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8
Bethany was starting to regret the trip into town. Everyone stopped her to offer condolences from the town folk, and from behind the pizza counter, eighteen-year-old Amanda told her, “Bethany, you have got to get over this need to do everything yourself.”
Bethany gave her a nod, grabbed their cups, and guided Jason over to the soda fountain, leaving Slade behind to deal with ordering the pizza. She got to watch Amanda flirt with Slade—so much better than having to deal with sympathy—and Slade didn’t even seem to realize he was getting Amanda’s best eye-batting.
Slade did seem to realize he was getting the typical cross-examination that most strangers got. Bethany eavesdropped and heard Slade duck every question thrown at him. He headed toward the table she’d snagged, the order slip in his hand.
Sitting down, he said, “That kid’s in the wrong job. She should be the town reporter.”
“We’re too small to have a paper,” Bethany said. She sat up and Mr. and Mrs. Martino came over to shake her hand and give her their condolences. Bethany fixed a smile in place and listened to the usual platitudes. When they left the table, Bethany glanced at Slade and smiled at his scowl. “I take it you haven’t spent much time in a small town?”
“Let’s try none. If this is what you get, I’ll avoid them in the future as well.”
“They mean well, but everything is so fresh.”
“More like they’re incredibly nosy.”
Bethany shrugged. “That, too. But it’s more from wanting to know if they can help, or how they can help.”
“There’s no such thing as helping by minding your own business?”
Bethany shrugged.“They know me. They know Jason. They knew Tayra. They don’t know you—so they’re checking you out as much as they’re checking up on me. It’s one of the reasons I’m thinking about staying a while—it’s good to have people watching your back.”
His shoulders relaxed. Bethany hadn’t realized he was tense. A small smile edged up his mouth, bringing back his charm. “Yeah, I know about that. Now, I hope you’re hungry. I ordered the extra mega size.”
“Cool,” Jason said, looking up from where he’d been blowing bubbles into his soda.
* * *
After lunch, they boxed up the extra pizza, drove home, and Slade insisted on taking what he called a “walk around” with her. While Jason played in the front yard, Slade had Bethany take him on a tour.
“How old is this place?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I think it’s the mileage more than the years. Tayra never had the cash to fix it, and I haven’t had the time. Or the inclination. So long as the roof doesn’t leak and the water comes on, I’m good.”
He shook his head. “Give it another year and that roof will be leaking. Paint and minor repairs keep the major ones at bay. You want to be proactive about problems.”
She grinned suddenly. The wind tugged at her curls, and Slade wanted to reach out and tangle one around his finger. He shoved his hands in his back pockets instead.
Bethany crossed her arms and leaned against a pine that shaded the side yard. “Now you sound more like Slade of Slade Security. Is that how you see me and Jason—problems to be solved?”
“People aren’t problems. People cause problems.”
“No wonder you’re single.”
He leaned his shoulder against the pine. It was big enough to shade both of them, but he’d moved close enough to smell the scent of Bethany’s shampoo. Lemon and honey, he decided. Sweet and tart at the same time—like Bethany. “How do you know I’m single?”
“No ring. No calls or texts, other than work—unless you live with someone named Travis. That’s the only name I’ve heard you mention, so I’m thinking that’s Travis at work and not Travis at home. I also Googled you, and you’ve got the smallest digital footprint I’ve ever seen.”
He grinned. “Unlike you. And Jason. So tell me about his condition.”
“Leg-length discrepancy.” She let out a breath. “His left leg’s longer than his right. He was born with a condition. They call it Russell-Silver syndrome—RSS. His intrauterine growth wasn’t good, and then Tayra said he was a tough baby to feed. The doctors tried lifts in his shoe, but it’s been getting worse. They want to do surgery now. Either they’ll shorten the longer leg or lengthen the shorter leg. We’ve been to two specialists, and, surprise, surprise, each one has different ideas about what’s better.”
Slade glanced into the front yard. From where they stood, they could see Jason on his knees in the dirt, running trucks over the ground and making engine sounds. “What are the other options? Seems like he’s already been through enough.”
Bethany shook her head. She pushed off of the tree. “I’d give everything to save Jason from this. We put off any thought of surgery when Tayra got sick, but…well, I’m worried now. Jason saw his mom go into the hospital and not come out. That’s not a great thing for any kid to see, and now he has to go into another hospital.”
Slade touched a hand to her cheek, brushing at a freckle. “He’s a tough kid. Give him some credit. But this has been hard on you, too.”
