Page 76 of Sterling Stone

“Just . . . antsy,” I admit, as there’s no sense lying to her.

“Need to paint?” she asks, eyes still closed, voice sleepy.

“Yeah.” I do, and I had to reschedule my next project. With the decision to stay in Sterling Falls for a while, I need to cancel a few projects, something I’ve never done before. My reputation for being prompt and thorough is a thing of pride.

“You don’t need to hover, Tallulah. I’m just lyin’ here.”

I snort. “I’m not hovering.”

“But you’re pinned in place, and I know how anxious that can make you.”

This woman knows me so well. Like a mother. Better than my own mom.

“I’m not anxious.” I shift in the chair again, causing it to creak. Trudy opens one eye and smiles weakly.

“Got other things on your mind?” That soft smile quirks higher on one side, like she knows something. “Seen Stone brought you in again today.”

The chair beneath me makes another noise as I adjust my position one more time.

“Yeah. He’s been giving me a ride.”

Trudy chuckles. If she was a girlfriend, I might have joked about her having a dirty mind. But this is my aunt, and I don’t have many friends. Not permanent ones. When you scatter like leaves in the wind in search of something new, you don’t form long-term commitments, and friendship is a commitment.

My thoughts leap to Judd. And Genie. She doesn’t seem like the type to let a friendship slide.

And Simon, who needs reassurance I’m not a flight risk.

And Stone . . .

“He’s a good man,” Aunt Trudy states.

I hum noncommittally.

When the chair beneath me squeaks once more, Trudy opens both her eyes. “Why don’t you go grab a coffee or take a walk. A woman can’t rest with all the noise that seat is making.”

She isn’t angry or even bothered, but she’s detected my unease. My need to move or create or not think so hard.

Slowly, I unfold from the chair that isn’t exactly made for comfort and lean over her. I swipe my hand over the silk scarf on her head.

“Do you need anything?”

“Peace.” Her eyes are closed, but her smile says she’s teasing me.

I pat her hand and exit the room. Wandering the hospital hallways, I don’t get further than the cafeteria before I sit in an equally uncomfortable chair at a table and stare out the window.

An approaching man has me turning my head. He’s wearing a security uniform, which makes him look like a cop when he’s not. I don’t know how much trouble a small-town hospital would have, but I appreciate the attention to keeping patients and visitors safe.

What I do not appreciate is how close this man comes to the edge of the table, pressing the tops of his thighs right up against the side. A quick pass over his features marks him as nothing special. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Pale skin.

Muddy comes to mind. Something clumpy and slick between my fingers.

“Jolene?” He hesitates, although excitement fills his voice.

When I turn and give him my full face, his crumbles a bit at the disappointment. I am not my younger sister.

I don’t directly answer him, just give him a blank stare.

“You’re one of Trudy Wallace’s girls, right?” He gives me a sly smile that makes my skin crawl, and the fine hair on the back of my neck rises.