Wolf Haven

“Good.”

“Any other symptoms I should know about?”

“I get panic attacks if I’m in a small, dark room.”

“What else?”

Sky bit down on her lower lip, her lashes sweeping downward. Iris was acting as if none of this bothered her. Was she really contemplating hiring her? How much should she divulge? Fear gnawed at her. “I get anxiety when I’m overly stressed.”

“Can you give me an example of it, Sky?”

She lifted her lashes and raised her head. “I got hired at a hospital over in Casper when I got released from the Navy. I found out very quickly I couldn’t stand the constant stress of E.R. work like I had before. I get rattled, and I’m no longer cool, calm or collected in that circumstance.”

“The stress level around here on a scale of 1 to 10 is a 3. Can you handle that?”

“Sure.”

“Good,” Iris said. She folded her hands and gave her a gentle look. “I like you, Sky. We try and hire vets around here. Vets have always been good for our ranch because they are hard workers who are responsible, and they’re loyal. I see those same qualities in you. I’m okay with your PTSD. We have good health insurance for all our employees. Your wounding came from war. It changes a person sometimes permanently, but you know what? No one can steal your soul from you.” She smiled a little. “I’d like to hire you, Sky. I think you’ll be a fine addition to our growing staff. How about I take you around and show you our place, the dude-ranch portion, the medical office? After this we’ll go over to the wildlife center and you can meet Gray, your boss. How does that sound?”

Sky’s heart skittered briefly with joy. It was the first time since her torture that happiness had threaded through her dark depression. “Thank you, Iris. I’d love to come work for you, for the ranch.”

Eyes twinkling, Iris slowly stood up and threw the old straw hat on her head. “Kinda thought this might be the perfect environment for you, Sky. You ready to check out your new digs?”

Was she? Euphoria, sweet and strong, soared through Sky. She sat there savoring the hope that came with it. Iris was smiling at her, kindness shining in her eyes. “More than ready, Iris.”

“Come on,” she urged, waving her hand toward the door.

* * *

“HEY, IRIS, YOU wanted to see me?” Gray closed the screen door to the office. His boss was sitting behind her desk.

“Indeed I do. Come on in for a minute.”

Gray removed his baseball cap and sat down in front of her desk.

“I’m sorry we missed you this morning. I just hired Sky Pascal. She’s an R.N., and I was hoping to have her meet you at the wildlife center.”

Gray grimaced. “Sorry. I had to run into town unexpectedly and pick up some supplies from the Horse Emporium.”

Waving her hand, Iris said, “I understand. Anyway, we need to have a chat about our latest employee, who will be your assistant.”

“Okay.” Gray saw some darkness in Iris’s normally bright, shining blue eyes.

Iris handed him the résumé. As Gray read through it, she shared the details from the interview she’d had with Sky. When she mentioned the PTSD, his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing intently on her.

“None of this is in her résumé,” he said, handing it back to her.

“She came clean with me.” And then Iris smiled faintly. “Just like you did during your interview with me.”

Gray flashed her a wry look. “I like her already. She’s honest.”

“That’s what I felt. It took a lot for her to discuss the situation with me. It was highly stressful on her.”

“What caused her PTSD?” Gray knew nurses would sometimes be at forward operating bases, and they got shelled and attacked by the Taliban. That was enough to give anyone PTSD.

“She told me she was in a helicopter crash and then captured by the Taliban and tortured.”

Instantly, Gray’s brows went down. He felt suddenly protective of the woman he’d seen this morning. “What?” That blew him away.

“Yes,” Iris said, going on in a low voice, “she said a SEAL team rescued her two weeks later. She spent six months at Balboa Naval Hospital after that. And then the Navy gave her an honorable medical discharge.”

His knuckles whitened around the arms of the chair he sat in. Gut tightening, he felt sick about it. “She looked fine this morning,” he muttered. “I saw her drive in and get out of her car.”

Iris raised an eyebrow. “Looks are deceiving, Gray. You probably know that better than most of us because of your SEAL training.”

Stunned by the information, Gray sat there, a host of raw, painful feelings twisting through his gut. “Yeah, I do know. But, Iris, this is rare. Rare for a woman to be captured and tortured. I mean, I’ve never heard of it while I was in.”

“It was bound to happen,” Iris said bluntly. “Women are serving in combat zones now. There are no lines of demarcation any longer.”

“I don’t deny that,” Gray said, scowling. Sky Pascal had looked so clean, untouched and beautiful this morning. God, what must she have gone through? “Did she say what kind of torture?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. I felt it was enough she told me. And it took everything for her to say it. She really struggled.”

Nodding, Gray felt his throat close up. His mind clicked along at a million miles an hour. “Damn.”

“Look, Sky knows you were a SEAL. I told her you two shared one thing in common—PTSD.”

“Yeah, that’s the truth,” he admitted darkly.

“But I need to warn you she has nightmares. Told me she wakes up screaming from them.”

His heart ached. For two years, Gray had been numb. Now he was filled with all kinds of emotions, as if his feelings were pulling out of their dormant state and coming to life once again. Reeling from the information, he rasped, “How often?”

“She said pretty often.”

“It’s still fresh in her,” he said. “That’s why.”

“Last I heard, you were getting nightmares about once every couple of weeks.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But initially, especially the first year after the experience, a person can get nightmares three to six times a week. It’s brutal, Iris.”

“Guess that’s the phase of healing she’s in,” Iris said. “You up to dealing with this? Because the employee house is where both of you will be living when you’re not doing your eight hours of work around here.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Gray assured her.

“Maybe you can be of support?”

“Sure.” Pushing his fingers through his short brown hair, Gray added, “I can help, but damn, Iris, I’m not a psychotherapist. I could do more damage to her than help.”