My back stiffens at his carefully chosen words.
His eyes roam over me, like he’s memorizing every feature, taking stock, and I glance away, tucking a stray strand of hair that fell out of my ponytail behind my ear. “I know I mentioned it last night, that I would help you around the property…”
I bite my tongue to stop the objection that I know won’t get me anywhere.
Dalton locks his gaze with mine. “…but I need something in return.”
Unease settles low in my stomach, churning it more than the damn hormones did when I first woke this morning and spent twenty minutes with my head in the toilet, dry heaving.
Maybe I was wrong about him and his intentions…
I narrow my eyes on him. “And what’s that?”
He releases a long, heavy sigh. “This has to stay between us.”
This doesn’t sound good.
A million different possibilities immediately flicker through my mind, and I don’t want any of them to be true because I actually think IlikeandtrustDalton James and don’t want to have to repaint the picture of who he is in my head that has formed since yesterday afternoon.
“Okay…”
One of his hands moves through his hair in a rough, frustrated shove. “My grandfather isn’t well. He’s been…”—he shakes his head, glancing off into the distance—“not himself for the last several months.”
My medical training immediately kicks in, the potential causes for an older man to be unwell coming in a never-ending list. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze meets mine again, this time filled with panic I haven’t seen from him before—even when he knew there might be a bear wandering around the property while he was breaking apart what would amount to a very nice meal for it. “I’m hoping you can tell me that. You’re a nurse, right?”
“How did you know that?”
“The sheriff told me.”
“Oh…” The fact that he’s been discussing me with Sheriff Wilson causes me to shift nervously under yet another intense assessment. “Iam, but it’s been years since I’ve been part of any medical practice.”
He drums his fingers along the top of the fence. “What sort of nursing did you do?”
“Before I moved up here, I was an ER nurse.”
A sigh filled with audible relief floats through his lips. “My grandfather has been forgetting things. His memory is worsening. And he won’t go into town. He hasn’t for years, not since—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tensing. “It’s been a long time. So, he won’t go see a doctor or let me call Doc up to the cabin, and anytime I try to bring up that I think something’s wrong, he gets defensive.”
“Has he been violent?”
He shakes his head, and I chew on my lip, wracking my brain for anything that might cause memory issues. If he had mentioned violent outbursts, my first thought would be Alzheimer’s or dementia. I can’t rule them out even without them, but there are dozens of conditions that can cause memory issues in someone his age—including justnormalaging.
“Does he have any other symptoms?”
Dalton crosses his arms over his muscular chest, making his biceps bulge, though he seems completely unaware as he stares off into space, seemingly contemplating the question. “A little unsteady on his feet at times. But some days, he almost seems normal.” He lets out a heavy breath, and it carries the weight of his concern for the man he’s obviously close to. “I don’t want to think the worst, but…”
I tighten my hands around the top rung of the fence, waiting for him to figure out whatever he needs to say.
His eyes finally meet mine again, and the despair they hold is so easily recognizable that it makes my own rise to the surface again. “I want you to meet him, spend some time with him, try to see if you can figure out what’s wrong.”
“Without any medical testing?”
He nods.
“Shit, Dalton, that’s—”
“I understand it isn’t ideal, but I don’t know what else to do. If anyone finds out, it could be catastrophic for us, for the businesses, and all of James Creek. If he gets worse. If he can’t keep up with the demands of everything he runs, it’s going to be catastrophic, and not just for us.”