Page 7 of Lorcan
“I feel like I should because I might lose my nerve, but no, please—you first.”
“Sure.” He offered a dazzling smile. “I’ll start by saying I’m a psychologist.”
My breath caught. Of all the things I’d considered, this definitely hadn’t been one.
“No worries, okay? I only psychoanalyze folks when they pay me too.” Said with an easy grin and a disarming manner.
“Right. Okay.”
“I studied hard to earn my PhD in psychology so I could get out into the world and start counseling clients right away. My first paid gig, though, was as the resident psychologist at Mission City’s inaugural Pride Camp.”
I cocked my head. Somehow, I hadn’t heard about this.
“A couple donated some land and then built an entire camp on the site. Cabins and everything. Then hired a director, several counsellors, and me. We ran a couple of cohorts last summer.Queer kids in need of support—or those just needing to be with other kids like them. I have to say, that was an incredibly rewarding experience. Next year we’ve got even more camp sessions planned—including one for the siblings of queer kids. Sometimes they get lost in the fray.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I wish something like that had been around when I was younger. But I don’t know if I would’ve had the courage to go.”
“It’s tough. I mean, being a kid is rough enough—even at the best of times. To be queer as well? Sometimes outed without permission? That can be so traumatizing. Our focus is to create a safe space where the kids can just be kids.” He sipped his drink. “And learn coping skills as well.”
“That sounds like a really important job.”Unlike me, sitting on my ass. Well, I had a job now. So that was something.
“I think the important thing was the kids accepting the help. It’s not easy—being that vulnerable.”
Tell me about it. I’m here and I don’t remember ever feeling so exposed.Well, except in the courtroom, but I was really trying to forget that experience as quickly as possible. I cleared my throat. “And once camp was over? Or does it go on year-round?”
“Just for July and August. Now I work as a counselor at Healing Horses Ranch—a place up in north Mission City.”
“Never heard of it.” Because I couldn’t conceive what a psychologist might be doing at a horse ranch.
He grinned. “We’re a therapy ranch. A client will come to see a counselor. Amongst the services offered is equine and canine therapy. So, a patient might choose to learn how to ride a horse. While they’re learning to trust the horse, we hope they come to trust their counselor. Bonds form. Eventually, we hope for healing.”
“And canine?” This sounded a little bonkers—but I was totally intrigued.
“We have a therapy dog. Tiffany. She sits in on sessions with patients who are comfortable with her. She’s incredibly empathetic and can be a way for people to open up. Even just petting her can calm someone—lower their blood pressure.”
“People…heal?” Now the name of the ranch made a bit more sense.
“That’s the hope. For some clients, they only need a few sessions. They’ve got a particular issue they need to work through. We do our best to get them through the problem, and often they’re able to move on with their lives.”
“And others?”
His face was shadowed for a moment—almost like he was in a bad memory—but then he appeared to shake it off and offered another smile. Admittedly, this one was more guarded. “Sometimes people have mental illnesses that require intensive therapy. Or their trauma is more profound. Occasionally, we have patients who are in counseling for years. That’s okay too. We let ourselves be guided by what the client requires.”
“Years?” I rubbed my face.
“Everyone has a different trajectory in their lives. For some, counseling is the lifeline they need to get through a rough time—whether brief or ongoing. For others, it’s just there to help them perceive things differently.”
“And you listen to other people’s problems all day?”
He laughed. “Yep. And I couldn’t be happier.” His smile slipped a little. “I can’t help everyone—I know that. But I can set out every day to do my very best.” He sipped his drink again. “And I get to spend my day around horses, dogs, and amazing coworkers. I get to feel like I’m giving back to people who have given me so much.”
I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but I didn’t have the guts.
“That was a lot.” His blue eyes sparkled. “How about you?” He gestured to my wrist with the yellow band. “Are you comfortable sharing?”
Doubt flitted through my mind. This guy was so far out of my league that we weren’t even in the same realm. Still, I’d found the courage to come here.Might as well try.“I, uh, am also from Mission City.” Damn that we were from the same town. “I work construction. I’ve got more than a few miles under my belt, and my story’s pretty boring.”
“I doubt that.” He said the words casually, but I read an underlying meaning.
