Page 56 of Splintered Memories
His gaze held mine as he gave me a knowing look. “It’s after five o’clock,” he said, like I was being ridiculous. “You need to eat an actual meal.”
“I don’t have time.”
“You’re going to make time.”
There was no question in his voice. Not a hint of relenting. I normally would have bristled at such a command, but I didn’t have the energy.
“Lucky for us, my mom is an amazing cook, and she invited us over for dinner.”
My heart rate quickened. I shook my head, but no argument came out of my mouth. I had barely left this house the past week. I hadn’t spoken to anybody except for August, and even those conversations were brief and in passing. I wasn’t in any condition to have dinner with his mother.
“I don’t think—”
August shook his head, cutting me off. “She already invited us. She’ll be offended if we don’t go.”
I pursed my lips, glancing back at my computer screen and the half-edited video I was working on.
“Whatever you’re doing will be there when you get back. We don’t have to stay long, just long enough to eat.”
I looked up as August stepped into the room, his hand outstretched to me. I stared at it, trying to conjure some excuse to get myself out of this. I came up empty.
I probably looked like an absolute mess. I couldn’t remember the last time I brushed my hair or put a dab of makeup on. I guess it didn’t matter.
“Fine,” I said tersely.
Relief softened his eyes. He grinned. The fingers of his outstretched hand twitched, beckoning me to come. “Let’s go.”
August all but dragged me across the street toward the bed-and-breakfast, his hand wrapped tight around mine. At least he was warm, and as I trudged behind him, a hint of his cologne tickled my nose. My traitorous heart fluttered, despite everything.
I had been inside the bed-and-breakfast once before, at the annual Christmas party Lark had invited me all those months ago. The night I met August for the first time. It was a beautiful house. A turn-of-the-century Queen Anne Victorian home with a wraparound porch and a two-story tower on one side, so much of its original charm had been preserved for all these decades.
August didn’t knock as we approached the ornate front door. He walked in as if this place were still very much his home.
My mouth watered at the smell of savory roasted chicken inside the foyer. To the left was the front living room, which was empty. Ahead of us next to an entryway to the kitchen was the grand staircase. The woodwork was breathtaking and intricate, and I found myself staring at it all like I had the first time I was here.
August didn’t let my hand go as we walked straight into the farmhouse-style kitchen, the only place that didn’t hold the Victorian theme.
We had barely crossed the threshold when an excited, high-pitched voice wailed, “Uncle Gus!”
There was a pitter-patter of hurried footsteps, and a flash of dark-brown hair launched herself into August’s arms.
August held the little girl to his chest and spun around in a quick circle, making her cackle. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, before setting the girl back down on her feet. The wide smile on his face matched hers.
I arched a brow at him. “Gus?” I mouthed, curious.
He shrugged. A slight blush dusted the tops of his cheekbones. “There’s no convincing Hailey to change her nicknames once she latches onto one.”
I vaguely remembered the little girl, August’s niece. She was Roman’s daughter, the firefighter and oldest Ramsey brother.
Hailey’s wide, doll-like eyes shifted from her uncle to me. Her pink lips narrowed as she inspected me from head to toe.
“Hailey, this is my friend, Emersyn.” August introduced me.
Hailey clasped her hands in front of her. “I know who she is,” she said lightly. “Your hair is a really pretty color.”
One hand moved down my knotted, days-old braid. “Thanks.”
Hailey nodded once. Then, she spun on her heel and ran back toward the long table taking up most of the kitchen. The table was set and dishes of food were piled in the middle. What looked like baked chicken, mashed potatoes, corn casserole, and fresh bread had my mouth filling with saliva again.
