Once in a Blue Moon (Bluebonnet, TX Book 2) - Excerpt

6. LOVE STRUCK BABY

Every Wednesday at ten o'clock Ty spent fifty minutes spilling his guts at a cost of two dollars a minute.

He was in the wrong business.

He didn't really whine. He couldn't be more thankful his brother had found Dr. Ritter. The sessions had helped him learn to deal with and began to move past Rhea, but some days he just hated going.

Hated looking at himself. Maybe it was a guy thing.

Before he left, he looked up Bettina's home phone number and stopped to call her. No one answered. He jotted down the number given on the recorded message, then stopped at Tim's and snagged his cell phone.

Now that the effects of last night's Xanax had worn off, he was taking Zack's visit, and the news that Jessa had seen Bettina at her midwife's much more seriously.

A part of him had hoped some neighbor would tell her they'd seen him cutting her grass, and she'd call or come by. That's why he'd gone back a second time. But he hadn't heard from her. How he'd managed to pull it off without the whole town talking about it he had no clue.

And now Bettina might be having his baby.

Which wasn't exactly something he could keep from his family.

But before he could deal with Bettina, he had to get through another session with Dr. Ritter. Thirty minutes later he sat in his regular chair. The nubby blue one with uneven back legs that sat on the right side of her desk.

"How was your week?"

After last night's especially vicious dreams, he felt ornery, and like a toddler, chose to ignore her.

And like a mother, she seemed to read him right. "Have a bad night, Ty?"

"Yeah. Real bad and I'm tired of it."

"What do you think will make them stop?"

"I don't know! Why don't you tell me?" He leaned over and rubbed his tired eyes. If anything, his fatigue had gotten worse the last couple of months, and he didn't feel like thinking today. Not about Rhea or Bettina, he just felt angry and cranky. And he'd much rather take his frustrations out on the back of a horse than be confined and forced to think.

She leaned forward, eyebrows arched, pencil and paper ready. "Bad week? Taking your meds?"

"Yes! And they're not helping! Why can't you wave a wand and make the damn things go away?" He stood and crossed to the window, unwilling to look to his left where Dr. Ritter sat.

"If the Xanax isn't working, then don't take any. We can try something else."

"But what about--"

"Quit taking them at night. Just keep some on hand in case you have a panic attack," she said calmly. Her voice was supposed to soothe him-bring him off the ceiling--but it didn't. Her chair squeaked as she turned in his direction. "What's really wrong, Ty? Besides the nightmares?"

Oh, not a damn thing. He'd been divorced three months. His ex-wife had gone to hell in a handbasket and there was a real good chance he was about to become a daddy. He leaned his head against the thick, tinted glass, looking down on the asphalt roof of the building below, then up at the slate grey sky. "Half the town stares at me while my wife smears my family name. The other half is just waitin' on me to lose it and ram one of my drumsticks though Billy Green's ear."

"Ex-wife."

"Whatever--she knows I won't do shit." The window felt cold against his fingers and forehead. His quip got no reply, and he let his mind wander. He blinked and watched the pigeon on the cement ledge, wishing for a minute he was one. He was sick of the talk floating around town and the huge tangled knot of a mess his life had become. "I just want one good night's sleep."