“You're moving here permanently?”
“What, do you think I would build a place and not move into it?”
My mind is a whirl as I place the ice pack on his ankle. Neighbors? Sutton is moving here? We sit in the quiet for a moment as James runs to the bathroom to grab me another towel. My back is saturated.
“Lots of celebrities do,” I admit, because I’m sure movie stars have homes all over the world they barely use. Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “You want me to warm up your chicken pie?”
Since Sutton didn’t come in yesterday, Rochelle gave James and me a few pies that were leftover. I was planning on cooking them again tonight for dinner.
“Seriously?” His eyes alight like I just offered him the world, not a day-old potpie. “How can I say no to that— Ouch!”
He flinches as I pat antiseptic on his ankle before I blow on it a little to relieve the sting.
“Sorry…” I place his ankle on my knee and put the ice pack back on. He looks almost as good as new, leaning his head against the back of the chair.
“Hmmmm, chicken pie, your hands on my skin, and this warm fire is making me feel a certain way…” His words trail off, and then I notice that I have one hand gently cupping his ankle while the other holds the ice to his skin, my fingers caressing the spot. The move happened so naturally, I didn’t even realize.
“What way is that?” My voice is a mere whisper, and he looks me dead in the eye.
There’s no hesitation in his response. “Like I never want to leave.”
I swallow roughly as our gazes lock, the fire crackling in the background and the rain now pounding the roof.
Is it bad that I never want him to leave either?
22
Sutton
I’m warm. My belly is full, my leg all better, yet I’m on edge, because a ten-year-old is sweeping me up in a game of poker.
“Full house,” James says, placing his cards on the table.
Chuckling, I throw my cards down. “You’re a shark!” How the hell does this kid know how to play poker so well?
“He’s good.” Nikki nods, her expression gleaming with pride from where she stands in the kitchen doorway, watching.
“How did you get so good?” I’m in awe. If he keeps playing, he’ll rule Vegas for sure.
“I was stuck in my room a lot, so I played cards to pass the time.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
These two are so unique. I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of why she’s building a fucking wind turbine out of junk, but the fact that she is, that’s astounding. How does anyone know how to do that?
“Yeah, when I’m stuck in my room, I just watch TV.”
Looking glum, he admits, “I wasn’t allowed.” Again, another piece of their life falls from his lips, and I pocket the information away for later.
“Looks like you gained an amazing skill through it, though. I just wasted my brain watching TV and movies.”
“No, you didn’t.” Nikki steps over to us, frowning at me. “All those hours of TV are probably what got you so interested in acting. You were studying the craft, watching how others did it. You used Social Learning Theory.”
“Social what?” As usual, I have no idea what she’s talking about, and I could hang on to every word she speaks.
“It's a concept in psychology, emphasizing that people learn through observation, imitation, and modeling.” Her words come to me with warmth. There she goes again, spouting these highly intellectual facts like she’s asking me to pass the butter.
“Sawyer just told me I was wasting my time.” I think back to those days when his head was always in a book, studying for exams or tests, trying hard to get his law degree. Me? I was laid out on the sofa, a bowl of potato chips balanced on my chest, watching whatever TV show or movie was on at the time.
“Everyone learns differently. I bet Sawyer is probably a cognitive learner. Someone who absorbs and processes information through reading and thinking.”
