Make Me Stay

by Jaci Burton

  His gaze wandered across the street to the flower shop. It was shut down tight, which was unusual for this time of day. He wondered where Sam was. He knew she wasn't making a flower delivery, because her van was parked next to the building.

  He could call her, but after the other night, he was still confused about where they stood.

  Then again, he was a friend and he was concerned about her. Maybe she was sick or something. He pulled out his phone and clicked on her number, then punched the call button.

  It rang several times, then he got her voice mail.

  "Hey, Sam, it's Reid. I saw your shop was closed so I thought I'd check to make sure you were all right. Uh . . . let me know, okay?"

  He hung up, stared at the flower shop again, then got up and went back inside.

  At the end of the workday he was the last one out the door. He locked up, put all of Not My Dog's toys and his blanket into the truck, and headed toward the other side to climb in. As he headed off, he did a slow roll past Sam's shop and noticed there was still no activity there. He'd been outside several times today, had taken the dog for a walk a few times, and hadn't seen Sam once.

  She hadn't called him back, either.

  His foot on the brake, he looked down at the dog.

  "What do you think?"

  The dog looked up at him, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

  "I know what you're thinking," he said to the dog.

  Not My Dog looked up at him as if to say, Yeah, we need to check and make sure she's okay.

  "That's what I think, too." He put his foot on the gas and drove toward Sam's house.

  Her car was in the driveway, so maybe she was sick and just hadn't answered her phone today. He parked in the street and got out, Not My Dog following next to him.

  He rang the bell and waited.

  It only took a minute for Sam to answer the door.

  "Oh. Hi, Reid. What's up?"

  "You weren't at work today. And I thought maybe you were sick. I called you."

  "You did? My phone . . . I don't know. It might be in my purse. I'm sorry. It's been kind of a day."

  She looked rattled or tired or upset or something. "I should go. Sorry."

  "No. Actually, I could use the company. Please, come in."

  She held the door open, so he and the dog went inside.

  "Would you like something to drink?"

  "I'm fine, thanks. I really just wanted to stop by to see if you were all right."

  "I'm okay. I spent the day at the hospital."

  Dread dropped like a lead balloon in his stomach. "The hospital? So you're not all right."

  "No, it wasn't for me. It was Grammy Claire."

  He frowned. "Is this about the issues she had before, or is she sick or hurt?"

  She sighed. "Have a seat."

  He grabbed a spot on the sofa and Sam sat next to him. As if he could sense her distress, Not My Dog curled up next to Sam's feet.

  "The other night on the way home from the barbecue, she mentioned she couldn't wait to get home and tell my grandfather all about what a great time she'd had."

  Worry compounded that dread in his stomach. "But your grandfather passed away a couple of years ago."

  "Yes. When we got home, she went looking for him. I had to tell her he wasn't there. And why. It actually took her a few minutes to get right with that, to come back to the present."

  He picked up her hand. "I'm really sorry. That couldn't have been easy."

  "It wasn't. The problem was, she was fine all day long. She'd been fine for a few days before that. Then suddenly--this. And after that, she was fine again. But I called her doctor Monday morning and he made a referral to the neurologist, so that's where we were today, having a battery of tests run. We'll get the results in a day or two."

  "This situation is so hard on you. I'm sorry you have to go through it. How's your grandmother dealing with all of it?"

  "She a little confused about all the tests and says she feels fine. I explained to her what happened, that she was asking after Grandpa Bob. She doesn't remember any of it."

  "Which makes it more difficult for you." He squeezed her hand.

  "I can deal with it. I feel bad for putting her through all of the tests."

  "It's necessary though, right? You have to find out."

  "Yes. I do. If there's a treatment for what's happening to her, then we need to know so we can get medications or . . . whatever."

  He knew what she wasn't saying. Or if there was no help for her, and there'd be a gradual decline, she needed to prepare herself--and her grandmother--for that as well.

  "Is she at home right now?"

  Sam nodded. "Tucked in front of the television. One of her friends is over and there's some dancing show on they like to watch, so they're going to cook together, curl up in front of the TV, and critique ballroom dance moves. I'll check on her later tonight. I may even stay there."

  Reid smiled. "Sounds fun."

  "I'm glad she has company. And Faith promised to call me if there were any issues."

  "Good. So you can relax tonight. How about some dinner?"

  "I'm not really hungry."

  "When was the last time you ate a decent meal?"

  She didn't answer, and since he figured she'd been worrying about her grandmother, she probably wasn't eating or sleeping well. He stood. "Come on. We'll go eat something."

  "I should really stay close to home."

  "You said your grandmother had a friend over, right? And that she'd call if there was anything to worry about?"

  "Yes."

  "Then we won't be far if she needs you." He got up and called Not My Dog. "I'm going to put him out in your backyard."

  "Okay. There's a bowl out back. You can fill it with water for him."

  He grabbed some of the dog's toys and his favorite bone out of the truck, then settled him in the yard. By the time he came back inside, Sam was standing by the door with her purse in her hand.

  "Ready?"

  She nodded. "I called Faith and let her know I was going out. She has my cell phone number."

  She looked sad. Worried. Tired. God, all he wanted to do was fold her in his arms and give her a big hug. She looked like she was going to crumble at any minute.

  But first, food.

  He led her outside to his truck and held the door for her while she climbed in, careful to keep his libido in check when her sweetly curved butt slid into the seat.

  This wasn't about sex right now. It was about giving comfort to someone who really needed it.

  After he got in, he looked over at her. "What are you hungry for?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing, really."

  That meant comfort food, and he knew just the place--an old hometown restaurant that served some of the best food in town.

  When he pulled up, he saw the corners of Sam's mouth tip up. "I haven't eaten here in a long time. They make the best chocolate cream pie."

  "And serve up the most amazing chicken fried steak."

  They went inside and were seated right away. Their waitress came over and took their drink orders while they perused the menus.

  "Grammy Claire and Grandpa Bob used to love to eat at this place. They'd bring me here all the time when I was little. I think she still eats here on luncheon days with her friends."

  Sam glanced at the menu, then set it aside.

  "Decided already?"

  "Definitely. I'm having the meat loaf."

  "Sounds great."

  She looked down at his menu, which had remained unopened. "You didn't even look at the menu."

  "I don't need to. I already told you what I'm having."

  Their waitress came over with their drinks.

  "The chicken fried steak does sound good," Sam said, pursing her lips. "I'm totally changing my mind. I'll have that, with mashed potatoes and gravy."

  "Same for me," Reid said, handing their menus back to the waitress.

  "And chocolate pie for dessert," S
am added.

  "Make mine coconut cream pie."

  Their waitress went off to put in their orders.

  "How's work?" she asked.

  "Moving along, finally." He told her about his day, figuring if he could get her mind off her grandmother, it would be a good thing.

  "I'd like to come see the progress," she said.

  "You're welcome to drop by anytime."

  "Would you put me to work? I can wield a hammer."

  He laughed. "I could use you. Do you know how to refinish an old floor?"

  She laughed. "No, but it sounds fun."

  "It's definitely not fun."

  "I don't know, it sounds thrilling. I'd love to be a part of making something old look new again."

  "Like I said, come on over. Bring your work boots."

  Her lips quirked. "I'll do that. In my spare time."

  They talked about the mercantile for a while and he filled her in on every step of the process. Her cheeks brightened and, God, he liked seeing her smile and laugh again.

  After their waitress brought their food, Sam seemed to relish every bite. She might have claimed she wasn't hungry, but she finished almost all of her chicken fried steak, and all of her pie.

  He was glad he'd dragged her out to eat.

  As they were drinking coffee, her phone buzzed. She hurriedly answered, concern on her face as she spoke.

  He saw her relax and breathe a sigh of relief, then listened to her part of the conversation.

  "Of course. Sure, that'll be fine, Faith. Thanks for staying with her. I'll talk to you in the morning."

  She hung up.

  "Everything okay?"

  She nodded. "They're having such a good time that Faith decided to stay over. They're watching some movie that's going to finish late, and Grammy Claire doesn't want Faith driving on the streets that late."

  He smiled. "I know that gives you a sense of relief."

  "It does."

  "Now you can relax."

  "At least for tonight."

  After he paid for dinner, he took her home and let Not My Dog inside. The dog sniffed him and let Reid pet him, but he went over and sat next to Sam again. She bent over to pet him.

  "He seems to like me tonight."

  "He senses you're upset. For some reason he's good at tuning in to people's moods."

  Sam leaned her nose into the dog's neck. "You're a sweetheart."

  "Don't do that. You'll ruin his tough exterior."

  "You're not tough, are you, baby boy? You're actually a marshmallow, aren't you, Notty?"

  Reid rolled his eyes. "Notty?"

  She lifted her head. "Come on. He needs a nickname. Notty is cute."

  "Whatever. He should be named Brutus or something."

  She got up and went into the kitchen to pour them both glasses of iced tea. "You're the one who started calling him Not My Dog. You have no one but yourself to blame that it stuck."

  He accepted the tea she handed to him. "Thanks. And he's Not My Dog."

  She nodded. "Exactly. That's his name now. And he's totally yours." She looked down at the dog. "Aren't you, Notty?"

  Reid had a feeling that nickname would stick as well.

  He also knew he should probably leave, but for some reason he wanted to stay. He didn't think Sam should be alone.

  "Are you busy at work?" he asked.

  "Fortunately, no. At least I wasn't today, which worked out well for Grammy Claire's doctor appointment. I pushed a couple projects that didn't need to be delivered today off until tomorrow."

  "Good. That had to be a relief for you."

  "It was." She shifted on the sofa to face him. "Would it be all right it I came by tomorrow to see the mercantile?"

  "Of course."

  "Great. I haven't seen it since demolition day and I've been dying to get inside. I have some morning deliveries to make, but I could come by in the afternoon."

  "I'll be around all day."

  "Good."

  He figured she was waiting for him to leave. He still didn't want to. "I hear there's a great movie on tonight."

  "Really?" She grabbed the remote and clicked on the television, then handed it to him. "I hadn't heard anything."

  "Yeah, uh, Deacon was talking about it."

  "Oh, then no doubt some blood-and-guts horror film or action movie."

  He laughed. "Not your thing, huh?" He scrolled through the listings. "How about this one?"

  She shot him a look. "It's a war movie."

  "So no, huh?"

  "No."

  He kept scrolling. "This one looks good."

  She watched it for a few seconds, then gave him another hopeless look. "Vampire zombies? You have got to be kidding me."

  "Fine." He handed her the remote. "You find one."

  She scrolled for a few seconds, then grinned and clicked on a channel. "This one."

  His eyes widened and he slanted a dismayed look at her. "It's a Disney movie."

  "Of course it is."

  "And you would sit through one of those?"

  "Wouldn't anyone?"

  "Not necessarily."

  "You don't have to if you don't want to." She lifted the remote to change the channel, but he stopped her.

  "No, this is fine. We'll watch it."

  "You sure?"

  He nodded.

  "Okay. Let's do it."

  He wouldn't admit to her that he liked these kinds of movies. He settled back against the sofa, and eventually she cuddled close against him.

  This was actually one of his favorites, and he was happy she'd chosen it. They laughed during some of the funny scenes, and he heard her hum during the songs. When he felt her body relax against his, he smiled.

  By the end of the movie, she was asleep, her head resting against his shoulder. He stayed like that with her through another movie, then got up, led her to the bedroom and put her into bed. He took the dog out one last time, locked the doors, turned out the lights and undressed, climbing into bed next to her.

  She snuggled up next to him and flung her leg across him.

  Yeah, this was what he wanted--and hopefully what Sam needed.

  He closed his eyes.

  Chapter 25

  SAM FINISHED HER last delivery for the day and headed back to the shop, feeling a lot more relaxed today than she had in the last several days.

  When she woke this morning, Reid was already gone. But he left her a note on her kitchen table telling her she snored. And that he'd see her later at the mercantile. He finished it off with a smiley face at the bottom.

  That was crap. She totally did not snore.

  But she'd smiled at his note anyway.

  They'd discuss the snoring thing when she saw him.

  She'd gone over to her grandmother's house to check on her. She and Faith were having breakfast, and everything had seemed okay. Faith had told her Grammy Claire had been fine all night and so far this morning, and they were headed out to an art show at the museum today. With a whispered thanks to Faith, Sam showered, dressed, and went into work.

  She'd been swamped with yesterday's orders, plus several more that had come in, so it ended up being later in the afternoon before she had a chance to make her way over to the mercantile.

  When she got there, she saw that they were working on the outside as well, cleaning up the brick, and replacing windows--and there were even people on the roof.

  So much progress it gave her chills. She didn't see Not My Dog in his usual place on the front porch, but Deacon was out there on his phone. He hung up just as she reached the porch and gave her a smile.

  "Hey, Sam, how's it going?"

  "It's pretty good, Deacon. Looks like you are all staying busy here."

  "Full-time job right now. I saw you with your van filled with flowers this morning, so you're obviously staying busy, too."

  "I am. Is Reid around?"

  "He's on the third floor. Go on inside. I'd show you up, but I'm waiting on a supplier phone call, and I t
hink I'll take it out here since there might be some cussing involved."

  She laughed. "Nothing I haven't heard before, but I'm sure I can find my way. Thanks, Deacon."

  She walked inside, shocked at the changes that had occurred. The piles of wood and debris had disappeared from the first floor. The former ceiling had been ripped out, and the old tin ceiling was visible. There was so much light in the room now, and even though there were no walls yet, and nothing but electrical and plumbing fixtures, she could see how spacious it was.

  She could see potential. Reid must be thrilled with how it was coming along.

  She made her way up the stairs, pausing only momentarily at the second floor. A lot more had been done there than on the first. Progress.

  She wound her way up to the third floor, where it looked similar to the second floor. Walls had been framed in and drywall was going up. Wood floors had been put in, and there was defined space up here. She wanted to linger, to walk into every room, but first she had to find Reid, because she had questions. She heard banging and talking, so she followed the sound.

  She found him talking to one of the workers in one of the bathrooms.

  "The wrong color sinks were delivered for up here," the guy said, causing Reid to rub the side of his temple. "And the window people sent the wrong sizes for the second floor, so those don't fit."

  "Shit. And how long until we get replacements for the sinks?"

  "They said tomorrow for the sinks. I think Deacon's on the phone with them right now. He wasn't happy."

  "Neither am I." With a sigh, Reid said, "Okay, go ahead and finish up the sinks and fixtures on the second floor, since we know those are right. We'll drop in sinks up here tomorrow--provided the supplier gets it right this time. What about windows?"

  "Deacon's talking to them, too. That could be a few days," he said.

  "Fine. Thanks, Chris. I'll get an update on the rest of it from Deacon."

  The guy nodded, brushed past Sam with a nod and a smile, and left the room.

  She stepped inside. "Problems?"

  Reid finally noticed her and looked up with a smile. "It's always something. In this case, one's minor, the other not so much. All of it's a setback to the project timeline."

  "I'm sorry." She looked around. "It looks amazing so far. This is one of the main bathrooms for the floor?"

  "Yeah. Such as it is. It would have looked a lot better if we'd been able to drop in the sinks today."

  "It looks pretty incredible even without the sinks." There were six stalls, with wide porcelain plank tiles on the floor, beautiful tile on the walls, four sinks--or places where the sinks would go, anyway, lots of mirror space, and . . .