Four Letter Word

Mona was good people. Straight up.

“Brian.” She greeted me with a smile, pushed the glasses higher up on her nose, and set down the paper she’d been reading when I stepped inside, giving me her full attention.

“It’s good to see you,” she added, sounding hopeful.

She wanted me to hang around and talk. I knew this. Mona always tried putting her own version of therapy on me every time I stepped in here, the “talk about your feelings” kind of therapy I wasn’t interested in, because she knew the story and, thus, felt sorry for me.

I hated the pity.

And like I said, I was only there to talk about two things.

But Mona was cool so I didn’t fault her for wanting more out of me; I just never hung around long enough to give it to her.

And I wasn’t about to start now.

I walked to her desk, carrying the envelope with my head down, eyes not focused on anything in particular and doing this to avoid the compassionate look I knew was in hers.

It was always there.

“Got next round’s payment. It’s a little more than you ask for, so throw in an extra lesson or something. Whatever he wants. Maybe let him go longer on a few days if his parents are cool with that. Your call.” I dropped the envelope on the desk and lifted my head to add, “Just make sure it stays with him.”

She placed her hand on top of the envelope. “Of course. It’ll be put into Owen’s account straightaway.”

“Good,” I said, nodding, then tucked my hands into my pockets and watched her slide the envelope into a drawer.

“He doing okay? Is he …improving?”

Mona folded her hands in front of her. Her eyes grew soft and she sighed.

I braced myself.

“He’s enjoying it, which is the most important thing, so he doesn’t realize it’s work for him when it is. Some activities he enjoys more than others. There are things the therapist asks him to do that he struggles with, but he pushes through ’cause he wants to get to something he likes. That’s typical. Not everything is going to come easy to him. You have to remember—in the end, this is still therapy. We want everyone to have a great time on the ranch, but if it was easy, they probably wouldn’t need it. You know?”

Again, I nodded.

“But this isn’t a cure. I wish it was, Brian. I wish this place had the power to change everyone’s prognosis, but for kids like Owen who sustain that type of injury, we’re riding on a lot of hope here.”

My lips pulled tight.

I knew this. She didn’t need to tell me. I knew after speaking to people in the medical field what the outcome was likely to be for this kid, but I’d also read up on this type of therapy.

People recovered. Miracles fucking happened. Every day they happened. After months of being on a horse, some were able to do things now that they never thought they’d be able to do, like stand unassisted or take a step, which was why I knew this was going to work.

It had to.

He deserved the life he was supposed to have, and this place was going to give it to him.

“If you want, you could stick around tonight and watch him in action, maybe talk to Mr. and Mrs. Burns and—”

I turned and headed for the door, cutting her off. Her suggestion was asinine.

What the fuck would they do if they saw me?

“I’ll see ya, Mona,” I said, my hand poised for the knob.

“Brian.”

I stopped and lowered my arm. I didn’t look behind me.

I heard the heavy roll of wheels on carpet. I knew Mona had pushed out her chair and stood up, but again, I didn’t look back to confirm it.

Head lowered, I kept my eyes on the door and pulled in a breath, releasing it slowly.

“They want to know where the money is coming from,” she informed me, her voice gentle but growing louder in a way I knew she was moving closer. “They appreciate it so much, you know that, but they keep asking me, Brian. A one-time anonymous donation is one thing, that’s believable, but to have their bill paid in full every time with sometimes extra funds added to their account, it raises suspicions.”

I finally turned my head.

Her eyes moved to the side, avoiding mine, then came back when she added, “I know you said you didn’t want them to know, but I think they just want to show their appreciation somehow. I’m sure they wouldn’t be angry.”

“They can never find out, Mona,” I said, my voice hard and final, my eyes burning into hers as I turned more to fully face her. “Never. They ask, you tell them you keep getting donations from local charities, church groups, or whatever the fuck you wanna come up with, I don’t care, but you are to never tell them I’m the one paying for this. That was the deal.”

“But—”

“They can’t know,” I growled.

Her hand came up between us, palm out facing me. “Okay. Okay. I understand, Brian. I won’t say anything.”

I inhaled through my nose, exhaling with my eyes pinched shut.

“They won’t know unless you want them to know,” she added quietly, and I felt her touch on my bicep.

It reminded me of something my mother would do. Or my sister, Jenna.

Both of them were good women, too. Compassionate. Caring. Always wanting to take care of people.

Mona was just being Mona. She was looking to take care of me. She thought I deserved the recognition.

I opened my eyes.

“Appreciate you doing this for me,” I said, watching as she pulled her hand back and adjusted her glasses again. “Sorry for using that language in front of you. That was disrespectful.”