Page 10

It certainly wasn’t fast moving, but it was prettier than any ride in the truck might have been. Some of his irritation at Monica’s switch back to nosy therapist eased. It was hard to hold on to it as Colin’s small, freckled face slowly morphed into big-eyed wonder.

Gabe was only doing this for Colin, and he’d put up with the shrink for a few hours for the sake of that.

But this was the last favor he did for them, and that was that.

* * *

About halfway out to the area of Revival Ranch that boasted trees that could be cut down and used for decoration, Monica felt whatever guilt had been niggling in her stomach lift. It was hard to stay ashamed of her own actions when a beautiful white-and-gray canvas stretched out before her.

The ride was surprisingly smooth as Pal trotted along the fence line. Every once in a while, she glanced at Colin, who looked possibly as happy as she’d seen him since they’d moved here last summer.

She tried not to look at Gabe, even when he instructed her to turn here or go there. But when her gaze did drift his way, he was sitting next to Colin looking hard and stoic. Unreadable. Untouchable.

She should heed those looks. She’d only ever had patients who’d come to her because they wanted to or been forced to, so she hadn’t quite learned the delicate task of just…waiting.

Then again, she was friends with Becca just fine without any attempts to psychoanalyze, so maybe it wasn’t so much history as her own perceptions. She’d decided Gabe needed therapy because of what she knew had happened to him. Maybe that wasn’t fair.

“Stop here,” Gabe instructed as they came upon a small clump of evergreens. Some cattle were huddled together around the trees. When Monica had expressed some dismay at the poor cows in all this frigid weather, Becca had laughed at her and explained the cows were fine. They were fed and watered and had trees to block the wind.

Monica was sure Becca knew what she was talking about, but it still made Monica feel a bit sorry for them. No matter that they looked content huddling there.

“Well, pick a tree,” Gabe instructed, clearly not looking for a leisurely outing.

Monica looked at the trees and wrinkled her nose. “They’re all so tiny.”

Gabe’s eyebrows lifted until they were hidden underneath the stocking cap he wore. “Did you move into a mansion with twelve-foot ceilings without my knowledge?”

She scowled at him. “No, but surely we can fit something taller than this.”

“They look smaller out here. In your cabin, you’ll wish you’d gone smaller.”

“Impossible.”

“Tell me you’ve got a little more sense than your mom, runt.”

Colin straightened in his seat, then looked at her very seriously. “We should at least check them out up close, Mom.”

Monica tried to hide a smile and replied just as seriously. “You know, I think you might be right.”

They piled out of the sleigh and walked through the little cluster. Close up and right next to them, Monica begrudgingly realized Gabe was right. Most of these wouldn’t even fit in the cabin, let alone something bigger. There were maybe two possibilities, and they looked so regretfully tiny.

But then again, their cabin was tiny. Teeny tiny.

“I think this one would fit,” Colin said, hands on his hips, looking very serious and adult as he studied it.

“I think you’re right,” Monica said, trying to be just as serious. “Let’s get the tools then, and Gabe can cut it down for us.”

“Aren’t you going to let Colin chop it?” Gabe asked, smiling lazily as he stood next to the sleigh.

Monica tried not to scowl. It was the deal they’d made. Damn it.

“Seriously? I get to use a saw?” Colin asked, so awed it almost made Monica forget a saw was, you know, a sharp blade of potential death and dismemberment. Almost.

Gabe happily pulled a saw and an ax out of the sleigh, and suddenly it looked less like a picturesque novelty and more like a little wagon of destruction.

“First an ax, then a saw.”

Colin’s jaw actually dropped and his head seemed to move in slow motion toward her. “Are you really going to let me?” he asked.