Page 60 of Stolen Hearts

She glanced at Navy. The baby had circled back to her playmat and was rolling around on her belly, her obsession with the ball shifting to a stuffed caterpillar that rattled.

“You gonna be a good girl for Momma’s session?”

Navy blew a raspberry and kicked her heels.

“That’s what I thought.”

The knock came promptly at three. Rhae hurried to open the door and found him standing rigid in the doorway, shoulders squared.

“Justin. So nice to see you today. Come on in.” She stepped back.

He gave the room a quick scan before he nodded to her. “Ma’am.”

She closed the door. “We’re not so formal here. Call me Rhae.”

“All right.”

“Take any seat you feel comfortable in.”

He glanced at Navy on the mat. A few toys were scattered around the room as usual. He nudged a rattling toy out of his way with his boot before sinking into the chair.

She observed the new vet, taking in his body language and reactions to things that, even when they were new to the ranch too, didn’t seem to bother the other vets. Like the baby and her toys.

He didn’t bend to pick up the toy or shake it for Navy. He didn’t comment on Navy either. No glance of curiosity or a gentling of his expression like she saw from the other guys.

He settled with his spine ramrod-straight, obviously stressed about the visit.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d feel ready to come,” she started off mildly, hands in her lap and no pen or paper for taking notes. She wanted to keep things relaxed, casual. She’d found from working with dozens of military personnel, as well as the vets here on the ranch, that this approach worked best.

“Had some stuff to get off my chest,” he dove right in. “I thought I’d come talk.”

This was unusual—no warmup, just straight to it.

She nodded, mentally noting his detachment and the flat tone of his voice. “I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say.”

“I was in a unit in Ramadi. Five of us were tight-knit. Brothers.” His gaze focused on a point on the wall, not in a far-off way, but like he was reading a script written on a prompter. “Three are dead now. One is still active. As far as I know, anyway. I fell out of touch with him.”

She offered an encouraging nod.

“We called ourselves the Ghosts.”

She’d heard similar things from other men. But the dispassionate way he talked about a brotherhood was far different from how those men talked. Loyalty and pain, she heard over and over again as a common theme. This felt…detached.

He could have a dissociative disorder. She would need to speak to him further to find out.

“Two were taken out by IEDs. One by friendly fire. Shit happens.” He forced a small shrug.

She let her gaze roam over his face. There was no flicker of emotion and no grief burning in his voice.

Of course, every patient handled things differently, but Justin threw her a little.

“Was it hard losing them?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. Sure. They were my guys.” He sounded so mechanical. “I figured you’d want to hear that.”

Her ears perked up.Figured you’d want to hear that?As if he was attempting to check off all the boxes she might have for him. To give her the answers he thought she expected?

“Tell me what you’ve been dealing with since coming home.” She sat back in her seat, hoping he would relax more, but he still sat stiffly.

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