Page 48 of Beyond the Stroke

“It’s on my way home, so it’s not a big deal.”

I hurriedly cross the street to the RV park entrance, but it’s impossible to lose Rory. Those long legs of his make striding out easy.

“I’m sure it’s a big deal to him,” Rory points out.

“Do you have an incessant need to argue with everything I say?”

He presses his lips together, but can’t hold back his grin. “No.”

Rory’s phone buzzes in his pocket again. When he pulls it out to look at the screen, he lets out a frustrated puff of air.

I tell myself not to look, but my eyes are disobedient.

Daphne.

“How many sisters do you have?” I ask.

“Daphne’s not my sister, she’s my ex.”

My brows lift at how easily that information was offered up. When women’s names showed up on Tripp’s phone, he told me it was none of my business. I’d believed it for a while, too. Trusting him more than I trusted myself.

“An ex that’s still calling?”

“Yeah, I ended it six months ago but now that I’m back in town, she’s been calling me.”

When I unlock my van, Edgar eagerly greets me at the door, but after a quick hello, he leaps into Rory’s arms, licking his face and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Hey, little guy. I missed you, too.”

Watching them is like watching best friends reunite. It’s sweet, but also annoying because Edgar is my dog, and he’s known Rory for a day.

“Okay. Thanks for walking me home. Please don’t do it again.”

“You’re welcome.” He grins, giving Edgar a scratch behind his ear. “And I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t leave, so I pretend not to notice and start unloading my backpack.

When I turn to find Edgar cradled in his arms, the two of them gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, I decide getting ready for bed will encourage him to hit the road. I grab my contact lens case next to the sink and take out my contacts. Luckily, I’d found an extra set tucked away in the bathroom yesterday which will last me another few weeks.

I reach for my glasses on the table beside him and slide them on, hoping maybe looking smarter will get him to take the hint.

“Have I told you I like your glasses?” he asks.

I turn to study Rory, whose body is now taking up the entirety of the bench in the dining nook of my van while he strokes Edgar’s back and decide I need a new tactic. Maybe if Rory thinks I’m not opposed to him being here, then he’ll leave. Reverse psychology and all that.

“Thanks.” I reach above the sink for a mug to make hot tea. An evening routine since the warmth of the tea helps relax my airway. “I’ve needed corrective lenses since fourth grade. What about you?”

“Perfect vision.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

“You’re saying I’m perfect?” he teases.

“I didn’t say that, but it’s clearly what you heard.”

I stretch and yawn, it might be exaggerated but it’s necessary since Rory isn’t taking the hint. “I’m exhausted. I would imagine you are, too.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for bed.” He sets Edgar down and a moment later the sweet pup is curled up in his bed, breathing noisily.

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