Page 55 of Sterling Stone

“What happened?” I whisper, like I haven’t already heard the particulars from Judd and then the doctors. Several thoughts slam together at once before he can answer my rather rhetorical question.

“I should have been here. She should not be raising Simon on her own. She’s growing older. She needs to take better care of herself. I should be taking care of her.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” His hand swipes up my back again, and he gently squeezes the nape of my neck.

I bristle, but not for the reasons he must think, and he instantly removes his hand. His touch was firm yet tender. The heat of his palm caused me to shiver again. And I wish he’d put it back on me.

Instead, I take another sip of soda.

“I don’t think any one thing, nor a single person, is to blame for Trudy’s genetics. Heart attacks happen.”

Stone speaks like Aunt Trudy simply tripped when the doctor explained how Trudy has been having heart issues for years. She’s never mentioned it to me. Had Sedona known? What about Jolene? Neither of them ever said anything about Trudy’s health the last time I talked to them. Then again, between the three of us, I’m the closest to Trudy.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” I whisper, more to myself than Stone.

“Because that’s not who Trudy is. She doesn’t want people to worry about her. She doesn’t want anyone to make a fuss.” His voice is gentle, a smile in the corners of what he’s saying. He knows my aunt well. She’s someone who cares about others, but apparently isn’t taking care of herself.

I snort and take another bite of the sandwich. I’m not certain turkey on whole wheat has ever tasted so good. When I eat an apple slice, I’m suddenly full and sleepy. I should shower, but my limbs feel too weak to bother.

I pick up the other half of my sandwich and push it toward him. “Here . . . you should eat too.”

He glances at it, then at me, those blue beams of his eyes catching mine. For a second, he studies me, like he’s noticing something new.

I shiver again at the intensity. At how deeply it seems this man observes me, sees something in me. The sensation from the night we first met tickles over my skin. Like he is different. Special, even.

“Thanks,” he says, voice low, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He lifts the sandwich carefully, as if the gesture matters more than the food itself.

While he eats the remainder of the sandwich, I settle back against the couch, letting the quiet linger, small and comforting.

Thinking this is how having a home might feel.

21

[Stone]

Iappreciate that Taxi wants privacy, but I’m not about to leave her alone. She was woken by bad news, raced to an airport, and rushed to a hospital, then napped hunched over beside her ailing aunt’s bedside. I didn’t trust her mental capacity or physical ability to be alone.

And I was also being fucking selfish.

I was one-thousand percent certain Taxi could take care of herself, and yet I wanted to be here for her, whether she wanted me to or not.

This was my way of trying to process what happened to Trudy. I needed to do something, and that something was to be present for her beautiful, yet annoying, niece.

Being tough skinned, I could take her little jabs and sharp tongue if she needed someone to lash out on. Needed some way to make sense of a frightening heart attack striking her beloved aunt.

After my mother passed, and my father changed, I’d built resilience. With every insult he hurled, I reminded myself he was hurting. He’d lost the love of his life. He was left with seven children to raise when she’d been the nurturer. But when his insults turned to something deeper, more sinister, my compassion wavered. My sympathy waned.

However, Taxi is not my father.

She is hurting in a different way. Fear. Confusion. Relief because her beloved aunt will live.

As I busy myself cleaning up the kitchen and washing the plate I used, I hear Taxi move through the small house. Her path to the bathroom. Her return to the living room. The light goes out in the other room.

I meant what I said. I’m not leaving. She can ignore my presence all night, but I’ll be parking myself in a hard-backed, wooden chair in this square kitchen. In the morning, Taxi will need a ride back to the hospital, and I use that as an additional excuse to stay.

I’ll be here for her.

In truth, I’m relieved Taxi is here, as we don’t know what is next for Trudy. Or for Simon, for that matter. Because a ten-year-old boy cannot be the caregiver for a recovering heart attack patient, not that Judd or I would let that happen. Especially Judd. Recalling my own childhood, and the way things flipped from my being a pre-teen to practically a parent, I don’t want that kind of responsibility falling on another child, even if Simon is excessively competent.