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His grin didn’t fade. If the kid was a way of poking at her, well, he wouldn’t mind poking now and again.Notbecause of that little tickle of awareness or the unwelcome pang of attraction, but because he wasn’t about to let her think she had the upper hand when it came to him.

“Why is that?” she continued, cocking her head with that kind of clinical study he thought they must teach in shrink schools.

“I didn’t have a dad either,” Gabe returned, because he knew giving her something would throw her off, surprise her—and it wasn’t the big something he’d never, ever tell her or anyone.

Some of that clinical detachment faded. “A boy doesn’t need a father. Plenty of kids don’t have fathers.”

He almost felt sorry for her, because he knew it was what she told herself. Much as Gabe recognized it as true, that a man could grow good and strong without a father, he could tell she didn’t believe it. Not yet. Someday she would, when Colin was off being the good man he’d inevitably be. But she wasn’t there yet.

Damn her for softening him toward her. “No, a kid doesn’t need a dad,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, hoping she’d see the truth in that. “But he does need the opportunity to spread his wings, usually far before the people around him are ready for it.” Hell, he knew it wasn’t his place, but he had a soft spot for the kid. And maybe even a little soft spot for how hard Monica tried to be a good mother. He’d been that little boy—not coddled or overprotected, but not given the freedom to make his own choices, learn his own skills. “Let him chop down a tree, Monica. I promise you, it’ll be good for both of you.”

She stared at him and, for one moment, all those masks she wore simply slid away. There was something like naked emotion and vulnerability on her face—so clear, Gabehadto look away.

“Be at our cabin at nine, then,” she said, her voice suspiciously scratchy. He didn’t look up until he heard her footsteps retreating.

Then he mentally kicked himself for opening his big, dumb mouth.

* * *

Monica didn’t like having a session when she was emotionally worked up. But she refused to let those emotions bleed into her patient’s time, especially when it was silly.

Why on earth would she letGabe Cortez, some childless former Navy SEAL she barely knew, give her parenting advice?

If she needed advice, she asked her mother. She mostly didn’t need it though, because she knew a ton about child development. She’d read all the books and lived the parenting life forten years.

But Gabe’s words shook her. She muttered a few curses just to get it out of her system. Then she stomped her foot on the snowy ground for good measure. She had ten minutes before she was supposed to meet with Alex for his weekly therapy session.

She needed a clear head. She was ready to suggest Alex move to once-a-month sessions instead of these weekly ones. He’d improved vastly, and much of it was due to the woman he was marrying and his willingness to communicate with her.

After all, as was the case with so many men she’d worked with, they had never learned how to verbalize fears and worries, especially after spending their early adulthood conditioned intonotdoing that. They had to learn or relearn the importance of laying down their burdens, even if it made them vulnerable.

She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. And didn’t she need to take some of her own advice?

“Fighting with Gabe again?”

Monica jumped at the sound of Becca’s voice. She hadn’t realized Becca had approached. “We don’t fight,” she said automatically.

Becca cocked her head. “Then what do you call it?”

“We don’t always see eye to eye.”

Becca laughed. “You rub each other thewrongway. Maybe because you want to rub each other the right way.”

Monica fisted her hands on her hips. “You did not just say that to me.”

“I did. And I one hundred percent stole it from Alex.” Becca grinned. “I’m too sweet and innocent to ever think of such a thing.”

Monica snorted. “Ha!” She eyed her friend, who wore maybe half as many layers as Monica did even though she was a tiny little thing. “Are you heading in?”

Becca nodded.

“Could you tell Alex I’ll be about fifteen minutes late?”

“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a phone call I’ll probably talk myself out of if I don’t make it now.”

“No problem. I’ll let him know.” Becca took the stairs of the porch and Monica frowned after her.