Page 51 of Stay with Me

Clyde had been married once. I barely remembered Nettie, his wife, because she had passed away unexpectedly from a brain aneurism when I was six years old and that had been many years ago. At least fifteen years and Clyde had never remarried. I wasn’t even sure if he dated. He’d loved Nettie and some nights, when I’d lived here before, he’d talk about her.

I didn’t think he’d ever gotten over her loss.

But one of the things I remembered him talking about was his and Nettie’s Sunday night ritual—making tacos from scratch. Good tacos. Red and green peppers, sautéed with onions, and smothered in melted cheese and shredded lettuce.

It had also become a Sunday night ritual for Clyde and me, and sometimes when Mom was around and had her head on straight, she’d take part.

I smiled as I watched him unload the bags. This was sofamiliar,and I had missed this. Missed having someone who felt like family even though they weren’t blood.

In that moment, something came unhinged in my chest. I didn’t get it, but suddenly I was uncomfortable. Not with what was happening now, but what had been happening the last couple of years.

Tears burned the back of my eyes. I didn’t know why. It was dumb. I was back to everything being dumb.

Clyde pulled out a head of lettuce. “You know what to do, baby girl, so get your ass over here and start chopping.”

I dragged myself over to the counter, swallowing back tears.I will not cry. I will not lose control. My cheeks were damp.

“I didn’t pick up that Mexican cheese blend. We are gonna do this from ... Aw, baby girl.” Clyde put down the block of cheese and twisted his big body toward me. “What are those tears for?” he asked.

Lifting my shoulder, I wiped at my cheeks as I whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Is it your mother?” Those large hands were gentle against my face, his fingers calloused from years of work as they chased after the tears. “Or is it the boys? Kevin and Tommy?”

I sucked in a rattled breath. I never thought about them or that night when the entire world burned in bright oranges and red. Not to be cold or uncaring, but it was too hard to think about them, because I could barely remember what they looked like, but I remembered their coffins, especially Tommy’s. So I refused to even think their names, but their names were cycling over and over again.

“Or is it everything?” he prodded gently.

God, Clyde knew me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I nodded. “Everything.”

“Baby girl,” he’d murmured against the top of my head after he pulled me to him, enveloping me in one of his big bear hugs. “Everything might seem like it’s too big, but it ain’t. You’ve seen and been through worse, baby girl.”

“I know,” I agreed. My breath hiccupped as I struggled to rein my emotions back in. “It’s just that ... this is so familiar. We did this for years, and I never thought we’d do it again. Or that I’d be standing here and working at Mona’s. I was going to be a nurse. I had it all figured out.” And none of it included a guy like Jax or making tacos with Uncle Clyde, but I didn’t share that. “I don’t have it all figured out anymore.”

Clyde patted my back like a baby that needed to be burped, but I loved it. “Calla-girl, you’re a lot of things, a lot of beautiful things rolled up into one. You’re strong. You got a good head on your shoulders. You’re still gonna be a nurse. This ain’t going to be your life. You still got it figured out.”

I nodded, but he’d gotten it wrong. The hysteria wasn’t because I was disappointed at the way my life had veered waaay off course or because of that nightmarish night. Not that I wouldn’t prefer some aspects, namely the heroin and Mom being in trouble, to be different, but I wasn’t crying because of that.

That wasn’t the reason for the tears. I was crying because all of this wasfamiliarand the familiarity had made me happy.

Eleven

It had been a week since the night Greasy Guy had shown up at my mom’s house and left with a fortune’s worth of heroin. There hadn’t been any more visits like that and that could be because there was always some random dude at my house. Okay. The guys weren’t random. It was either Clyde or Jax.

On my days off, it was Clyde duty and when I went back to work on Wednesday, it was Jax who followed me home, which had surprised me a little. During my time off, I hadn’t heard from him. Not once. I knew he had access to my cell number, because I had to list mine in the office, next to everyone’s phone numbers in case of emergencies.

Granted, I hadn’t tried to get in touch with him, either, because I told myself that would’ve been pointless and dumb. And I was trying to avoid all things dumb, but I’d actually looked forward to returning to Mona’s on Wednesday, and that was kind of dumb.

So I failed like a giant whale at avoiding dumb.

On my days off, Jax didn’t exist, but on Wednesday when I’d come in and he’d already been there, inspecting receipts at the desk when I entered the office to stow my purse, he’d looked up, grinned, and called me honey.

And then he’d acted like he had Saturday when we last worked together, flirty and charming ... and touchy. But he still acted like he hadn’t told me he wanted to get to know me in the inappropriate biblical sense.

Maybe he’d changed his mind since then, had woken up that day with a good old-fashioned case of morning wood and wanted to get laid.

And I was okay with him changing his mind.

Totally.

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