Page 52 of Sterling Stone

I drag my gaze back to my aunt, forcing my thoughts elsewhere

Still holding her hand, I stroke her hair, which shifts. Puzzled, I notice her wig isn’t as secure as it should be, like someone placed it on her head in haste instead of properly fastening it.

What happened here?

I glance at Stone once more, like he would hold the answer, when I doubt he has any idea about women and wigs.

His hand is no longer on Emerson’s back. The blonde has already left the room, and Stone waves out his arm, suggesting Emory do the same. Ignoring Emory, I look at Trudy once more, thoughts racing so fast, nothing lasts more than a second.

When a firm hand comes to my lower back, I flinch in surprise and meet the warmth of sky-blue eyes. His gaze is steady while concerned, reminding me of the last time I saw him. When we just stood and stared before parting ways again.

He takes a slight step away, yet the heat of his hand still lingers on my back.

“Do you need anything? Food? A coffee? Something for Trudy?”

I swallow the thickness in my throat, barely holding everything inside. His sudden kindness feels like too much.

My brain can’t compute anything other than what he’s already suggested. “Privacy.”

He nods once and rolls his lips inward before restoring them to their full lushness beneath a mustache.

“Okay. But if you think of something, I’m here for you.”

I weakly nod my gratitude and watch him exit before recalling he’d said the same words to me almost a year ago.

He is here for me.

And for some reason, the thought crashes with everything else that has happened today. The fear of losing Trudy. The rush to get to her, hoping there was still time.

The tears I’d been holding at bay for hours finally break free.

20

[Taxi]

Idon’t know how long the tears fall, but eventually I fall asleep with my forehead against Aunt Trudy’s arm. A gentle nudge to my shoulder has me lifting my head with a sudden jolt, causing my neck to crack. Tipping my head forward again, I squeeze on the kink in the back of my neck before noticing someone standing close to my side.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” The deep, but quiet tenor has me looking up and up and up at the tall figure beside me.

Stone. He’s still here?

Our eyes meet only briefly. His are kind and concerned as he puckers his mouth, causing that thick mustache to twitch above his lip.

The sound of machines humming and steadily beeping must have lulled me to sleep. The dim room suggests it’s late.

“What time is it?”

“Actually.” He pauses. “It’s time to go.” He glances toward a nurse entering the room.

“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over,” she cheerfully announces.

Visiting hours? I’m not visiting. I’m family.

I swivel my head in the direction of Aunt Trudy. Earlier, I removed her wig and wrapped her head in a silk scarf I had in my bag. The vibrant burst of color next to her dark skin only slightly brightens the stark image of wires and tubes and a hospital bed.

And I don’t want to leave her side.

“Do I really need to go?”