Page 22 of Still Yours
“You don’t feel pain, remember, Mr. Big Shot?” I send him a droll look over the pills, wondering if he’s making it hard to dislike him after what happened between us on purpose. “You’ll heal in less than a day.”
“Well.” He holds his hand up, turning it to make sure I’m not lying. “I can still sign important contracts, so that will have to do.”
Amazing how different he’s become.
I pick up the small bowl where I’d dispensed Mrs. Stalinski’s morning medication. “I’ll take this up to her now.”
“Wait.”
Not much could get me to stop from doing my job, but his quiet plea does.
He blinks. Swallows. Holds my stare. “Last night was hard on her.”
My shoulders slope. “I’m not surprised. I was hoping she wasn’t holding something back when she told me she was okay at night, but I should’ve listened to my instincts.”
Stone works his jaw. “I wanted to call you, but Ma demanded I leave you alone, so we called her doctor instead.”
“Dr. Silver? What did she say?”
“We have three options. One is to put Ma in a home of some sort for round-the-clock care.”
He and I shake our heads at the same time.
“That’s not an option,” he agrees.
“What about the second?”
“Take her out of the clinical trial.”
I stare over his shoulder, thinking. “She won’t want that either.”
“No.” His chest concaves on an exhale. “She seems to want anything other than chemotherapy.”
I’ve had enough patients on chemo to sympathize with Mrs. Stalinski’s decision. “So we’re left with the third.”
“Well…” Stone combs his fingers through his hair. “You mentioned something to her about staying overnight.”
“Oh.” I jerk back despite there being nothing to recoil from. “Yes. I remember.”
Stone looks at me through his thick chestnut lashes. I can’t stand that look. I despise it because it’s like the one where his lashes shine auburn in the sun before he kisses me.
“Would you still be able to do that?” he asks in a professional, flat tone.
“I—well, you’re here.” My voice comes out screechier than I want, but the meaning is the same. “And there’s only one bed aside from your mother’s.”
He folds his arms across his sculpted chest, now spattered with water. “Ma’s comfort is most important. I’ll stay at a bed-and-breakfast in town.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” In no way did I want to separate a mother and her only son during the time she needs him most. Even if that son came by on happenstance. Stone wants to stay, and that’s all that matters.
“I’m not qualified to care for her the way you do,” he continues. “I can’t tolerate the thought of sending to her to a home or making her reliant on another nurse she doesn’t know, or listen to her pain without having the ability to help. I don’t know if I canstay longer than two weeks, but Ma takes precedence and I have calls to make?—”
“Okay.” I raise a hand to stop him from jumping off the ledge. Stone’s forehead creases with a rare wrinkle and it makes me want to hug him, long and hard.
I step back, creating more space. “To be honest, I was about to stay over last night, but then yesterday kind of … threw me for a loop.”
Stone gives a curt nod. “For you and me both.”
I resume walking to the stairs, trying not to fall into this actual conversation we’re having after ten years of not speaking. “I’ll see to my other patients after this. Go home and pack some things, then I’ll be back.”
