Page 7 of Branded Mountain Man
"This isn't therapy."
"No. It's just two people spending time together." She pulled on her boots, checking the laces. "Unless you'd rather sit in here and glare at each other for the next three days."
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or reluctant interest. "You're not what I expected from a therapist."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone more..." He gestured vaguely. "Clinical. Someone who'd want to sit and talk about feelings."
"Feelings are important. But sometimes they're easier to access when your hands are busy and your mind isn't so focused on defending itself."
Colt was quiet for a moment, considering. Then he moved toward the door. "Fine. But we do this my way. You follow my lead, stay where I tell you to stay, and don't touch anything without asking."
"Deal."
The next few hours were a revelation.
Outside the small confines of the tower cab, Colt transformed. His movements became sure and economical ashe showed her the rebuilt stairs, the reinforced platform, the careful attention to detail in every joint and connection.
"The original structure was built in the fifties," he explained, running his hand along a support beam. "Good bones, but decades of weather had taken their toll. When I got here, half the stairs were rotted through and the cab was basically a sieve."
"You did all this yourself?"
"Mostly. Nash brought materials when he could—good man, the kind who doesn't abandon his people—but yeah."
Sloan watched him work as he demonstrated the restoration techniques he'd used, noting the way his shoulders relaxed when he was focused on a task. The care in his hands as he adjusted a loose board. The pride he tried to hide when she complimented his craftsmanship.
"It's beautiful work," she said, meaning it. "You should be proud of what you've accomplished."
"It's just maintenance."
"No, it's not. This is art. Functional art, but art nonetheless."
Colt glanced at her, something flickering in his expression that looked almost like gratitude. "Marcus would have liked it. He was always on me about taking pride in the work."
It was the first time he'd mentioned anyone from his past without prompting. Sloan filed the name away, but didn't push. Instead, she followed him as he led her around the perimeter of the tower, pointing out drainage improvements and erosion control measures.
"You've been busy," she observed.
"Had time to kill."
"This is more than killing time. This is someone building something to last. Something that matters."
Colt stopped walking and turned to look at her. "Why are you really here, Sloan?"
The question caught her off guard with its directness. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you could have done your assessment yesterday. Asked your questions, made your notes, hiked out this morning and filed whatever report you're going to file. But you're still here. Why?"
Sloan considered her answer carefully. The professional response would be to mention her 72-hour protocol, her need for thorough documentation. But standing here with Colt in the clean mountain air, watching him be fully present for the first time since she'd arrived, she found herself wanting to be honest.
"Because I think you're worth the time," she said simply.
The words hung in the air between them, loaded with implications neither of them was ready to examine. Colt's face went carefully blank, but she saw the way his hands clenched at his sides.
"You don't know me."
"No. But I know you built something beautiful up here. I know you've been taking care of yourself, even if you won't admit it. And I know there's more to your story than you're telling me."
