Page 65 of Sterling Clay

“Come inside me,” I whisper. He knows I’m on the pill now.

He glances up at me, double checking for certainty. Then, he surges once, deep and sharp, and stills. His eyes close, while he goes off. His expression strained yet strangely peaceful.

Like I’m the place where he wants to be most.

As he comes down from the high, his eyes pop open, bright and light. He releases my hand and lowers his forehead, pressing it against mine, as he cups the sides of my face, resting all his weight on me a second.

“I never want to lose you, beautiful.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, tipping up my nose to rub his.

While I struggle to accept promises, this is one I’m giving to him.

And hope I can keep it.

Chapter 22

[Clay]

My night with Mavis is over too soon, but I’m hopeful we’ll have more evenings like last night. Dutton sleeping safely through the night in his bed; Mavis remaining in mine.

Waking up to her was exactly as I told her a few weeks ago. She’s a lovely sight to see first thing. Every new day, I want to open my eyes to the way she looks beside me in bed. Rumpled hair. A crease on her cheek from the pillows. And a sweet smile to greet me.

We didn’t have time to come together again as the day calls for work and Dutton’s schooling, but I leave her with promises.

“Tonight, butterfly.” There is no question. She’ll be here. I’ll be home. She’s coming to my bed again.

“Tonight, honey,” she whispers, her cheeks coloring as I lean in to kiss her there before heading out for the Seed & Soil.

As Judd did not appear at the family meal—he opted out of a few too many for my liking while the rest of us honor the day—I hoped to catch him first thing this morning. He often works from home although he has an office here, and he sneaks in on Mondays to gather whatever he might need to run reports and mind his charts. He’s a geek about spreadsheets.

Judd has also been dating Heather Remington, a local beauty queen and daughter to the owners of Remington Autos, a wealthy set of car dealerships in the area and he uses her as his excuse to miss weekly dinners. He’s been with Heather for a while now and hinted earlier this summer he might ask the woman to marry him.

No one in the family responded, each of us biting our cheeks to keep from voicing our unfavorable opinion. Heather’s personality is as superficial as her beauty. She’s narcissistic and has a need to show off her wealth and small-town prestige. If she proved she loved our brother to distraction, her flashiness and materialistic tendencies would not have bothered anyone half as much. However, we never see Judd and her interact. He doesn’t bring her around us. And from an outsider’s perspective, she’s everything opposite our sensitive, reserved, almost reclusive, brother.

Thankfully, I see Judd before he slinks out the back exit of the Seed & Soil. He’s dressed casually in dark jeans and a dark tee with a hip, crossbody computer bag over his chest.

“Come into my office.” I clap his shoulder.

“Why do I feel like I’m being summoned to see the principal?”

I chuckle, knowing that never happened to Judd. He was the least likely to cause trouble in school. Quiet kid, often flying under the radar. Good grades. Teachers liked him. Not a jock, not a druggie, never an issue. He was almost boring, if you didn’t know him like I do. Being directly below me in the birth order of our family, separated by two years, we were close despite his distance from the family.

Judd takes that silly extra desk chair in my office, wedging the bag strapped to his body beside him in the chair. I can’t seem to get rid of that seat, even when I try to pawn it off to others.

I take my own chair and swivel so I face my brother.

“You missed another dinner.” I lean forward and clasp my hands together, resting my elbows on my thighs.

Judd looks away. “Is that it?” He doesn’t want a lecture. Hell, he’s too old to have one, but I still want to know what’s going on with him.

“Let’s chat about Saturday night.”

While Judd had been sitting upright in the desk chair, he slouches into the seat and tips back his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Can we count my attendance at Halle and Knox’s as my weekly check-in?”

His tone is one I don’t recognize, almost petulant, definitely dismissive. I should be complimenting his arrival at Halle and Knox’s place. Should be thrilled he accepted the invite and showed. And I am, but I want to know a bit more.

“Explain that punch.”