Page 96 of Anything for You
“You could tell me, if you like.” Her hand found my leg and squeezed gently.
I resolved not to look at her to avoid distraction while driving and also because I’d end up pulling over so I could kiss her, and we didn’t need that kind of delay.
“I’ve been wondering about a little stand or maybe even a small building next to the trees. I could bake stuff and it could be open, mostly during the Christmas season, but I think I’d like to try to open the apple orchard for you-pick next year, and?—”
“Oh my gosh, I love this so much. Yes, and yes, and yes!”
She started asking questions and making suggestions and generally cheering for me and didn’t stop until we walked into Silverton Springs Retirement Community and ran into Bruce as he was exiting. After greeting him, she winked at me and slipped inside to see Nan while I chatted with Bruce.
“Good to see you out in the world,” he said, shaking my hand and hauling me into a back-slapping hug.
As he released me, I admitted, “Thanks. Good to be out.” And it was. I felt generally less anxious since deciding about Saint, though my pulse ticked up as I pushed forwardnow.“I’d like to talk to you and Wilder this week, if possible.”
His eyes narrowed a bit, but his smile didn’t dim. “We’d like that. I’m guessing you’re going to tell us you’re going to focus on the farm?”
I blanched.
He chuckled and patted my back, reassurance in his every move. “I’ve been expecting it, but not because there’s anything wrong.” He held my gaze, that steady, open quality disarming as ever. “You’ve been through it, and I don’t envy you the journey. That said, you’ve climbed that mountain and then some. You deserve rest.”
An understanding like nothing else in life save those shared between people who had trained and fought together passed between us. My throat cinched tight, and I clenched my jaw against the gathering mixture of relief and grief.
“We all do.”
He nodded. “We do. For me, thisisrest. For a lot of us,it is. It’s okay if that’s not the case for you. I think I’ve known that for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to help.”
Clearing my throat, I grasped for the right way to tell him. “I didn’t want to leave Saint. I love all of you and I don’t want to lose you.”
He frowned, visibly pained, and held my gaze. “You can’t lose us, Stone. We’re family, and we’re not going anywhere.”
Without my permission, my eyes misted, and I nodded. “I think I finally get that.”
He cleared his own throat and grinned, his classic Crest smile on display. “Good. Then get in there with your woman, and we’ll talk this week. You come in; we’ll make the time.”
With that, he gave me another brotherly pat and waved as he walked toward the parking lot. I glanced up at the mountains, towering and dotted with pines, no snow at the top quite yet, though it would be any day now, and felt incredible gratitude.
It didn’t replace or cancel out the fact that I still had work to do. I was still responsible for taking care of myself and doing the things that would keep me mentally and physically well. But a huge part of it all was knowing I had them—all of the Saint staff and especially the people I’d served with and who’d seen me through my darkest hours. I had them, and even though I’d known it somewhere in me, maybe down in my gut, I knew it with my head and heart now, too.
With one final breath of the crisp air, I entered the building and found my way to Nan’s room. Inside, Dove was showing off the contents of the pastry box.
“There he is. Get in here, you! I want to try these things and I was told we couldn’t until you’re here to see myreaction.” Nan said this as she waved me in from her recliner. “She said apple turnover and what?”
“Cinnamon scones and then there’s a pumpkin coffee cake I’m testing out, too.”
Nan fell back, a hand on her chest. “My dying wish is to be buried with my grandson’s pastries.”
My heart stopped.
Dove’s mouth dropped open. “First, ew. No. You are not being buried with food and second, don’t talk about your dying wish because last I heard from Dr. Daniels, you are healthy and hitting triple digits?—”
“Bah,” blurted Nan, interrupting Dove’s rant.
Hands on her hips, Dove tsked at her nan. “You will! And third—” Her blue eyes flicked to mine and she bit her lip. “You just called Dorian your grandson.”
Did she think I’d be bothered? Upset? Awkward? If so, she hadn’t gotten the message well enough yet.
“Oh, please. You’ll be married before my next birthday!”
Dove blinked, evidently horror-struck.
