. I know it’s ridiculous, but—”

“Why? Love’s not ridiculous, even though it can make us feel ridiculous. He’s a fine man. That’s clear as freshly shined glass, and he’s raising a bright and happy boy.”

“Who I’m also completely in love with. And you wonder why, when that’s true, I’m not being completely honest with him. I want that time,” she said as she opened the gate to the pasture. “And more, he may not stay. He hasn’t decided, not all the way. I guess I want him to do that before I really think about telling him what I have.”

“That seems fair.”

* * *

She took the time, and enjoyed the flow of it. Evenings on his porch or hers, a Sunday at the farm with food on the picnic table and Bray racing with the dogs.

As August dripped away, she kept Riggs locked out.

She built her own dreams, as she had since childhood. He had no place in them.

If it cost her—a sudden headache, a restless night, a bubble of panic in her throat—she considered it a small price to pay for locking him out.

On the night before the first day of school, she walked down just far enough to see the lights shining in Ty’s house.

She imagined a little boy wound up about what was to come, and a man a bit frantic. Standing, the air still summer warm, she stroked her hand over Bunk’s head.

“They’ll be fine. There’s a dad who won’t get a lot of sleep tonight, but they’ll be fine.”

* * *

Before dawn, Bray bounced on his father’s back.

“Time to wake up! Time for school!”