Page 10 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

Tate

I watched her out the window, pruning a tree in her yard.

Her earbuds in, round ass wiggling to whatever dirty beat was making her grind like a champ.

My pants grew tight and I frowned at myself, watching her from my house like a creeper but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away when I knew she was around.

First, there were her incessant questions when I was horseshoeing the other day.

Second, yesterday I went out to get my mail and she rushed outside at the same time and raced me to the mailbox.

I fought a smile at the memory of the triumphant grin she’d given me when she beat me.

Then she randomly asked what my favorite ice cream flavor was.

Including her stopping by the other night, that made three interactions in total and already she was a menace to my life. Shoving her way into it and trying to get to know me like she wanted to be my friend.

I had no friends.

I liked it that way.

My therapist disagreed.

I turned away from Gertrude’s twerking in the yard to pull on my shoes. My monthly therapy session was today, and I was not looking forward to it. Dr. Parker had insisted on setting me tasks to complete by my next session and I’d failed every single one of them.

I hadn’t fought any compulsions.

I hadn’t socialized or made friends.

And I sure as shit hadn’t gotten laid.

Okay, he didn’t ask me to do that last one, but it was implied when he said go out on a date and have a good time. He was constantly trying to get me to have a good time. Just like Gertrude, she wanted me to have fun. Why didn’t anyone understand that I was happy the way I was?

Are you?

I huffed at my intrusive thoughts and shoved them out of my mind, along with the urge to peek out the window again to see what Gertrude was doing now. But I never had been good at controlling my impulses. That was why I needed to see a therapist.

I looked out just in time to see her strip off her top and throw it to the ground.

Her skin shone in the early fall sunshine, creamy smooth, flawless and my tongue ached to trace over it.

I groaned, watching her dance around in her sports bra and tiny black denim shorts with edges as frayed as my control.

“Stop,” I grunted, clicking my fingers three times and tore myself away from the window. I left the house, driving into town to my therapy appointment.

The office was located above the local law firm. There were low-beamed ceilings, and plants decorating each corner. The white walls, bare of decoration, soothed me in a way I couldn’t explain, just like how the untidiness of the coffee table in front of the tattered couch irked me the same way.

“Tate, how have you been?” Dr. Neil Parker asked when I came in. He pulled off his wire-framed glasses and began cleaning them, taking a seat on the couch opposite.

Neil was an older man, his salt-and-pepper hair still thick and swept back off his forehead. Deep lines fanned around his mouth and eyes as evidence of a good life full of laughs.

The thing about Neil is, he’s kind of a dick. He could be harsh sometimes. His methods were occasionally questionable, and he didn’t take any shit from me. But this is also why I liked him and I’d made more progress with him than anyone else. So I put up with it.

I stared at the magazines strewn across the coffee table in abandon, trying so hard not to tidy them.

“Fine, I guess. And yourself?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah fine,” he replied, repositioning his glasses.

I leaned forward to scratch my leg and discreetly straightened a GQ magazine that had some random strawberry blonde-haired billionaire businessman on the cover.

“So, how did you get on with your tasks?” Neil asked.

“Real good,” I lied.

He tsked and looked away. “Tell me about them?”

I coughed into my fist. “Erm, well I had some drinks with a friend last week.”

“Which friend?”

“Um…Jack.”

Neil shot me a skeptical look. “Is that Jack Drayton? The guy who recently came out of prison?”

I nodded, suddenly hating small town life. I’d forgotten that everyone would know who Jack was. “Yep.” I tugged at my jeans, loosening them off my legs and reached forward to tidy another magazine, bringing it flush with the edge of the coffee table. I pushed out a satisfied breath.

“Didn’t realize you knew him?”

“Yeah well, he’s trying to adjust to life outside and works at Redemption Ranch, so I bumped into him there.”

“Great,” he said, clapping his hands together, eyes dropping to the magazines but not saying anything. He sat back against the couch and rested one ankle over the opposite knee. “What about fun? What have you done?”

“I’ve been to the bar a couple of times. Horseback riding. I went for a hike.” I could practically feel my nose growing.

“Hmm,” Neil said, then looked me right in the eye as he nudged both the magazines I’d tidied with his foot. I clenched my teeth, my jaw cracking. “Did you go on any dates? Ignore any impulses?”

My cheeks flushed as I concentrated on the magazines. “Not yet but I’m working on it.”

“Well at least that was a truthful answer,” he replied, and my eyes snapped to his. He knew I was bullshitting but he wasn’t mad, a small smile played at his lips. He stood up and went over to the window, pulling his glasses off.

“Why don’t you want to be helped, Tate?”

I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. “I do.” I reached forward to tidy the magazines again.

“Don’t touch them, Tate.”

A frustrated growl slipped out as I curled my fingers into a fist and drummed it against my kneecap. “I do want to be helped.”

He turned from the window, tapping his glasses to his chin thoughtfully. “And yet you won’t make any effort to change. Why don’t you want friends? A partner? A life of fun? You work so hard and fill every moment of the day so you have no time for anyone or anything else.”

“I do that on purpose, so I don’t have to spend time with my thoughts.”

“I know that, but why?”

“Because I like being alone!” I shouted. “I don’t want to get close to anyone because of my issues. I can’t do anything without it being done my way and—” I cut myself off.

“And?” he probed.

I swallowed. “People just fucking leave.”

“Like your dad?”

“Yes!”

“And your mom?”

“Yes,” I growled.

He nodded, holding up his hands, knowing I was close to losing it. He tilted his head at me, regarding me thoughtfully. “Why do you think everyone leaves you?”

My mouth floundered. I glanced around wildly, something cracking in my chest. “I…I don’t know.”

Neil went over to a plant and started investigating the leaves. “When did your OCD start?”

The switch up in his line of questioning threw me. “When my dad left, you know this.”

“Why?”

I glanced around like I didn’t understand what was happening. “What do you mean, why?”

He didn’t flinch. “Why, Tate?”

“Because—” I stopped, struggling to get the words out. Neil stared at me with his piercing eyes. “Because of my mom, everything had to be just right, or it would set her off.”

He shrugged. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, the slightest thing. Like the laundry not done properly. The clothes not pressed properly or put away right. If something was out of place she’d go into a spiral for days. I had to do everything perfectly to keep her happy, to keep the peace.”

“You had to make things so perfect that it was like you were walking on eggshells and terrified of upsetting her?”

I nodded.

“But she’s gone now,” he said gently. “So why do you still do it?”

“Habit?” I shrugged.

Neil shook his head. “Your mom needed everything to be perfect because maybe if it was, your dad would come back. And you feel the same.”

“No,” I denied, shaking my head but my stomach clenched sharply.

“Do you want your dad to come home, Tate?”

“No!” I roared, hating that my father still tried to worm his way into my life by any means necessary, not caring that I wanted nothing to do with him after the damage he caused. Irreparable damage. “I’m a thirty-two-year-old man, I don’t need my daddy anymore.”

Neil finished with the plant and faced me. “You do it because you’re scared.”

There was silence in the room as I glared at the messy magazines my brain was desperate to straighten but my pride wanted to prove I could leave them alone.

My fingers twitched and nerves screamed, but I could do this.

My vision started to blur and I realized I was tearing up.

It didn’t happen often but Neil had picked at a particularly sore wound.

A tear trickled down my cheek and I brushed it away angrily, sniffing.

“Tate,” he sighed. “I want to help you, but you’ve got to help yourself. I’m begging you. Otherwise, I don’t know what more I can do for you.”

The resignation in his voice scared me. I didn’t want to get referred to another doc. I liked Dr. Parker and despite what he thought, I did get something out of these sessions.

I sniffed again, wiping my hand over my face. “I’ll try harder. Just give me some more time.”

“Next month,” he agreed. “Next month I want progress.”

I nodded. “Okay, I can do that.” Can’t I?

“I’m hard on you because I worry about you. I don’t want you to go the same way as your mama,” he said softly.

I bristled and turned my glare on him. “I wouldn’t do that, Neil.”

He held up his hands. “I’m just concerned.”

“I appreciate that, but that’s not something you need to worry about. I would never.” There was still time left in my session but mentally, I was done for the day. I told Neil that and he let me leave without a word, I think he knew he’d pushed too hard today.

I drove home, blaring music all the way, feeling all the feelings and hating every second of it. You couldn’t control feelings.

Parking on my driveway, I swore under my breath when Gertrude came out of her house, a box in her hands. She was waiting for me to step out of my truck, with an eager smile on her face that twisted my insides even more.

“Hey Tate, I made you something,” Gertrude said, holding the box out to me.

I brushed past her. “No thanks.”