Page 127 of Guitars and Cages

His eyes had gone wide. “How can you brush it off so easily?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not the first time I’ve been pinned against a wall by a horse. I’ve been kicked once, too. If you work with horses long enough, it’s going to happen.”

“And that is understandable, but to have it happen when you’re trying to make sure someone else doesn’t get hurt in the process, that is truly commendable.”

“I don’t need praise; that wasn’t why I did it.”

He was scribbling notes on his pad. I hated when he did that. I always found myself wondering what he was writing about me. “Then why did you do it?”

“’Cause you’re not supposed to watch a kid get hurt and not do somethin’.”

He nodded. “No, you’re not, but there’s no reason to hide that you helped, either. Hopefully, the little girl learned how dangerous it can be around the horses and won’t slip into a stall again, but you should still let her parents know and let your boss know, so they can keep a better eye on her.”

“I did tell ’em about her going in there, ’cause I didn’t want it happenin’ again.”

He looked confused for a moment, jotted something down, and then his gaze flickered to me, realization in his eyes.

“You told them about her going in the stall, but you didn’t tell them that she almost got hurt, or that you had gotten hurt protecting her?”

“Like I said, I didn’t see the point in it. They know she was somewhere she didn’t belong, and hopefully they’ll keep her out of there now.”

He nodded and made a few more notes, and then he put the notepad aside and studied me.

“You saw value in that little girl’s life, enough to put yourself in harm’s way to protect her. You saw value in the life of a kitten, enough to get into a cage and fight for her to have an operation. You saw value in a little boy having a stable home, after so many changes in his life, enough to get back into a cage and fight again. So tell me something, Asher; when are you going to see any value in your own life? When are you going to realize that you are worthy of being saved, too?”

I could only shrug beneath the weight of his words.

“I want you to think about that, all right?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” I told him as I stood. I was ready to get the hell out of there. There was always too much thinking and too much honesty. I was halfway to the door when he called me back.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, who did you give the other copy of the contract to?”

I hung my head, muttering, “No one, there was no one I could give it to.”

“Why?”

I looked up at him and gave a half-shrug. “Different reasons. Everyone’s got their own problems; they don’t need mine. I’ll handle it myself.”

“Put all of that aside for a moment. Whowouldyou give it to?”

I looked him in the eye. The answer was easy. “Morgan.”

He nodded. I was pretty sure he’d known that would be my answer. “You need to talk to Morgan. Don’t keep on isolating the people you care about. There’s nothing that can’t be solved when two people care enough to make the effort.”

“I’ll try. I doubt he’ll listen, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t defeat yourself before you begin. It’s time you start learning to look at things with a positive spin instead of a negative one. You might find that life surprises you.”

Yeah, right. But I didn’t say that out loud. I just nodded and left, hoping the rest of my day was less exciting and painful than first half had been.

Chapter Forty-Two

For the rest of the day I thought about Dr. Hozman’s words, and I knew deep down that he was right. I had to talk to Morgan, and Conner, even if it was just for Morgan to tell me once and for all to stay away. By the time I finished at the stables I decided the best thing to do would be to wait until after closing time, since I had a set to play anyway. The last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene during business hours if him and I got into it. Sore and tired, I went back to my apartment and took a long, hot shower. Then I got out the first-aid kit and cleaned up the cuts and gashes from the fight. As I did, I could hear Conner’s voice in my head lecturing me about infections, and I smiled, ’cause at least that had told me he cared. That was hard to ignore, even when I was upset with him.

I wasn’t as mad as I was before. The more I replayed it in my head, the more convinced I was that he hadn’t meant to do it, that it had slipped out when he’d been trying to defend me. It was weird having someone try to stand up for me that way, and even if the results had kind of sucked, at least he’d made an effort. Like with his lectures about my helmet and seatbelt, or cleaning up my cuts, it all showed that he cared what happened to me. I guess that was finally starting to sink in. Maybe in time I’d be able to forgive him.

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