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T he office was quiet, lit by the mellow afternoon sun filtering through the blinds. The beams of light fell across the playmat where Navy sat babbling to her stuffed lion. Occasionally, she’d pause to slap at the rectangle of light on the floor as she learned about the world.

Rhae smiled at her. “What did you find, Navy?”

Her daughter looked up at her, drool on her chin from the tooth still trying to break through the gum, and kicked her legs excitedly. She picked up her lion and flapped him around, gurgling louder.

Throwing a look at the clock, Rhae saw it was getting close to the time when Decker Jansen, the veteran known as Dutch, came in each week. He wasn’t quite ready to talk—not about the big things—but he came willingly and regularly to sit with Navy.

He didn’t say much to her daughter, but she saw how he settled around her.

Dutch had a very interesting case. When he arrived at the Black Heart Ranch, he didn’t speak a word. It wasn’t that he physically couldn’t . He just didn’t.

Over the course of months he was in the program, he did everything on offer to expedite the healing process, bouncing between her office and the resident psychiatrist, Bella. He also participated in horse therapy with Willow, and recently had begun art therapy with Honor.

At some point, he had a breakthrough. Rhae wasn’t quite sure what did it—maybe all of the sessions finally put him at ease, or it was being around other veterans with similar pasts, or both.

Either way, the day Dutch walked into her office and he answered her greeting with a deep, “Hello,” she almost fell out of her chair.

Right on time, he knocked on the door. She hurried over to swing it wide, a smile on her face.

“Glad to see you today, Dutch.”

He dipped his head in greeting, saying nothing. A frown tugged at her brows, but she didn’t let him see. His silence was probably nothing.

He walked over to Navy, and she saw the guarded expression in his eyes vanish as he looked down at her little girl.

Navy squealed at the sight of him, her arms shooting up to be picked up.

He smiled gently and picked up her daughter, moving to his usual armchair and settling her in his lap.

Rhae took the sofa, notepad in hand. For several minutes, she simply jotted observations about Dutch. His shoulders seemed stiffer, pushing upward toward his ears higher as he seemed to curl into himself tighter.

“Navy still hasn’t gotten that tooth she’s been working on,” she said to get the conversation going.

He tipped his head, studying Navy’s drooling mouth but said nothing.

Rhae’s chest hollowed out. A setback. She’d worked with several military persons who experienced them, and they were never easy to break through.

Navy wiggled to get out of Dutch’s lap, and he set the baby on the floor. She crawled a few feet away and rolled on her back, gnawing on her rubber cow.

Dutch moved to sit beside her. When she dropped the slobbery toy, he handed it back to her. Navy dropped it again, and he placed it in her hands.

Soon they were playing the drop it and pick it up game. Rhae looked on, watching Dutch’s face. Under the ball cap he wore low over his eyes, he was ruggedly handsome. She couldn’t see any scars on the surface—all of his were buried under the skin.

Navy let out a giggle as he made the cow trample over her belly.

A low noise from the doorway brought her head up to see that Denver had pushed it open. He took up the whole doorway, arms crossed.

Rhae shot to her feet, moving to stop him from entering during a patient’s session, but before she could take a step, he crossed the room. In two long strides, he planted himself between Dutch and the baby.

“I’ve got this,” Denver said casually. Too casually. “I’ll play with my daughter today.”

Dutch blinked, thrown.

Rhae swallowed a gasp and lurched toward Denver. She laid a hand on his arm, trying to haul him out into the hallway to talk. But Dutch felt too out of sorts after the interruption.

He gained his feet and hurried to the door. Right before he vanished through it, Rhae called out, “We’ll catch up soon, Dutch. Come back later.”

But he’d already ducked out of the office, gone.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the atmosphere in the room changed. The air seemed to thin. The sunlight seemed harsher now, even though nothing had changed.

Rhae slowly turned to Denver. “What the hell was that?”

Denver shrugged.

“You mean you don’t know why you came through a closed door into one of my sessions and made my patient feel unwelcome?”

“He was just playing with the baby.”

“Is it that you didn’t want him near Navy? He’s trustworthy—all of these guys are. If I thought Navy was in any danger, they wouldn’t be around her.” She settled her hands on her hips, fuming inside.

Denver’s eyes flared with a gray warning. “She’s my child.”

She sucked in a breath. “Yes. She’s your child. But she’s everybody’s baby, Denver. You don’t understand this place yet.”

His brow lowered, expression tightening. “What does that mean?”

“It means Navy’s not just a baby. She’s…a bridge. She disarms people. She helps them talk when they can’t even look me in the eye.” Her voice was trembling now, half anger, half desperation for him to understand. “She’s part of the healing here.”

He stared at her like she’d betrayed him. “My child is a therapy baby ?”

The words were clipped. Cold. And it pissed her off more than she expected.

“You’re twisting it,” she snapped. “It’s not like I strap her to a chair and wheel her into sessions. These men—your fellow veterans—they gravitate to her. She gives them something to hold on to.”

His jaw flexed. “And I’m supposed to be okay with that?”

“Jesus, Denver.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “You don’t get to swoop in after months away and start gatekeeping who gets to love her. She’s mine too.”

He turned away, hands on his hips, breathing hard.

Rhae continued, voice gentler now. At this moment, she needed all of her wisdom and empathy about how he must feel to step into Navy’s life later than he wanted.

“I know you missed a lot. I know it hurts. But that doesn’t mean you get to shut everyone else out. This place? These people? They helped raise her when I was falling apart.”

From losing her life to Robert Ravencroft.

From losing Denver.

He didn’t answer.

She stepped closer, taking in the waves of irritation rolling off him, filling her nose with the pine and sap scent of him. He had been splitting wood.

She pitched her voice quieter. “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m—”

“You are. And I get it. I do. But you can’t bring that energy into this space. Not with my clients. Not with our daughter.”

He spun to face her again, eyes full of something wild and protective and… lost . “I just…I hate the way they act like she belongs to them too.”

“She kind of does,” Rhae said faintly, meeting his eyes. “Not like we do. Not as parents. But emotionally? Navy is their anchor. And whether you like it or not, she’s helped them. More than any of us expected.”

Denver’s expression shifted between hurt, confusion and defensiveness.

“Please understand I’m not saying this to keep you out,” she added. “I’m just trying to explain how things operate.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m just a guy trying to catch up.”

That cracked something in her, piercing through her anger. She stepped forward and laid a hand on his chest.

“You don’t have to catch up,” she whispered. “Just be here . With us. For her. That’s all she wants.”

He swallowed hard, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m trying, Rhae. But it’s hard.”

“I know.”

They stood like that for a moment, quiet, breathing in sync.

Then she pulled back slightly. “But we’re not going to solve this right now. We’re both too keyed up. And I have a session starting in ten minutes.”

“I thought you told me you don’t really have appointments.”

“I don’t. But Gabe comes in around this time every day after chores.”

Denver nodded, stepping back. “Yeah. Okay.”

Her heart squeezed as she looked at him. “Can we talk more later? When Navy’s asleep?”

He hesitated, then gave her a tired nod. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot of work to do with the security agency if I’m going to be part of it. I’m not sure what will be harder—organizing the office or my brothers.”

She offered him a sympathetic smile.

Needing the contact, he brushed his fingers over her knuckles. “I’ll see you later.”

She walked him to the door and opened it for him. He turned back once before stepping out, eyes searching hers.

“I didn’t mean to mess anything up.”

“Nothing that can’t be remedied with a conversation.” Her voice was gentle. “But you do have to trust me.”

He gave her a faint smile and left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Rhae leaned against it, head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. Her chest ached. With love, with frustration, with longing.

This wasn’t just a disagreement or a misunderstanding.

This was the hard part of becoming a family.

It was about making room for each other’s pain, even when it stung.

She glanced down at Navy, who stared up at her with wide, trusting eyes.

“I hope we figure it out, sweet pea,” she whispered.

Because she wanted this life with Denver.

She just needed him to understand that love wasn’t measured by possession—it was measured by presence.

Maybe tonight, after Navy’s bath and bedtime, they could sit down and talk more calmly.

And maybe—just maybe—he’d start to believe that sharing love didn’t mean losing it.

It meant making more.

* * * * *

Denver paused outside Rhae’s office, jaw clenching and unclenching in time with the aching throb of his heart.

He didn’t like how he left things with Rhae and for being so damn possessive of Navy. Hell, he hadn’t even picked her up or kissed her soft, round cheek.

And he’d really fucked things up for Dutch. Denver was no therapist, but he saw how the man’s face closed off as he walked out.

Dammit.