Page 14

Riley

L ani’s clinic is decorated in soft, earthy tones, and as I sit here in the waiting area, I can’t help but appreciate this place my sister has built. While the rest of us were serving overseas, she worked hard and graduated from medical school at the top of her class.

But because that wasn’t enough for her, she also went and got certified in natural medicine and now uses God’s gifts to us to help her patients heal things that regular medicine would only be able to treat symptom-wise.

She walks both sides for anyone who chooses one over the other and has people come from all over the state to see her. She even has regular patients from Oklahoma and Arkansas.

It’s beyond impressive.

The door opens, and she steps out in her white coat, a yellow sundress beneath it. “Big brother,” she says with a smile. “To what do I owe this honor?”

And now for the reason I’m here. I shove both hands into my pockets.

I’ve never been one to get embarrassed about anything—I was the brother who went to the store whenever Lani needed feminine products and couldn’t go herself—but right now, I’m feeling awfully vulnerable. “I—uh—need some nail polish.”

She arches a brow. “Considering a change to your look? I have to say, I think you’d rock hot pink.”

I grin. “Keep it up, and I’ll pull out the photographs I have of you when you tried that bowl cut right before your twelfth birthday.”

She gasps dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. Now, nail polish. Can I borrow some? If not, then what kind should I buy? There’s, like, a thousand different brands.”

“That depends.” She puts both hands on her hips. “What’s it for?”

“Stuff.”

She arches a brow but doesn’t respond.

“Fine.” I run a hand over the back of my hair but keep the other in my pocket. “Jules can’t repaint her toenails right now because of her injury, and they’re chipped. I thought it might make her feel good to have them done.”

“But you don’t want to take her somewhere to have them painted?”

Why didn’t I think of that? “Oh, I mean, I guess?—”

Lani laughs. “Ease up, Riley. I think it’s a nice gesture, and she probably wouldn’t want to go somewhere surrounded by people right now.”

I relax slightly. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

“I actually have some in my office. Come on.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she repeats. Lani pushes through the door leading to the back.

I offer a wave at her medical assistant as I pass then make my way down the hall and into Lani’s office.

She reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out a mint green bag.

“This is my emergency kit. There’s nail polish remover, a couple different nail polish colors, and a topcoat. ”

I eye the kit. “You have an emergency kit for nail polish?”

“Yeah. And?”

I glance at her nails, noting there’s no color on them. “Doesn’t look like you use it.”

She glares at me. “I’ve been busy. Do you want it or not?”

“I do. Thank you.” I pause, kit in hand.

“Is there something else?”

“Is it hard to do?” For some reason, the idea of painting nails stresses me out. Ask me to take on an entire squad of the enemy, and I’ll find a way to do it. But paint someone’s nails? Apparently, that’s where I start getting intimidated.

“It’s not hard,” she says with a laugh. “You’ll be just fine, Riles.”

“Maybe.”

Lani takes a seat at her desk. “You like her, don’t you?”

“I misjudged her,” I reply. “And I feel bad about it.”

“So this is you making up to her? Have you considered apologizing?”

“This is an apology.”

Lani shakes her head. “You, dear brother, are in way over your head.”

“I’m just trying to make her life not so miserable. Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. It’s actually really sweet. Just do me a favor, and don’t forget that a verbal apology works too. And, when paired with a kind gesture such as painting her nails since she can’t, it can be quite powerful.”

“How’s Gibson these days?” I change the subject, knowing that if I bring up the sheriff Lani’s been in love with since she was a teenager, she’ll let this go.

“As far as I know, he’s doing just fine.”

“Hmm.” I grin at her. “Thanks for this, sis.”

“You’re welcome, Romeo. ” She uses my code name, strategically placed to annoy me and take another shot at the gesture I’m planning for Jules.

I don’t respond as I leave her office and step back out onto the sunny street. Lani’s voice is an echo in my head though. “You like her, don’t you?” Am I making a mistake? Will this be seen as something more than I mean it to?

Jules’s mood has been in the dumps ever since I got back three hours ago.

She was sitting on the couch, staring out the window, when I walked in with Romeo at my side.

Then, before I’d even had the chance to say so much as hello, she slowly, and painfully from the look of it, got off of the couch and headed into her room.

Which is exactly where she is right now.

I finish cutting the ends off asparagus stems then take a swig of my sweet tea. After seasoning some chopped-up potatoes, I slide them into my oven and turn my attention to seasoning two thick cuts of filet.

Unlike my older brother, Elliot, I actually love to cook. While I excel at the grill, I also bake all of my own bread and stock my house with snacks I’ve prepped myself. It’s my way of decompressing when the world gets too loud.

Especially when I can listen to an audiobook as I knead dough or prep meals for the week. When life gets noisy, I just step into the kitchen and lose myself in measuring, mixing, and preparing. Ultimate control for me when I’m in a tailspin, which happens more often than I care to admit.

As soon as I’ve got the steaks ready to go, I take them and the asparagus out onto the back porch. Romeo is sleeping soundly on a plush bed, clearly enjoying the warm early evening air.

“Don’t strain yourself, boy,” I tell him.

He opens his eyes to look at me and wags his tail twice but doesn’t get up.

I laugh and open the lid then place the steaks on the grill. They sizzle, and a mouthwatering aroma fills the air. After adding the asparagus stalks to the top rack in the grill, I close the lid then take the plates back inside.

As soon as they’re rinsed, I retrieve my grill tongs, sweet tea, and my current read, then step back out onto the porch. I’ve no sooner taken a seat on the rocking chair closest to the grill than the back slider opens again, and Jules steps out.

Her blonde hair is in a messy bun, and there are unmistakable red rims around her eyes.

She’s been crying.

My stomach twists into knots, but I don’t mention how upset she still looks. I get the feeling that Jules Landers is not a woman who wants to even think she appears weak. And the last thing I want is to chase her back into her room when she’s finally coming out.

“I hope you’re in the mood for steak,” I tell her with a smile I hope comes off as genuine and not forced since I’m actively trying to pretend like I don’t notice how upset she clearly is.

“It smells really good.” She wraps a cream-colored cardigan more tightly around herself and takes a seat in the other chair. Since it’s nowhere near cool enough for the sweater, I recognize it for what it is: armor. Her way of additionally closing herself off.

“Cooking is one of my superpowers.”

“Oh yeah? And what are your other ones?” A haunted smile graces her face.

“Well, I’ve been told that I’m quite charming. I believe it was Bradyn who told me I could charm a turtle out of its shell.”

She laughs, and I see a bit of that pain melt away. How did I go from not liking this woman to wanting to do anything to make her smile?

Is it because I know how badly I misjudged her and I feel guilty? Or was Lani onto something when she suggested it’s because I’m actually feeling something? I brush that away. She was messing with me; that’s all. Jules is a client, and despite my code name, I’m no Romeo.

“I could see that,” she says.

“Oh? So you think I’m charming.”

“I did not say that,” she says, smile faltering just a bit. “Just that I could see how others might find you charming.”

“Nah, too late. I know you’re getting worn down. Careful, Jules, we might just become friends after all of this.”

That smile fades completely. “You don’t need friends like me.”

“I beg to differ. I think everyone could use a strong-willed, honest friend.”

Silence descends around us, and Jules keeps her attention focused on the view ahead. I’d specifically chosen this place for my house because it faces the creek. I can see it weaving in and out of the trees straight ahead.

And between it and my house is my pride and joy: my garden. Right now, I can see my happy cucumbers, lush tomato plants with globes of red already forming on them, a patch of watermelon, and the tips of sweet potato plants.

I can even see my chicken coop from here, and I take a moment to appreciate just how happy they look pecking at the ground below their run.

“So, you cook and garden?” she asks. “Or does someone else take care of that?”

“That’s all me. Something about having my fingers in the dirt—” I laugh. “I guess I never really grew out of that stage.”

“And you have chickens.” She points to the large, cottage-style chicken coop I built two years ago.

“Feathery dinosaurs? Check.”

“Feathery dinosaurs?” She smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard them called that before.”

“Lani used to call them that when she was little. It stuck.”

Silence descends around us with only the sizzling of the steaks between us.

Jules takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place so quiet.”

“No?”

She shakes her head and tucks both hands into her lap. “The world gets so noisy sometimes. I’d go out into my grandfather’s gardens whenever things got too loud, but even still, there was traffic noise in the distance. I can’t hear anything right now.”

She closes her eyes, and I study her, realizing seconds later that I’m staring at her like an awestruck teenager.

Forcing my gaze away, I clear my throat. “What kinds of things do you like to do? Aside from reading?”

“I used to compete in archery.”

Her confession catches me off guard, and I turn to face her. “Really?”

“Yeah. My grandfather taught me. I loved it. Made me feel strong and in control.” Her smile fades. “I miss him.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. Then I realize that it’s the first time those words have left my mouth. I’d accused her of murdering a man who clearly meant the world to her. Which makes me feel even worse. “I’m really sorry for what happened to him.”

“Thanks. I just… I can’t believe he’s gone. It all feels so surreal. Maybe once we catch the guy responsible and things calm down, it’ll set in. But right now, I feel like he’s only one phone call away.”

My heart aches for her. “We’ll find out who did this to him, Jules. You have my word.”

For the first time since she stepped outside, she turns to face me fully. “I believe you.”

We sit here, gazes locked on one another, with nothing but the sound of sizzling steaks as background noise. Something passes between us. An understanding perhaps? Maybe even trust?