Rocco and Mandy: A Red Team Wedding Novella (Book #6.5)(6)
Kit set his hands on his hips. They’d stopped walking. He bent his head.
Mandy’s heart beat hard. She clarified her position before he could shoot her idea down: “I’m not asking permission to put a garden at my place. I’m giving you fair warning that I will be working with some special contractors. I know I can’t do that without Max and Greer clearing them. That’s why I’ve brought this up.”
“Can it wait, Em? Let the shrink work with him first?”
“No. Winter will be here before you know it. When the ground freezes, we won’t be able to plant the trees.”
“What are you going to tell Rocco?”
“That I’m putting in a little garden.”
Kit frowned. “All right. Give the guys the info they need to clear the company. And give me some heads-up when the work’s going to start.”
Mandy nodded. “Thank you.”
“And take Selena with you if you have to go around to landscapers.”
“I will.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, sis.”
“I hope so, too.”
Chapter Three
Dr. Kimble’s suite was not extravagant, Rocco discovered at 0900 Monday morning. Besides the small waiting area and front desk, there was a records room, a conference room, and two counseling offices, one of which doubled as his office. That was where Rocco sat, awaiting the doctor. The whole suite was badly in need of a facelift, though he supposed the Scandinavian teak furniture and shag carpets had been out of fashion long enough to be in again.
A barrel-chested man wearing tan khakis, a white turtleneck, and a brown cardigan came in. His thick white hair stood out at odd angles all over his head.
“Good morning,” he greeted Rocco.
Rocco nodded, but didn’t stand and didn’t offer to shake his hand. He didn’t trust counselors; he didn’t like getting his head shrunk, but then he didn’t particularly like it exploding either, which was why he was there.
Dr. Kimble removed his cardigan and draped it over the chair at his desk. He picked up a clipboard with some papers in it, and a notepad and pen, then came over to sit on the chair facing the sofa where Rocco sat.
“I hope you were offered coffee or tea or water,” Dr. Kimble said.
“I was.”
“So, Rocco, what can I do for you?”
Rocco kept all the warmth from his face as he said, “Not much, I imagine.”
“Why are you here?”
“I was told to come.”
Dr. Kimble nodded. “Your boss, Kit Bolanger, phoned me last week, filled me in on some of your background.”
Good. Hopefully that obviated the need for Rocco to start yakking.
“How long have you been back from Afghanistan?”
Counting the time he’d spent at the hospital in Germany, his extended stay in the care of the shrinks at Walter Reed, and the time before he’d joined Tremaine Industries, it had been longer than he realized. “More than a year.”
The doc nodded again and made a note. He looked over at Rocco. A minute passed. Then another. “I can spend our time together asking questions, but I don’t think that will help either of us get to the heart of what’s ailing you. How about you tell me what’s going on?”
Yeah, that would be sweet. Sum up his whole existential nightmare in one f*cking sentence. If he could do that, he sure didn’t need a shrink. He got up and started pacing. “They said you were a veteran,” he said, deflecting the focus of their convo from himself.
Dr. Kimble nodded. “The Persian Gulf War.”
“What did you do there?”
“Anything I was told. Is that what you did in Afghanistan?”
Was it? He’d been ordered to get close to Ghalib Halim, Kadisha’s dad, by any means possible. Did that mean he’d been ordered to marry Kadisha? Or had he thought up that special hell all by himself?
“Did you follow orders in Afghanistan, Rocco?” the doc asked, breaking into his musings.
Rocco paused mid-stride and looked at him. “Yes.”
“How is your sleeping?”
Had the doc been told he couldn’t get in bed with Mandy anymore? “Fine.”
“Why did you go riding a few days ago instead of having dinner with your friends?”
Fucking Kit. “I felt like it.”
“Why?”
“Did Kit tell you I don’t like having my head shrunk?”
“Do you like being held hostage by your mind?”
“What the f*ck does that mean?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“He said you were a sherpa and could lead me out of my head. Are you?”
“Maybe. Once I figure out what’s going on. But I think you already know what that is, else you wouldn’t be so protective of it. What were you like as a child?”
Again Rocco stopped pacing and stared at him. “Odd.”
“How so?”
“I was the only kid on the ranch where my mom worked.”
“Lots of kids are only children. What made you different?”
Rocco shrugged.
“Was your dad at the ranch?”
“No. Mom said he was dead.”