Page 29 of Sterling Clay

Clay shrugs. “So you sell the property as is. You get a job. You start fresh.”

“Not easy,” I whisper. “Not simple.”

“You stay with me, so you have no expenses.”

“I can’t do that,” I repeat.

“You can.” The corner of his mouth ticks up, like we are two kids playing that silly game of you-can’t-I-can my sister and I played as kids.

God, I miss Cecilia. I miss my grandmother. I miss my nursing job, my house, and my life. Who am I? When did I become . . . this? I stare down at my bent knees, my skirt hitched up and tucked beneath the fold of my legs. I’m sitting in an alley with my back against a wall literally and figuratively, feeling sorry for myself. The choices I’ve made. The man I thought I loved and now hated.

“Butterfly, give yourself a break.”

I turn my attention back to Clay who is still watching me. He sighs and swipes a hand over his silvery hair, cupping the back of his neck.

“When I was almost twenty-two, my dad died. Hung himself in the family barn.”

I gasp.

“He ran our family business into the ground. Took the dream my mother had and drove a spade right into it.” Clay fists the hand balanced over his knee, and thumps at the hard bone. “Stone and I did all we could to keep our family together. Keep our siblings in one home, fed and clothed. And I worked my ass off to prove that Sylver Seed & Soil wasn’t the failure our father had been. That business is my life. And I had to start over with it because of all the bad choices my dad made.”

Clay tosses an imaginary ball from one hand to the other. “He used the left hand to pay the right. He took money we didn’t have for his drinking and gambling debts and dug us into the ground.”

Clay pauses and licks his lips, staring out at the alley lot, vacant except for my Jetta and another car. “Ever hear of a phoenix?”

“The mythical bird rising up from the ashes.” I am all too familiar with the symbol.

“You’re a phoenix, Mavis. You got this.”

“But up doesn’t feel like a direction I’m going right now.”

“Give yourself today. Tomorrow we can make a plan.”

“We?” I choke. “I’ve already taken too much from you.”

Clay tips his head back against the brick wall and stares at me. “Like my space and time?” The corner of his mouth slowly ticks upward. “You aren’t taking anything. What I give to you, I do willingly, beautiful. Think about that.”

Hastily, Clay pushes himself upright and stands, brushing off his backside. Then he holds out both his hands for me to take and he pulls me upward.

A broken-winged phoenix struggling to rise up from the ashes, flapping my wings in the wreckage without a flight plan.

“How did you even see me here?” I exited the insurance office through the back stairwell and stumbled into this alley, falling against the wall once I was outside in the fresh air.

“Curmudgeon Bakery. I told you I stop by there before work. It’s around the corner and I parked there.” He points at a black truck on the side of the road within easy sight of my solitary position.

“I’m kind of pathetic.” I lower my head, but Clay catches my chin, tipping up my face.

“You’re not. And I’ve already told you, you are beautiful, but if you need to hear it every day, I’ll say it again and again.” He gives me another smirky grin. One that’s flirty but sweet, and for a moment, I pretend it’s special just for me.

“Now, how about coffee and a donut? I have it on good authority Curmudgeon Bakery makes the best of both.”

“Caffeine and a bad-for-me pastry? Who can say no to that. But don’t you need to get to work?” I remind him, having already taken up more of his time.

He shrugs, while chuckling. “I know the boss. I think I can handle him.”

I weakly smile back at Clay and then he does something that completely catches me off guard.

He pulls me close and holds me tightly to his chest, a hug I desperately needed. A comfort I craved.