Page 53 of Sterling Stone

“Hospital rules,” the nurse says, smiling sympathetically. “We open again at eight a.m.”

Eight a.m.? What will I possibly do all night?

“I can give you a ride somewhere,” Stone says, as if reading my thoughts. “To Trudy’s. Or maybe Judd’s.” He hesitates a second. “You could even stay at my place.”

As much as I don’t want to be alone, I cannot impose on Stone, nor do I want to disturb Judd. He and Genie have a newborn baby, plus Simon is there right now. I need to see Simon, but I’ll hold off until tomorrow when I have a better grip on my emotions and this situation.

Without answering where Stone should take me, I give one final glance at Aunt Trudy.

Don’t you dare die on me. It’s a harsh prayer but a desperate plea. As much as I might not feel like I have a physical home to return to, I’ve always had her. She’s my home base.

With my sisters scattered, I’d be even more untethered without Aunt Trudy.

And what about Simon?

Slowly, I rise from the plastic chair and lean over Aunt Trudy, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Guilt slams into me. I should have visited her more often. I should have told her more things. How I felt about her. How important she is to me. How I selfishly still need her, need to know she’s still here for me.

Stone steps to the side when I push back my chair, allowing me to step in front of him. He picks up the duffel bag I hastily packed and dropped as soon as I entered the hospital room. He places his hand on my lower back, much like he did earlier, allowing the heat to seep into my skin, which I hadn’t realized was so cold.

With the gentle pressure at the base of my spine, he guides me out of the ICU and down the quiet hospital hallway to an exit. When we reach his sheriff’s truck, he opens the passenger side door for me and holds out his hand to help me up. Ignoring his offer, I reach for the bar on the edge of the door frame and hoist myself into the passenger seat.

When he shuts the door, my pulse begins to throb as I spy all the equipment between the seats and a computer screen attached to the dashboard. I swore I’d never be in a cop car again. Like the one where they put my sisters and me, huddled together in the backseat, clinging to one another, uncertain what was happening to us or where they were taking our mama, who was placed in another car, separated from us.

I shiver at the memory and flinch when Stone slams his door after taking the driver’s seat.

“Sorry,” he mutters, noting the jolt in my body. He adjusts in his seat, presses the ignition button, and turns on the heat, although it’s still the middle of August.

“It’s too warm for heat,” I comment.

“I know, but you’re trembling.”

Glancing down at my fisted hands, I straighten my fingers to find them shaking. I slip them underneath my thighs as if that will stop the tremor.

“Where to?” he asks, all reserved and business-like. Like I’m any other person he’d give a ride.

I shouldn’t be thinking about how he kissed me once upon a Tennessee evening. Nor how much I could really use a hug, and I remember his hands being strong and his arms solid.

Swallowing, I stare out the windshield. “I guess take me to Trudy’s, please.”

I catch Stone’s nod in my peripheral vision, and he reverses out of the parking spot. We spend the next half-hour in silence, letting the hum of his tires on asphalt be the soundtrack in this truck.

When we arrive at Aunt Trudy’s, he cuts the engine, and before I even reach for the handle, he’s around the front of the truck and popping open my door. He grabs my duffel from the back.

I could argue that he doesn’t need to walk me in. The distance is only a few feet, but I don’t have the energy. I fumble through my oversized tote for the beaded keyring that has actual car keys needed for Gloria and a single house key.

Pulling the screen door forward, Stone props it open with his body, while I fumble with the house key. My fingers are still shaking.

Eventually, he covers my hand with his and guides the key into the lock. With his hand over mine, he twists, forcing the key to turn and pop open the front door.

“Appreciate the—What the heck?” As I’m thanking him for the ride, he follows me into the house. “Just what the hell are you doing?”

Without an ounce of chagrin, he states, “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

Crossing my arms, I glare at him in the dark entryway. “What if I want to be alone?”

“Then I’ll sit in another room, but I’m not leaving.”