Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He growled.
“Winston was Maren’s dog,” he said. “It took a while for him to get used to me, but now we’re attached at the hip. He’s quite territorial.”
“You don’t say…”
Dax chuckled. “Anyway, I can see they just pulled up. Excuse me while I bring him out to them.” He clipped on the leash. “Come on, you fluffernutter.”
Ruff!
“Goodbye to you, too, Winston.” I waved.
I looked out the window and watched as Dax spoke to the groomer guy and helped get Winston into the car.
A few minutes later, he returned. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. I’m determined to get him to like me eventually. I’ll kill him with kindness. Although I haven’t garnered the courage to pet him yet.” I laughed.
“Thank you again for agreeing to come today,” he said.
“Of course. Thank you for hiring me. It’s not like I currently have a job or anything.”
“I was just about to make some espresso. Want one?”
“Sure. I could use a pick-me-up.” I smiled as I followed Dax into the kitchen.
He served me while I told him the full story of what had gone down with the last massage company.
He drew in his brows. “That guy didn’t lay a hand on you, though, right?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry that happened.”
“It’s a risk of the job.” I shrugged.
“Which is a damn shame. It shouldn’t have to be.”
“Actually, like I said, everything happens for a reason. Losing my job lit a fire under my ass to look for other opportunities. I applied for a potential opportunity to travel abroad and teach music. If I get it, I’ll be leaving this summer. It’s probably the only way I’d be able to afford to go to Europe so soon.”
He seemed to ponder my news. “So…you may be leaving, then?”
“If I’m lucky, yeah.” I studied his expression, searching for hints of disappointment, but I couldn’t read him.
“That’s amazing.”
“Thank you. Fingers crossed.”
“Now’s the time for adventures, right? While you’re young.”
“I suppose,” I said. “I mean, if I had a strong reason not to go, I’d stay. But I don’t have anything tying me here.”
“Yeah.” He stared into my eyes.
“You never answered when I asked how Rafe was in my message.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. Thank you for asking about him. He’s the same, actually. We have another meeting this week at the school. He sees a therapist regularly, but she hasn’t been able to get him to talk. The therapist has been attending these meetings, and we’re all brainstorming on next steps.”
“I’ve been doing some reading up on mutism. His is not really selective, right? Because people with selective mutism speak comfortably in certain situations but not others…”
“Correct. Rafe won’t speak at all. But he has the ability to speak. He’s just choosing not to, or perhaps feels like he can’t. His therapist has him illustrate his emotions on paper, but it’s typically abstract and not always easy to interpret. He’s actually an amazing artist. Before his mother died, he used to draw more often.”
“You said the mutism started after Maren died?”
He nodded. “Like clockwork. They definitely link it to the trauma of losing her. But Rafe’s exact situation is not something his doctor has ever seen before. It typically doesn’t last this long. Although there is apparently a name for it—traumatic mutism.”
“I’m sorry you guys are going through this. The mind is very complex, isn’t it? I hope that it works itself out somehow.”
“Me, too,” he whispered.
I looked down at his long fingers wrapped around the small espresso cup. I had a weakness for sexy hands, and Dax had the most beautiful pair.
He snapped me out of my trance when he said, “I’ve been listening to your music.”
I looked up and met his gaze. “That sort of makes me nervous, but I’m flattered.”
“You’re so good. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
I felt my face heat up the way it did when anyone complimented me on my music. “Thank you.”
“You’re blushing.”
“Yeah. I don’t handle compliments well.”
“Well, then I’ll stick to insults. I’m better at those anyway.” He winked.
We shared a smile.
“Seriously, though, that just means you’re humble,” he said.
“Who are you, Dax?” I asked.
He drummed his fingers along the table. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, who were you before you became this successful man? What led you to where you are today?”
“It wasn’t all pretty.” He offered a sad smile. “I grew up in New York state. The Catskills. My mother was a wonderful woman, but my father was verbally abusive. He owns a large cement company, and the expectation was always that my brothers and I would take over the business. I deviated from the pack and decided to do my own thing, built my success from the ground up. That was important to me. I also had no passion for the cement business. My father wasn’t happy with that, so he disowned me about seven years ago. Still won’t speak to me to this day. My mother and I have a cordial relationship, but it’s been on the down low so she can keep the peace with my father. My two brothers and I are also not on speaking terms because they decided to side with my dad. The whole situation sucks, for lack of a better word.”