Chapter 2

2

TRISTAN

T ristan had worked with several people over the years. From speech therapists to behaviorists, he'd met them all. And every single one had been recommended to him by doctors or other specialists.

But not one of them had deigned to put him in his place and tell him he was viewing his son the wrong way.

Irritation was the first emotion he noticed when she'd lectured him. How dare she tell him how to raise his son? That's what the father was supposed to do. The way she made it sound, he didn't care about his son as much as he cared about the kid fitting in.

Didn't all parents want that for their children? Mathew was in the second grade this year. And every time he was picked up from school, he didn't seem to have any friends. His teacher couldn't think of a single child in his grade who consistently played with him.

That was understandable considering the fact that Mathew didn't speak unless he wanted to, which was pretty much only when it was people he was close to. How was he supposed to fit in with the other children if he wouldn't speak to them?

All of those thoughts stomped around in his brain until he finally allowed them to slow down enough to get what Dianna was probably trying to get at.

Mathew was special in his own right, and forcing him to conform was what everyone around him did. Even his own father was guilty of that problem. A twinge of remorse sliced through his chest as he watched Dianna continue her chatting, not bothering to ask Mathew a single question. This was the first time Tristan had seen his son at ease with someone he'd just recently met.

There was something calming about her presence that he couldn't put his finger on. Maybe she had a point. Right now, she wasn't expecting Mathew to do anything but be present.

Dianna stood and motioned toward the stall door. "You can go inside if you'd like. Molasses likes to be petted. We won't be able to ride him until later, but you can see for yourself how big he is."

Mathew beamed and nodded as he moved toward her. Dianna opened the door and Mathew slipped inside with her.

As soon as the stall door closed, Tristan leaned against it, resting his folded arms over the top. His focus was glued to the woman who had somehow managed to put Mathew at ease without coaxing or bribing him. She was a natural with him.

Every so often she'd glance in his direction then her focus would dart away once more. It gave him more opportunities to really study her. She had dark hair and brown eyes. Her voice was soft but firm. And when she smiled, he saw a hint of a dimple in her left cheek.

Dianna was pretty; there was no doubt about that. But there was more to her than that. Kind and genuine. That's what it was. Even though she had told him he was doing something wrong, he couldn't exactly fault her for it. He'd always appreciated it when someone could be blunt and tell him how it was. Mathew did the same thing. Even at the age of seven, his son didn't mince words.

Dianna placed her hands on her hips and flashed Mathew a big smile. "Well, you've been on a long trip, from what I understand. How about I show you to your cabin?"

Mathew's wide eyes bounced from Dianna to Tristan, then back. He moved out of the way and allowed Dianna to open the stall door so they could exit.

"If you'd like, we can assign Molasses to be your horse while you're here. You don't have to practice with any of the others if you don't want to." Dianna continued chattering as she walked beside Mathew and guided them out of the barn. Their feet chuffed in the snow until they made it to the sidewalk that would lead them to the cabins that had been built on the other side of the club.

Tristan's thoughts drifted from Dianna to Erika. He hadn't seen his ex-wife since Mathew was about two years old. As soon as she'd found out that Mathew was autistic, she'd bailed. It took at least three years for him to move past that betrayal. He'd thought she'd come to her senses, but when he'd gotten the divorce papers, he knew.

Erika didn't want to be part of this family.

The lingering scar from that experience made it hard to trust anyone with Mathew and even harder to trust anyone with his heart. Five years later and his whole world revolved around Mathew and his needs.

Tristan peeked at Dianna, and a ghost of a thought lingered in his mind, haunting him. If he found someone like Dianna, maybe he could learn to trust again.

He let out an audible huff just as they arrived at the front of a small A-frame cabin. The structure was probably only big enough to have one bedroom—maybe a loft area. There were at least six already built and what appeared to be space for another dozen. They had a large window at the top of the structure and two more small windows on either side of the door.

Dianna pulled out a keycard from her pocket and held it up so Mathew could see. "Do you want to do the honors?"

Mathew smiled from ear to ear and accepted the keycard without hesitation. His boots crunched against the salted sidewalk as he hurried toward the cabin and pressed the card against the reader.

Dianna followed him, her steps quick and sure. Tristan didn't have a chance to catch up with her to—what? He didn't feel like he needed to apologize, but there was a definite tension in the air that he wanted to clear. He knew he'd been tired and cranky acting earlier.

Mathew opened the door to the cabin without difficulty, then promptly returned the keycard to Dianna. Tristan leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, watching as Dianna followed Mathew to different parts of their new home for the next few weeks. He wandered to the small living room that would only fit about four people. There was a small fireplace in the corner and shelves with books. Surrounding a coffee table was a loveseat and two chairs.

Next, his son explored the kitchen. The table was incorporated into a nook with a wrap-around bench for seating. There was a fridge, microwave, and oven, but very little storage space in the way of cabinets and counter space. Mathew hustled down the hall, and Tristan heard Dianna's laughter as she followed him.

Tristan pushed against the doorjamb, ready to shut the door to keep all the cold air out, when he heard the sound of boots crunching behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Shane headed toward them with what could only be a gift basket.

Smiling in spite of himself, Tristan reached for the offered gift and nodded toward the cabin. "When you said you'd have lodging, I thought you meant some kind of motel. This is too much."

"Nonsense. This is what they were built for. No one wants to go through weeks of therapy and have to stay in a hotel. It's small, but I figured you wouldn't need the additional space." Shane glanced over Tristan's shoulder to the interior of the building. "How is Dianna doing?"

Tristan nearly choked on his laugh. "She's—interesting."

Shane's eyes darted back to Tristan. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing I can't handle."

"It's okay to tell me. She's new. But I needed to find someone local who could accommodate your schedule. Is something wrong?"

Tristan chuckled. "She's very blunt. Let's put it that way." He looked over his shoulder, making sure no one would overhear them. "Honestly, she said some things that I probably needed to hear."

"That doesn't sound good. If I need to have a word with her?—"

"It's fine, really. She's not here to impress me or get on my good side. She's here to help Mathew. And it looks like she knows what she's doing."

Shane didn't appear convinced, but he didn't argue. "Well, if there's anything you need from here on out and she can't get it for you, let me know. You're my guests, and I want this experience to be a good one."

Tristan nodded. "Thank you."

His friend turned and headed back the way he'd come. Tristan brought the gift basket into the cabin, kicked the door shut behind him, and placed the basket on the counter. Mathew and Dianna weren't back in the main area yet, but he could hear Dianna's voice. He followed the sound around to the back of the structure where there was a ladder leading to the highest point of the cabin.

Tristan quietly climbed up the ladder and poked his head over the edge to find a second, smaller bedroom with a twin bed on the far side. Dianna and Mathew were sitting in front of a small window cross-legged, with Dianna pointing outside.

"That's where we're going to exercise Molasses," she said, "before we learn riding techniques. And over there are where the trails go. I'm not sure if we're going to go riding out that way; it's really cold right now. That's the big stadium. We might be able to take Molasses there and teach you some tricks like jumps. We'll just see how it goes and what you're comfortable with."

Every so often Mathew would meet Dianna's gaze and smile. The boy seemed perfectly content to listen to her talk, and he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Tristan moved to head back down the ladder, but his foot slipped and he thunked his head on the edge of the floor.

Dianna and Mathew glanced in his direction. From where he stood on the ladder, it appeared he'd given Dianna some form of amusement.

Mathew scrambled to his feet and hurried over to him and whispered, "Do we get to go riding tomorrow?"

Tristan's focus flitted to Dianna, who had gotten to her feet as well. She appeared more settled than when they were in the barn, which was probably a good thing. He nodded to Mathew. "I'll have to ask your teacher first. But I think so. How about we climb down and get our things from the car."

He nodded, and Tristan met Dianna's eyes once more before he headed down the ladder. As soon as Mathew was within reach, he was able to pull him from the ladder and set him on his feet. They waited for Dianna to make it to the bottom before heading toward the front of the cabin.

She held out the keycard and offered him a smile. "I suppose you'll be needing this."

"Thank you," he said, reaching for it. His fingers grazed hers, and he was surprised to find they were warm.

The moment was fleeting and she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I don't believe there's anything else you'll need from me today. I'll be back tomorrow. We'll spend most of our time getting to know Molasses better. I'm sure Mathew will do great. Do you have any questions?"

He itched to bring up their previous conversation. But he wasn't sure how to go about it. The things she'd said were true. Society needed to be more flexible, but that wasn't how the world worked. The way he saw it, one day Mathew would need something, and he wouldn't have the tools to get it, not unless he learned how to communicate better.

Tristan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and shook his head. They didn't need to rehash what was said. They could both be right in their own ways. He wasn't responsible for how the world treated his son, but he could darn well be the person who helped his son survive in a world that wasn't ready to love him as he was just yet.