Page 85 of It's Always Been You
“Oh, honey, I thought she decided to take the day off. She’s still in bed.” She steps aside and gestures for me to come in out of the cold. I hurry into the house, my worried heart beating hard in my chest. “I’ll check on her.”
Wiping my shoes on the rug, I wait in the entryway, reeling from the memory of last night. Somehow, I feel both heavier and lighter as I recall rocking Evie in my arms, telling her the story of the Prodigal Son to keep her mind occupied until she fell asleep.
Even after she nodded off, I held on to her for hours, praying over her until my eyelids drooped under the weight of my exhaustion. I didn’t crawl into my own bed until well after midnight, unwilling to leave her even a second sooner than necessary—not after she confessed how it hurts when I leave.
That revelation broke my heart.
I was reluctant to tuck her into bed after that, to leave her without saying goodbye. But I didn’t want to wake her, either.
Hopefully she won’t hold it against me.
“Oh, crap,” Evie shouts from down the hall. “Grandma! Why didn’t you wake me?”
I chuckle. Even from this distance, she sounds stuffed up.
Evie comes barreling down the hall in her pajamas. “Ugh, I’msosorry! I slept through my alarm. Just give me five minutes, and—”
“Evie. Please. Take the day off if you’re not feeling well. Gladys and I will manage.”
“No,” she snaps, then pauses, her eyes going wide as saucers. She doubles over as a loud, wet sneeze rocks her frame. She goes stock-still, cringing and grasping at her lower back for a moment. I step toward her involuntarily, but she straightens and collects herself. “I’m coming to work, Brandon. This is why you hired me, remember? I’m reliable—unlike Pet-Bereavement Piper.”
I laugh at the nickname she’s given my former assistant. “You’re unwell. Please, stay home and get some rest.”
She shakes her head, stubborn as ever. “No. Wait here.”
I should probably put my foot down. But I’ve gotten too used to having her around the office, and I can’t fathom not seeing her all day long. If she takes today off, I won’t see her again until the New Year. That’s far too long—especially after last night’s breakthrough.
Ten minutes later, I’m returning to the car from Bill’s with her daily treats. “Feeling any better?” I ask as I hand her the coffee and pastry bag. Normally, her olive-toned skin makes her look sun-kissed and good enough to eat. But her bare complexion is sallow-looking this morning—with the exception of her bright red nose.
She sniffles. “I’ve been better.”
“I told you to take the day off if you needed it,” I chastise. Thoughtlessly, I brush the curtain of her long silky hair behind her shoulder. She shifts away from me, and my stomach shrinks. “It’s not too late. I can take you back.”
“I’m fine, Brandon.”
I eye the way she’s death gripping the tissue in her right hand. “You don’t look fine.”
“Yeah, well. I’ve got cold medicine and caffeine on tap.” She sips on her latte, groaning as the frothy liquid graces her lips. When she pulls the cup away fromher mouth, a light layer of foam clings to her top lip. Entranced, I watch as she sweeps it away with a flick of her tongue. Her long dark eyelashes flutter with delight. “Ugh. It’s perfect, per usual. Thank you, Brandon.”
“Anytime,” I rasp, glancing away.
I’ll be the first to admit that last night was torture. I haven’t felt temptation like that in alongtime.
She notices the huskiness in my voice. “You’re not coming down with this, too, are you?”
No. The only thing that’s giving me a fever is you.
“Hopefully not,” I say, noticing the way she shifts around, trying to get comfortable. “So . . . I forgot to mention that I spoke with my friend, Amelia, last night—she’s a neurologist at the university. She can get you in to see her as soon as next month.” Evie is suspiciously quiet, so I look over at her. “Remember? How we talked about making a doctor’s appointment for your back?”
“I remember.” Her hands tighten around the cup. “You said she’s a friend?”
I pretend not to notice the tremor in her voice. “Yes. I’ve known her and her husband since med school,” I tack on casually, relaxing when the tension in her shoulders dissipates at the mention of her husband. “She’ll probably order an MRI.”
“Great,” she says flatly.
“What?” I question, glancing over at her as I pull into the parking lot.
She unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her bag. “Nothing.”
