“Yay progress.” I glance over my shoulder at the door, wondering if Tomer’s doing okay on the other side, then turn back to Sawyer. “Not saying you need it, but have you had therapy?”
“Everyone who served in the military should be in therapy. Especially if you were in the Rangers.” He shakes his head as if dispelling memories. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for a few months. Want to be the best daddy I can be for our little carpet crawlers.” He grins at Sammy’s tummy, reaching over to caress it. She laces their fingers together so they’re both cupping her belly.
Aww. Okay, Sawyer’s winning me over. I forgive him for being a dick to Tomer.
Partially.
I fling my thumb over my shoulder. “Do you see Jaynie too?”
He finishes off his coffee and pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “I did initially. But I switched after a few sessions.”
“Why?” I lean forward. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Sawyer beams at me, his brilliant white teeth shining. This man is high on life and happy as a pig in slop. “We laughed too much. Got along too well, if you can imagine that. It wasn’t effective for therapy, but I’d enjoy the hell out of a card game with her. I ended up doing impressions for forty-five minutes because she’s a great audience. I love making sweet old ladies laugh. So I started seeing a guy across town she recommended. He’s dealt with foster kids more anyhow.”
Oh. That explains a lot. Foster kids learn to become the funny ones to get attention.
Flashing my begging eyes at him, I say, “Perhaps you could mention to Tomer that you see a therapist? Like casually drop it into conversation. He might like knowing it’s something men can do without making them less manly.”
“Sure. But come on, therapy is plenty macho. Hell, Leo and Shep see Jaynie too.”
If shock were a drop of liquor, I’d die of alcohol poisoning. “Really?”
“Yep. Jaynie’s like the unofficial Redleg shrink.”
Sammy flaps her hand in his direction, pantomiming smacking him. “Don’t sayshrink. How can you be pro-therapy and call it head shrinking at the same time? You’re an oxymoron, minus the oxy.”
He winks at her. “Sorry, princess. Jaynie’s the unofficial Redleg head fixer-upper. Is that better?”
“Bleh,” Sammy bemoans comically, adding the fickle middle finger of fate to better sell her disdain.
I really like these two. The more I get to know them, the more my spirits perk up.
“Thanks for mentioning therapy to Tomer.” I lower my forehead at Sawyer in a show of appreciation. “His dad was messed up and said some shit to him that gave him a warped view of what it means to be a man.” My teeth clench involuntarily. “I wish his dad were still alive so I could give him a throat punch. I’m sure Sammy could show me how to do it without chipping my nails.”
She holds her hand out for a fist bump. “Bet your ass I could.”
Sawyer whistles through perfectly rounded lips. “Yeah. That dude was a fucking piece of work.”
Curiosity trundles through my chest. “You knew him?”
“Only through stories. When we were in the service, there was a lot of downtime where we bitched and moaned about our childhoods. Tomer wasn’t as verbose as the rest of us, but he said some shit that had our brows raised to the sky.”
His face falls, a heartbreaking air of sadness settling over him.
My sweet Tomer. He doesn’t deserve whatever that monster did to him.
Disgust and revulsion battle it out behind Sawyer’s eyes. “He told you about his dog, right?”
My throat clogs and tightens like an icy hand has gripped it, making it physically impossible to speak. All I can do is shake my head and beg him with my eyes for an explanation.
The last time I brought up this topic with Tomer, he clammed up. In fact, that was the night he asked me to make this therapy appointment for him.
Sawyer’s lips flatten. “It’s not a pretty story. I mean, it’s not graphic or anything. But the fucker killed Tomer’s dog when he was a little boy to teach him some lesson or as a punishment. Can you imagine?”
Sammy cups her mouth as she sucks in a huge swell of air.
That’swhy Tomer wants a dog.