Page 74 of Star Crossed
Chapter Fourteen
Jules and Wyatt had made a pact years ago not to fight on their birthday. Once they were old enough to understand their history, they swore not to do anything to upset their father on the anniversary of their mother’s death. Even if he never outwardly showed it, the pain was always etched across her daddy’s handsome face over the glow of birthday candles, and neither of them could bear to do anything to add to the misery.
Even though their father was long gone, they’d never stopped the tradition, and Jules woke up on the morning of May 6 determined to be the best sister possible. She dressed conservatively in a black pantsuit and wore a natural shade of lipstick. Then she put a big, golden clip in her hair because it was her birthday and she didn’t want to look too dowdy. She could only go so far to be the toned-down sister Wyatt secretly wanted.
Then she grabbed her purse and bounced down the steps. She found Wyatt in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which was sort of surprising. He usually attempted to dress up, probably hoping to be the sophisticated brother he thought Jules would’ve wanted if God had asked her opinion on the matter.
Wyatt laughed when he saw her, and Jules frowned, looking down at herself in concern. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, another chuckle slipping out of him as he leaned against the counter drinking coffee. “You look very, um…”
“Classy, conservative, like a pillar of modern female virtue,” Jules offered before Wyatt said something that ruined their day.
“Yeah, all those things,” he agreed with another laugh. “I think you wore that suit last year.”
“Probably.” Jules stuck out her tongue because she didn’t love this suit with the buttons up to her neck and the straight lines of the jacket that hid everything. “Just for you, Wy Wy.”
“Okay,” he said, looking away with what would usually be a roll of his eyes, but he refrained. “I was hoping you’d let me buy you breakfast.”
“Nope,” Jules said as she walked up next to him and reached into the cabinet to grab a coffee cup. “You bought last year.”
She was surprised to find her father’s old mug right in front, with the big, faded sheriff’s star calling out to her like a hug from the past. Wyatt nabbed that one every single day without fail, and if Jules complained he would gesture to his chest, uniform or not, and remind her that he’d earned the right to it.
She took down the cup and stared at it, remembering a thousand mornings where her father sat at the kitchen table in the darkness of early morning and drank his coffee. Her bottom lip jutted out without warning, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Okay, come on, Ju Ju Bean.” Wyatt took the cup out of her hand and set it on the counter. He leaned down and placed a kiss on top of her head. “It’s just a cup. Put coffee in it so you can buy me breakfast.”
She wiped at her eyes and then leaned into him and hugged him tightly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Wyatt sighed, rubbing her back. “But what the hell is up with you? This is the third time this week you’ve started crying for no damn reason.”
“It’s been a long few months since those tax returns started rolling in. It’s always so draining.” She wiped at her eyes again and stepped away, trying to pull herself together. “Everyone’s finally got the money to pay for their divorces and wills and every other darn thing they put off till the government starts mailing out those checks.”
“You didn’t get like this last tax season,” Wyatt observed, pouring her a cup of coffee. He turned to walk to the fridge, grabbed a container of milk, and then focused on adding it to her coffee rather than look at her. “Maybe your hormones are off again.”
“Thank you, Wyatt, for your advice on my female reproductive cycle. I didn’t realize you were an expert.”
“I’m not starting anything. It’s our birthday, and I’m not nagging ya. I’m telling you, there’s something wrong. I dunno what it is, but I’m getting a sick vibe off you.”
“I’m not sick!”
“You got circles under your eyes.” Wyatt took another sip of coffee and mumbled against the rim, “And you’ve put on a few pounds too.”
“Not starting anything, huh?” Jules gave him a look of disbelief. “It sure as hell sounds like you’re starting something!”
Wyatt set his cup down, looking flustered. “Remember when you had that thing. You put on a couple extra pounds, right? And you were weepy and sick-looking. And who noticed? Who told ya to go to the dang doctor even though you bitched and moaned ’bout it the whole time?”
Jules felt her face flame, because she had to reluctantly admit, “You did.”
“And you needed surgery and the doctors said something bad could’ve happened if you hadn’t gotten that cyst thing removed off your”—Wyatt gestured to her waist—“parts.”
“Ovary,” she corrected him drily.
“You need to go to the doctor,” Wyatt announced as he picked up his cup of coffee. “I’d bet my badge on it.”
“Fine. I’ll put it on my to-do list.”
“Put it at thetopof your to-do list.”
