Page 48 of The Sandbar saga

"Congratulations." He stood back and shut the office door behind Jason. "Go ahead and take a seat."

He walked around the desk. Out of the corner of his vision, he caught Katie jogging through the backyard toward the pathway. Oblivious to him catching her, she pumped her arms in determination, skipping over the stepping stones leading her through the trees at the back of the property.

Sitting down harder than usual, he ground his teeth together. She'd picked a time when she knew he couldn't follow and talk her out of going back to her old house.

Needing to get through the appointment first, he said, "How have the exercises we talked about last time been working for you?"

Jason spoke. Race half-listened, more attuned to what was happening outside, out of his view and hearing.

After letting Jason get off what was on his chest, Race suggested continuing with his mental exercises of concentrating on the positive, making lists, and calling if any negative thoughts forced him into alienating himself from work, friends, and family.

"I'd like to keep coming in every two weeks." Jason stood. "I-I think that helps me validate that I'm making progress. Any longer than that and I get some anxiety."

"We'll keep your appointments in place. I'm pleased with your progress." He stood and shook Jason's hand. "Call if you need to talk."

"I will." Jason ducked his chin and left the office.

He waited until the door shut and gave Jason time to walk the path around the house to the driveway. Locking the file in the cabinet and knowing he had no more patients coming in today, he called his answering service and notified them that he'd be out of the office until ten o'clock in the morning.

Unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, he rolled the sleeves up as he walked through the trees and got on the path. He went in the direction he'd traveled almost daily since buying the house when he went to work at the clinic after grad school. It would take him seven minutes to get to Katie's old house.

He picked up his pace and jogged. Wearing his dress shoes, he couldn't break out in a sprint the way his heart was urging him to do.

Passing the bench near the stream, he searched in the distance, coming up on the curve before Katie's old address.

He slowed on the turn as the area opened up. He could see she hadn't come that way. Bending over, he braced his hands on his knees and caught his breath. Damn.

Exercise was a part of his routine. He habitually ran four to five times a week.

Yet he found himself sucking wind over his concern about Katie.

"Race?"

He lifted his head, spotted Katie carefully navigating the bushes and limbs, coming out of the backyard of her old house. His weakened state forgotten, he strode over and grabbed her upper arm and led her down the path, away from the property.

"What's wrong?" She struggled to keep up with him. "Why are you out here? You're all sweaty."

He'd gone out of his way to protect her, and she went behind his back, snooping around in her past. Resurrecting her childhood would set back her progress.

"What the hell were you doing?" He looked behind him to see if there was anyone around. "You're lucky the police weren't called, or the house alarm didn't go off. You can't trespass on someone else's property, especially here. You know how the neighborhood is when it comes to privacy and safety. Anyone could've seen you and called every damn person on all four streets in Sherwood Community."

"I was just—"

"There's no excuse for going over there." He slowed, knowing she struggled at his fast pace. "If you want information on your mom, you let me go through the proper channels."

"I wasn't looking—"

"You were looking for her." He stopped in the middle of the path and held her shoulders. "She's not there. Don't go back."

Her mouth tightened. Highly aware that if he pushed her too far, she'd shut down all communication with him.

He exhaled and squeezed her shoulders. "Let's go home."

They walked side by side. He slowed, making sure he allowed her to feel like she was in control of the direction they moved, and she wasn't being forced back to the house like a child. She was nineteen years old and needed to act like it.

When they broke through the trees and stepped onto the lawn, he pointed toward the pool. "Pick a seat. We're going to talk."

She followed him and sat down on one of the patio chairs, bringing her feet up to the seat and hugging her bent knees. He reached over and hooked her hair behind her ear so she couldn't hide her face from him.

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