Page 37 of Sterling Stone

I lost the woman I thought was the love of my life. Not by death, though. Not like Dad.

Bailey Cummins turned out not to be the woman I thought she was.

My gaze leaps to Cort again.

Some say I dodged a bullet with Bailey. Cort caught the shot instead. Doesn’t seem either of us fared particularly well when it came to her.

With a heavy sigh, I remind myself I’ve always wanted the best for my old friend. Even if he stole my girl, I didn’t wish him ill, and I certainly never wanted what eventually happened to him and his son, Josh.

I’m not vindictive. I don’t seek revenge.

I only want what’s best for everyone.

With that, I give a final glance at Taxi, accepting that apparently, I’m not what’s best for her.

12

[Taxi]

It’s hard for me to define myself. With my humble beginnings and nomadic upbringing, I can’t say I’m a country girl or city woman, but I embrace the part of me that works with urban communities.

However, Stone Sylver put a light-colored cowboy hat on his head at some point during the day to shield his face and neck from the sun, and I realize I might have an inner cowgirl streak down deep. He’s still wearing the hat at night, and I might be a teeny-tiny bit tipsy from Mary Haven’s extra special lemonade.

My head is a mess, but my body is screaming: Save a horse, ride the sheriff.

“What?” Genie giggles beside me. Her head turns from me to Stone and back, causing her short curls to bounce around her head. “You got the hots for Stone?”

Shit. Did I say my thoughts aloud?

Genie knocks her shoulder into mine as we share a blanket again, watching Stone and Knox set off fireworks a safe distance from the party.

I simply hum in response to her question, keeping my gaze fixated on the man who is hard to make out in the dark except for that cowboy hat. But I know him. In the sense, my palm is still tingling from where I touched him earlier, feeling the firmness of his chest, heart racing beneath shower-fresh skin.

“He’s the best,” Genie adds, as if that word encapsulates everything when it sums up nothing.

I don’t know what the best even means, but the more I stare at Stone, the more I want to find out.

“Meaning?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Well, first, there’s the fact he raised his siblings while his dad was deep in the bottle.” Genie makes a sign with her hands, tipping her thumb toward her lips while her pinky rides up in the air.

“Then, you’ve got him giving up his future to raise the younger set after his dad died.”

“What?” I whisper, staring into the darkness around Stone, watching a flame flicker from a long-necked lighter as he sets the firework container alight.

“Yeah. After Judd went to college. Guess that makes it around the same time you were in art school,” Genie adds, because we’ve already traded our paths. Both art school attendees. Both artists in our own right.

“Stone came home to raise Knox, Ford, Sebastian, and Vale.” She tilts her head, questioning me.

I pause a second, continuing to watch Stone, holding my breath when a firework pops into the air with a woosh. But the real reason my breathing falters is that I hadn’t known this fact in Stone’s history. As Genie said, it happened after I’d left Sterling Falls.

Another similarity between us.

When our mother was taken away, I felt responsible for Sedona and Jolene. Not that a ten-year-old had the wherewithal to be accountable to a one- and three-year-old, but I’ll never forget huddling in the back of a police car, holding my sisters to my side, frightened about what was happening, while at the same time wondering how I was going to take care of them.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry long. Trudy Wallace was our next of kin. At least for them. Their daddy and mine were two different men.

“I . . . I didn’t know,” I say weakly, keeping my gaze fixed on the man, lit up by the explosion overhead. The burst of incandescent yellow. A crackle of rusty orange behind it.