by Taylor Hart
“Because you’re you. And I look … like …”
“You look great.”
Laughing, she grabbed her stomach again, trying not to knock anything off the tray on her legs. “I do not look good. I can’t believe you’re here. Seeing me—”
“Without a mask?”
She glared at him.
He sighed and leaned forward, gently reaching for her hand. “Sayla, I want to see beyond your masks. I want …”
“What do you want?”
“I want to ban masks from all the land,” he said dramatically. “I want to have no masks from you, and I want to see beyond yours.”
For a few minutes, she didn’t talk. Tugging her hand away, she began eating. It occurred to her that he was the first man she’d told anything to. Well, Henry didn’t count. She didn’t like Henry in this way. Wait, did she like Sterling? This revelation startled her.
“Sayla.” His voice was low. “I’m not leaving.” He crossed his arms.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. “Rob was the first person who ever really talked to me like I was important. He was new at coaching then. He’d just started teaching in Loveland. He would come into the diner at night after teaching or coaching …” The familiar ache coursed through her. It occurred to her that although she thought of him everyday, she rarely spoke of him. “He encouraged me to get my GED. Then he encouraged me to take classes at the community college. Rob was everything to me.”
There was silence for a beat.
“How long were you married?”
Sayla continued to fight back the tears. It felt like all she did was cry or want to cry when she spoke to Sterling. “He tried to talk me into marrying him for a year before I said yes.” She sighed and swallowed the emotion. “We were married for three years. On our anniversary we were stuck at this award ceremony, and I was mad at him.” Now the tears actually fell. She sniffed. “I can’t talk anymore.” She broke off, laying her head back into her pillow. “I’m sorry. Please, go.”
“That’s okay.” Sterling leaned closer. “I just have one more question.”
Sayla was not in the mood.
Sterling moved to her closet and opened the door. “Why do you have a crib in here?”
She sucked in a long breath, unable to function with all her emotional barriers so battered. “Get out!”
Chapter 9
Sterling waited until she woke up a few hours later. It was pathetic, really, how long he’d been sitting here just watching her. Wondering about her. The foster care. Her dead husband. The crib in the closet. Had she been pregnant? Is that what this surgery was about?
When she opened her eyes, she didn’t look as ticked as she had when he’d left the room last time.
“I’m not a stalker or anything, okay?” He assured her, handing her a glass of water and some pills.
It was the first time he’d seen her actually smile since the night she’d teased him at the party. “I don’t know. I can see why you’d stalk me.” She grunted. “I do look amazing, I probably drool when I sleep on pain meds, and I’m sure you love the conversation.” She rolled her eyes.
There was an edge to her voice when she said the last part.
Sterling’s heartstrings tugged. He loved the way she used her sarcasm to be brave. Sterling blinked and cleared his throat. “You do look good drooling.”
Giving him a sharp look she rolled her eyes. “Shut it.”
Handing her a piece of bread, he laughed. “Here, eat this.”
She took a bite and then another sip of water. “Why are you watching me like that?”
“I wasn’t watching like that. I was just … watching.”
“What were you thinking?”
He was caught. “You’re on pain meds. You’re imagining things. I don’t think. Just ask my agent.”
Sayla grinned again.
He loved her smile. This one actually reached her eyes. “Hold on. Let me text Henry. He’s been badgering me for the past two hours. I told him you were fine.” He whipped out his phone and began typing.
“You’ve been watching me.” She mimicked his voice.
He looked up and smiled. “Exactly.” He finished typing and shut his phone.
“How’s Henry doing?” she asked.
“Fine. He’s at work.” Sterling shook his head. “Driving me crazy. I thought the older generation didn’t like to text? He’s been texting me every five minutes.”
She let out a light laugh. “So spill it.”
“What?”
“Whatever it is you want to tell me. Why you’ve been watching the drool.”
He found he didn’t mind telling her. “It’s inspiring to hear about your husband. How he loved you and you loved him.”
She blinked and cleared her throat. “I’m not a movie script, okay?”
He took the water glass from her. “I didn’t say you were. I just … okay, I’ll admit it. At first, I was attracted to you because you were beautiful, but now you’re so much more.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “And you’re wondering about the crib?”
He didn’t know what to say. “It’s fine. You don’t need to explain anything to me.”
“I used to take in children from third world countries who needed heart surgeries.”
He sized her up. She was completely serious. Sterling spent most of his time surrounded by people putting on acts, and he knew that Sayla wasn’t fabricating a story for him. This was not what he’d been expecting. “Excuse me?”
“I used to take in babies who needed a surgery. Their families can’t afford to come with them. Denver Primary Children’s Hospital provides these vital surgeries, but they need host parents for three weeks after surgery before the babies can travel home.”
He was completely floored. He’d never even heard of this before. “Wow, that’s really nice of you.”
She shook her head. “No. It was a privilege. My privilege. After I left Denver … I don’t know why I kept the crib.”
Her eyes turned down, and he didn’t want to press her. She turned to him. “Hey, I read about how you and your billionaire friends donate to causes. It would actually be a great organization for you and your friends to donate to.”
Her brashness wasn’t necessarily a surprise, but he still felt taken off guard.
The space between them grew uncomfortableand Sayla settled back into her pillow, closing her eyes.
“How’s your pain?”
It was odd to him how much he’d worried over her in the past almost twenty-four hours. How he’d stayed by her bedside. How he was still worrying about her. Usually, when someone was sick, it was normal to worry about them. When they were okay, you moved on, but it felt like he kept getting more and more sucked into her life. It was not like him.
She turned to him. “I should be fine. You probably need to go.”
“I wanted to help, and I’m staying until you really don’t need me anymore.” Cocking an eyebrow, he stood and took a cracker from the tray he’d brought in. “Can I get you some more soup?” He held the cracker out, and she took it.
Gingerly she took a bite. “That would be great.”
Five minutes later, he was back with microwave-heated broth.
She took the cup of broth and gently sipped. “Hmm.”
Neither of them spoke, only stared at each other. It was like another challenge to see who would win. Finally, she shook her head and looked away, picking up the orange juice and sipping. “Thank you.”
He could tell saying those two words didn’t come easily for her, so he didn’t respond.
“What’s your sad story?” she asked.
It didn’t surprise him she asked, but the way she did it made him smile. He shrugged. “You’ve read Wikipedia. You tell me.”
Leveling him with her eyes, her brows knit together. “I read the story about your mother. It didn’t say much, just that you took time off from your career before she passed.” She said the words quietly.<
br />
The emotion bubble in his chest threw him off balance again. He blinked and tried to calm himself. “So?”
Giving him a sad look, she shrugged. “I’m sorry about your mother. You said you hate your father, so I guess neither of us really have parents anymore.”
More emotion pummeled him. He blinked, wondering how she truly could get through all his masks. So he did something he never did. He talked about his mother. “When I took six months off and flew home and stayed with her, I … my agent thought I was crazy. He understood, but he didn’t understand, you know?” It was beyond him why he was talking about this. He never talked about this. “One of the arguments he made was that my dad and brother were there. She had the best medical care. But …” He trailed off. He hated the emotion pooling in the bottom of his throat and threatening to choke him. “I knew they weren’t really there. Sure, they’d come in after work for five minutes and kiss her on the head and pat her on the hand, but they weren’t there for her. She … she knew me. She saw me. She’d always seen me. She was the only one, really, who did. When I was growing up, the reason I started acting was because I had problems socializing at school. She would read to me at night, and she’d tell me how I could pretend to be anybody. I went to a competitive boarding school she hated, but my father insisted on it. In the stories, she’d show me how each character would overcome their problems, and she would help me figure out different situations I was struggling with.” He spread his hands. “I remember her saying to me at the end she didn’t know if she had helped me deal with life by escaping into a character. She told me she liked me, the little boy who didn’t know all the answers and couldn’t quite fit in.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like his soul was getting wrenched out of him. “When you knew I was pretending the other night, I felt like I was that little boy again. Except this time … you actually liked me.”
Sayla didn’t say anything.
“Dang, I sound like a girl.” He wiped his eyes.
She let out a light laugh. “No, you sound like a normal person. A person dealing with crap.”
“I liked not having to pretend with you.” He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. “I know you might think I’m ridiculous, and maybe I am. Also, the kiss helped too. I’m not going to lie.”
She blushed. Actually blushed, through the paleness on her cheeks.
He grinned, encouraged by her reaction. “I think you’re the first woman that’s met the normal me in a long time. Maybe ever. Besides my mother.”
Blinking, she picked up her orange juice again. It trembled in her hand. “Man, I thought I had issues.”
Sterling laughed at her brashness.
“You clearly have Oedipal ones.”
He laughed harder, loving she was sarcastic and smart. He looked at the door.
Then back at her.
There they were. Just them.
Two broken people who saw the brokenness, but didn’t mind.
He liked it.
He cleared his throat. “So I saw all the pictures of Rome.”
Her eyes sobered.
“When are you going?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as I can.”
He nodded asked, “Want company?” He was surprised he kind of meant it. “I haven’t heard about the directing gig with Harold, and I’m in between movies. I could go.”
Her grin widened. Then she frowned and turned away.
“Are you okay?” he asked worried.
Sayla nodded, but he saw tears in her eyes.
Relieved, but sort of shaky himself, he stood. “Are you done?”
Nodding, she held out the cup. “Yes.”
He took it and stood, nearly tripping on the rocking chair leg.
He heard her laugh.
Pausing by the door, he smiled at her. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”
Her eyes glistened. “Yeah, it’s nice to see you not so debonair-like.”
He grinned back and then turned for the kitchen. Gosh, had he really just done that? Said that? Been that vulnerable in front of someone?
What in the world was wrong with him?
Putting the tray down, he saw his reflection in the kitchen window above the sink. He looked rough and rumpled. He needed a change of clothes and a shower, but he couldn’t think about that. He quickly washed the cup. Then he got a pain pill and took it back to her.
“I’m not telling you that you have to take this, but if you want to feel better, I brought your goodie.”
Sayla frowned but took the pill and the water glass he handed to her. “If you put it that way.” She swallowed it down. “I hate to take it, but the pain is bad. I think when I fell, it put me back a bit.”
Sterling reached for her glass and sat next to her. “Should we go see the doctor?”
“No.” She waved a hand. “I’m okay. Poor Henry, I should have ordered Henry to get the hospital worker and not protected his ego.”
Sterling laughed, but he worried about her.
“Tell me about your brother.” She prompted.
Another question he didn’t want to answer. “Why?”
“You said at the party your brother worked for your dad.”
Oddly enough, he realized he didn’t mind talking to her about this. “My brother is the typical Harvard snob. Got a law degree and went to work for my dad. Both of them are arrogant jerks.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked sincere, and sincerity was the least common trait he encountered in Hollywood.
“Thank you.”
“So how is your father’s heart condition?”
Another question that caught him off guard. “I don’t know. He must be fine, or it’d be all over the press.”
Sayla closed her eyes with a small wince and said, “I always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. I had this fantasy that we’d be close. I guess you never know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She kept her eyes closed. He could see her head slip to the side before she jerked it back up.
“You can go to sleep. Relax.”
For a second, she opened her eyes. A soft smile played on her lips. “It’s kind of funny.”
“What?”
“You and me. You, famous. Me, nobody. You, a family you’re avoiding. Me, wishing I had a family.”
How alone she was hit him hard in the center of his chest.
“You should check on him,” she said in a slurred voice.
“What?”
“Your father. You should check on him.” Her head slumped all the way to the side, signaling she was asleep.
Moving quietly, he went to the window and pulled down the shades. Next, he gently removed the pillow from behind her. He lay her head down carefully and pulled the blankets back over her.
“One day you’ll have your family, Sayla Jones.” He couldn’t help picturing her in a wedding dress.
He shook his head. That was getting way too ahead of himself.
Looking down at her, he worried about the bandages and changing them and what she needed. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do about that part. He decided to find Henry and see what he thought.
Gently shutting her bedroom door, he took the key that had been under the frog and left the house, locking the door behind him.
Putting his sunglasses on, he took off jogging down the hill to the marina. It was nine o’clock in the morning, and there was no one else in the shop. Henry sat by the cash register, a newspaper in his hand and his foot propped on an old stool.
When Sterling came in, Henry put the paper down and scowled. “You had orders to be watching Sayla.”
“I have been.” Sterling went right to the counter and sized Henry up. “Did you sleep last night?”
His lip turned down. “Is that your way of saying I look like crap?”
Sterling nodded. “Pretty much.” He couldn’t help but grin at the blatant contempt from the sergeant.
He
nry took off his fishing hat and rubbed his head. “The doctor said she should sleep for a good seventy-two hours. But pain meds—”
“Every four to six hours.” Sterling filled in. “I read the bottle. I also read the medical notes about the procedure.”
Henry held his gaze, not looking pleased. “She won’t like that. She’s private.”
Sterling stuck his hands into his pockets. “I gathered that. But I’m not here about that. I’m here to ask you when her bandages need to be changed.”
The old man’s face soured. “Probably tonight or tomorrow. They need to be checked too. There are three incisions. I’ll come up to the house about five.”
“You’ll walk?” Sterling found the fact Henry walked down to the marina annoying. He wanted to help him, but he knew the man wouldn’t take any help.
“You think they had golf carts in Iraq during my first tour?”
Sterling wanted to bust out laughing at how typical Henry’s character was. Hard-boiled old sergeant that would accept nothing but the best effort from himself.
He was too smart to laugh or even smile. He nodded to the door. “No, sir.”
“That’s right. No, sir, they didn’t. I walked or ran ten to fifteen miles a day in the desert. I think I can handle a little hill.”
“Okay.” Sterling put his hands up. Look, I can bring you your truck, sir.”
Henry glared at him. “You need the truck in case something happens and you have to take Sayla somewhere. In fact, why did you leave her side?”
Flustered, Sterling rolled his eyes. “Look, I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine. Get your keister back to her.”
“So you want me to help her now?”
Henry glared at him.
Sterling walked away, shaking his head. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Don’t sass me, boy.”
A light chuckle came out of Sterling as he pushed the door open. He actually liked the old man.
Chapter 10
When Sayla woke, the only way she knew it was later in the day was because the sun had dimmed. The thing that startled her most was the wonderful Cajun smell wafting in the air. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she felt famished. A glass of water sat on the bedside table. When she took a sip, it tasted fresh.