Page 18 of Rusty

Just then he heard another knock. A timid one this time.

Janice.

Too late to change anything now.

The moment he saw her, Rusty's breath caught in his throat. She was wearing a pastel rose dress, knee-high socks, and a matching ribbon in her vibrant red hair.

"Hi, Rusty," Janice said shyly, her cheeks flushing a delicate rose. "I hope you don't mind the outfit. Sara thought it might help me feel more comfortable."

"Course not. You uh, you look . . . amazing. And appropriate. Very appropriate." Rusty's voice was thick with emotion. Clearing his throat, he focused on establishing ground rules for the session. "Now, before we begin, I want to emphasize a few things. Our sessions will be built on respect, consent, and confidentiality. I’m here to support you. I won’t tell anyone what is discussed in these sessions—not even Chuck. If there’s ever anything that comes up that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know and we’ll deal with it."

"Okay, Rusty," Janice replied softly.

It felt strange hearing her call him Rusty. Back in the past, she had only ever called him Daddy.

"Good,” he said. “Let's get started then."

As they sat down on the barrels, the scent of hay and the distant murmur of horses filled the air, creating a sense of calm and familiarity. Rusty knew how much Janice loved horses, and he hoped that being in the stables would help her feel at ease.

"Remember," Rusty said gently, his fingers brushing against her hand as he handed her a paintbrush, "this is a safe space for you to explore your feelings. Take your time, and know that I'm here to listen."

"Thank you," Janice whispered. “So . . . what am I meant to do here?”

“Anything you like,” Rusty replied with a smile. “You can be as Little or grown-up as you like. The only thing I ask is that you stay present, and we talk through anything that comes up.”

Rusty was improvising, but he did have some idea of what he was doing. Back on his ranch in Colorado, after he and Janice had split, Rusty had spoken to a Little friend of his who was a therapist, and she had done something similar to this with him. Rusty hadn’t stuck at it for long, though. He wasn’t normally one for talking or opening up. The only person he’d ever done much of that with was Janice.

“Oh, hang on,” he said. “I almost forgot.”

He reached behind the crate and pulled out a small, plush toy. It was a small, pink, heart-shaped toy, with a smiley face and two daisies in its pink hair. Now that Rusty thought about it, handing Janice a heart-shaped toy was a little awkward, given their history, but he felt confident Janice would understand the message behind it.

“Meet Little Miss Hug,” he said, handing the gift to Janice. "I thought she could keep Little Miss Giggles company."

"I can't believe you remembered!" Janice gasped, her eyes wide with surprise and heartfelt appreciation. She hugged the stuffie close, feeling the soft fabric against her cheek. "You used to read thoseLittle Missbooks to me all the time."

"Of course I remember," Rusty replied, his voice warm and tender. "And like Little Miss Hug says, 'Everyone needs a hug sometimes.' I figured this would be a nice reminder for both of us."

"Thank you," Janice murmured, her eyes misting over with tears. She quickly wiped them away and smiled at Rusty.

"You feel like painting?" Rusty asked, gesturing toward the array of art supplies spread out on the makeshift table. He was hoping that a constructive art therapy session might help to dispel the bad memories of the last one.

"Absolutely," Janice responded.

As she began to apply gentle strokes of color onto the canvas, Rusty encouraged her to open up about her feelings. He wantedher to feel safe and supported, free to express herself in any way she needed.

"Tell me what's on your mind, Janice. Take your time, and don't worry about saying the 'right' thing. Just let it flow, like the paint on your canvas."

"Okay," she agreed softly, her gaze still fixed on her artwork. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke. "I guess I've been feeling really lost lately. Like I don't know who I am anymore."

Rusty nodded, understanding the depth of her struggle. He knew Janice had faced many challenges in her life, and her sense of self had been undermined by the emotional abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her father.

"Let's explore that," he suggested gently, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a reassuring warmth. "How do you see yourself now, compared to who you were when we were together?"

Janice hesitated, her brush pausing mid-stroke as she considered Rusty's question. "I used to feel so free, like I could be myself without any fear or judgment," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. "But now, I just feel trapped, like I'm constantly trying to please everyone else but never quite measuring up."

As she continued to paint, each stroke revealing more of her inner turmoil, Rusty listened intently, offering words of encouragement and validation. It was clear to him that Janice desperately needed someone in her corner, someone to help rebuild her shattered self-esteem and guide her toward healing.

"Remember," Rusty said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "you don't have to carry this burden alone. I'm here for you, no matter what. Not as your friend, if that’s not what you want, but as someone who gives a damn. Okay?"

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