Page 95 of Still Yours
I rise, getting as far away from his embrace as I can.
“I can fix this.” He stands with me. “I will track down who’s responsible, and I’ll raise hell.”
“What’s the point?” I ask. “It’s out there now. My tragedy is theirs. Your mother’s right. I have to go. I can’t be anywhere near you. The only way I’ll be safe in Falcon Haven is when you leave.”
Stone’s expression warps. He glances from his mother, then to me.
“I would never ask you to go,” I whisper harshly. “You stay with your mother. I’ll go. And I’ll make sure the best nurse takes my place.”
“I don’t want another nurse,” Stone shouts. “I want you, Noa.You. You’re the best thing for this family. The reason this house isn’t a skeletal, hollow version of what it could’ve turned into. You cared for my mother when I couldn’t. Loved her when I wasn’t here. And I’m—you’ve … you can’t leave. You just can’t.”
I swipe at the wetness on my cheeks. My lips are salty and damp. The tears just keep flowing.
And I say the one thing that will make him stop pushing. “Your mother doesn’t deserve this.”
Stone recoils like I’ve slapped him. Mrs. Stalinski’s mouth turns grim, her eyes dimming, but she gives me a tight nod.
“She deserves peace,” I continue, my words stilted. “Stability. Constant media at her doorstep would derail everything we’ve tried to build in this house.”
“They won’t leave just because you do,” Stone says stubbornly.
“But they’ll go a lot sooner,” I reason. “When they get bored with your routine with your mother and I’m not here, living with you and going to couples things with you, and…”loving you.
A pained line forms between Stone’s brows. He grimaces like his very muscles are atrophying under his skin. “You know I can’t argue with a statement like that. So fine. Go. But I’ll go first.”
He whirls, throwing the front door open.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Stalinski asks.
I stare at him, my heart rusted like an anchor lost at sea.
“To break down Aaron’s door and make him explain what thefuckjust happened,” he booms.
The door slams shut behind him.
I sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve. It’s the only sound in a house plunged into silence.
“I’ll stay until he comes back,” I murmur to her.
“Dear, you’re staying until you’re okay to leave.” She pats the spot beside her. I do as she says, curling into her as she wraps an arm around me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Stone
Istorm up to Birdie’s Bread & Breakfast, the gnarled hedges framing the walkway of the cheery yellow townhome resembling how my insides must look on this wintry, fuck-bluster day.
He’s staying in a room on the third floor, the biggest they have because it’s on my coin.
I don’t knock on the heavy mahogany door to his suite. I pound.
“Jesus, where’s the fire?” I hear him call.
His footsteps pad closer, and he swings open the door.
Aaron’s clad in a white towel wrapped around his torso, his water dripping down his hair and into his face. He blinks the water away and assesses me, heaving inside his doorway.
“Stone? What’s up?”
