Page 17 of Golden Ruin

“You’ve never visited? Not even once?” she presses, shifting the car into park before undoing her seatbelt.

I feel her stare on me and choose not to meet her gaze as I shake my head. “Nope. There was never a need to. We always did drop-offs and pick-ups at your place, so…”

She doesn’t break her gaze for a long time, which is how I know she’s got a million questions, but when Sterling exits his truck and starts this way, she keeps her thoughts to herself.

Thank God.

I hold off opening my door because Sterling’s passing on his way to the trunk. Or at least that’s what I thought he was doing, but he stops beside the passenger door and opens it for me.

“I’ll help you inside,” he says, offering his hand like it’s nothing.

Like none of this means anything.

I stare at his hand for longer than what feels natural before finally taking it, and he does most of the work getting me out, lending me his strength.

“Thank you.”

He nods with a half-smile, then I look away, glancing toward the trunk when Mom pops it open.

“I can come back and get that, Elena. You don’t–”

“Nonsense,” Mom says, waving Sterling off. “Focus on Lexi. I’ve got this.”

Her words hang in the air, and I feel Sterling wanting to object, but Mom’s already tossed the bag over her shoulder and started toward the walkway.

I’m slower getting to the house than I mean to be, only now realizing the toll yesterday’s ordeal took on my entire body. Not just where wounds are visible on the outside.

“Here, lean into me,” Sterling says, and before there’s even time to consider his offer, his arm moves around my waist, pulling me to his side.

His height was always so much more apparent when he stood close like this, towering over me, casting his shadow where the sun had just warmed the side of my face. We reach the brick stairway leading to the porch, and his fingers press into my side as his grip tightens, watching my feet like I’m a clumsy toddler as I climb the six steps.

We reach the front of the house, and I peer up, scanning the height of the door. It’s several feet taller than even Sterling’s six-feet-four-inches. It’s wide, too, fortified with wrought iron designed in a gentle swirling pattern placed between two panes of frosted glass. Tall windows at either side are made from the same glass and swirling metal, serving the purpose of letting light in while also guarding against prying eyes.

My heart’s racing while we stand there, listening to six quick beeps as Sterling punches in a code that eventually unlocks the door.

“Watch your step,” he warns, but I’m hardly paying attention as he moves to the side, letting me enter first.

The smell of fresh paint and fragrant wood hit me first, then I notice…well, everything else.

My steps echo across the impossibly shiny floor, and when I look down, I’m shocked to practically see my full reflection staring back at me. No doubt it’s real marble, white with ribbons of gray and gold streaking through it. The sun catches on the chandelier, and my gaze is drawn upward, to the pristine gold and glass behemoth hanging above my head, stretching down from the vaulted, second-floor ceiling like the hand of a god.

Straight ahead, the house opens up, and a fireplace I could walk straight into without ducking pulls my attention directly toward it, then to the beautiful white stone surrounding it. A broad mantle holds a large, gold vase with white lilies spilling from the opening, and pillar candles of varying heights at either side. Above it, a TV that has to be eighty inches or more. A large, cream sectional looks deep and inviting, adding a touch of warmth in a space that otherwise looks more like a showroom.

To my right, the stairway curves up to the second floor. More wrought iron in the railing, topped with dark, rich wood that looks smooth to the touch, polished to perfection. The railing continues across a catwalk that overlooks the foyer and great room. To my left, a large dining room with coffered ceilings, another gold chandelier. In the middle of the room, a table the size of a damn minivan is decorated with white and gold place settings for twelve, all arranged around another lily-filled vase, but one shaped like a large, glass tube this time

Mom steps up beside me, taking it all in. “Wow, Sterling. Your home is… wow,” she says again.

“Uh… thank you,” he says, closing the front door. “Although, I can’t really take credit for the decorating. The team I hired finished up a couple weeks ago. I suck at that kind of thing, so the only room I really had a hand in was Jax’s.”

I glance at Sterling for half a second. Long enough to see how talking about the house has a flash of sadness showing in his eyes. He quickly replaces the mask to hide it all, but I already noticed. We don’t talk about personal things. If it doesn’t involve Jax, it’s not up for discussion, but I’ve seen how his relationship has deteriorated. Seen how he’s carrying on without Tiffany, moving into the new house without her, decorating without her input.

It’s almost like… he’s not expecting her to come back.

I take a breath, reminding myself that it isn’t my business as I take a few steps deeper into the foyer.

“It really is nice,” I finally say, struggling to muster up a better compliment than that. It’s my own awkwardness that gets in the way of saying more, though.

“Thanks. Hopefully, you’ll be comfortable here.”