Page 51 of Sterling Stone

Had she been troubled? Was she not taking care of herself? Had she been eating poorly? Not exercising? What caused this?

I was desperate for something to blame other than genetics.

Heart people loved. They took in three girls who were not their own. They cared for the little girl whose mother caused them heartache. They made her feel like she had a home for a little while and a family for a little bit before the three sisters scattered like migrating butterflies.

Sedona was in England; Jolene was God knew where. As for me, I’ve been driving all over North America, painting murals on buildings, reinforcing communities, when I didn’t have one of my own.

But didn’t you, Tallulah? Don’t you have this woman lying here? And Simon, too?

Why don’t you have a backyard?

Slowly, I lift my gaze to the woman standing on the other side of Trudy’s bed.

Emory Milton. I don’t understand the relationship this posh, uppity, pillar of the community has with my adoring, kind-hearted, generous aunt, but the two opposites are friends. Maybe because Trudy never lets Emory get away with her inherent rudeness. Or maybe because Emory needs the tough love Trudy offers.

Either way, I don’t begrudge Trudy having a friend. I just want everyone out of this room so I can process what has happened.

Aunt Trudy had a massive heart attack. I could have lost her. And what did this situation mean for her future? Selfishly, what did it mean for me?

Another person hits my thoughts. “Where’s Simon?” I demand, turning my attention back to Stone, like he’s the authority in this room. He is the only person standing tall and stiff, fully in command of his emotions.

“He’s with Judd.”

Right. Of course. Now, I remember. Judd mentioned he’d take Simon home with him.

Relief washes over me at the sound of Stone’s rugged, quiet voice, which makes no sense. The relief is knowing Simon is cared for. Stone’s voice should mean nothing to me, especially as he’s still standing so close to Emerson Milton.

The synapses in my brain feel like they’re firing in all directions.

Trudy. Simon. Stone. Emerson.

Turning back toward Trudy, I simply stare at her, uncertain what to say, what to do, how to react, and knowing I won’t voice anything in front of this little crowd. I want to be alone with my aunt.

Within seconds, a nurse enters the room.

“Um . . . Hi, everyone.” The petite brunette clears her throat. “Y’all can’t all be in here at once.”

“I’m family,” I blurt, warning her with a glare that she’ll have to fight to remove me from this hospital room.

Stone lets out a little choke, more like a cough covering a laugh, and I swivel my head in his direction next.

Get out.

Please stay.

Someone hold me and tell me Aunt Trudy will be okay. Let that someone be him, the strong-looking man wearing a uniform I detest but emphasizing the strength of his arms. Arms I’d been anticipating wrapping around me when I have no right to think such thoughts.

Stone holds up both his hands. “Why don’t we all give Taxi some privacy here?”

“I’m her best friend,” Emory whines, whipping her attention from Trudy to Stone to me, in a triangular route of anguish and irritation. “She’d want me to be here.”

“Mama, please,” Emerson counters.

When Stone places his hand on Emerson’s lower back, my stomach clenches, like a gut punch, when I have no right.

I walked away from him, and yet that earlier jealousy snakes through me despite an immediate scolding.

He is not mine.