Page 59 of Sterling Stone

“One defines the other.”

The corner of his mouth flicks upward, forcing that mustache to twitch. His voice is sad.

“Yes, it does, but I never want to be held accountable for things out of my control. Things I navigated the best I could and became determined never to be.”

He pauses a beat. “My father . . . he was mean, as I suspect Trent Wallace might have been. And he took his heartache out on his children.”

My eyes widen, remembering bits and pieces of Judd’s experience. His tears. His hatred of their dad.

“Did he . . .” I swallow thickly. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not in ways you might think. But words can do their damage despite the old saying. He was worse toward a few of my brothers.” He swallows thickly.

Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Easier said than believed by some.

“But I’m explaining this so you know where I’m coming from. I believe in the law and the rightness it should follow. The rules. The regulations. Because I didn’t have anyone protecting me . . . me or my siblings . . . I went into law enforcement to be that protection I didn’t receive for others.”

I watch his throat roll, sensing there’s a story here. One with more depth, despite the past I knew about Judd, and this new admission from Stone.

“I just want to assure you I’m on the right side of things. I’m not perfect, but I try my best to be fair. To see all sides of a story.”

He stills his thumb over my knuckles and focuses on my face.

“I’m sorry the law didn’t do its job, do what was right by her, but the whole reason I’m a sheriff is to make certain the law does what it should. Protect those who need it.”

Like Mama.

Like his siblings.

My body practically squirms, the desire to sit up and crawl into his lap and reassure him in some manner. Confess my guilt for unfairly judging him and express my sympathy for all that happened to him as a child.

We’re almost two peas in a pod. Almost.

Instead, he startles me by patting the back of my hand once, gently. “Now, this isn’t exactly bedtime story material. And I really do think you need some sleep.”

He runs his finger around my face again and settles just underneath my chin. “Get some rest. I’m right here.”

I lick my lips, nodding to agree with him, but still overflowing with new thoughts.

His past. Mine.

He’s already rejected my proposition for distraction. Saw right through my proposal and gently shut me down. Rightfully said no. I’m not in the headspace for sex.

I want something more.

“Stone?” I swallow a thick lump in my throat. A stream of panic lances through me. Fear that he’ll say no, but still so desperate for a yes.

“Would you . . . could you . . . maybe just . . . lay here with me?” It’s a big ask, especially after what I told him, how I’ve treated him.

“Sure.” He answers without thought, quietly sighing as if in relief.

Slowly, he stands. Stone Sylver could look imposing if he wanted to, the uniform adding to that power stance. Instead, he looks like a safe space to root, a soft place to land.

At least for tonight

“That uniform looks uncomfortable,” I admit, uncertain how he’d sleep in that thick belt with that badge on his chest.

He chuckles softly, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Still trying to get me out of my clothes, Tallulah?”