Page 11 of The Lucky Heart (Jamison Valley 3)
Mom never remembered when her mind wandered and got lost, and it would only worry her if I told her she’d had an episode. Usually the only time she even knew one had happened was when she’d hurt herself. As a kid, I had quizzed her about them relentlessly, certain that she had just been pretending not to know what she’d been daydreaming about. But as I grew up, I’d realized that it hadn’t been daydreaming. She was sick.
Maybe it was time for Jess and me to take her in for new tests. We’d done it a long time ago but the doctors had told us that there wasn’t anything we could do. Our only options at the time had been to watch out for her and deal with the fallout.
But things were different now. With modern advancements in medicine, maybe there was something else we could do for Mom, like get her on some new miracle drug to keep her lucid.
At this point, anything was worth a shot, and now that I was home, I’d do whatever I could to make up for all our lost time.
I was digging into a carton of kung pao shrimp when a knock sounded on my door. I had no idea who would be visiting since everyone that would want to see me was at the farmhouse. I’d dropped Mom off with Jess and Gigi for dinner so I could catch up on work from playing hooky this afternoon. Maybe it was someone mistakenly at the wrong door?
Setting my food aside, I crossed the room and checked the peephole.
Not a mistaken visitor. Silas was on the other side of my door.
Shit. I hadn’t had enough time. I hadn’t found the courage for this confrontation yet, but I couldn’t turn him away. With one deep breath, I released the safety chain and opened the door. “Hi.”
“Hey.” We stared at each other for a moment and I tried to keep my breaths even.
Along with my nerves, the sight of his handsome face made my heart pound. With his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, his green sweater pulled tightly across his broad shoulders, hinting at what I knew were the sexy ripples and contours of his muscled arms and chest.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Sure.” He ducked his head and walked inside.
Silas stood six or seven inches taller than my five nine. I had dated men that were under six foot before, but there was just something about a guy that could loom over you. One of the things I loved best about the way Silas kissed me was that he had to tip his head down to mine first. It gave me a perfect view of his mesmerizing brown eyes.
Why was I thinking about kissing him? I was still mad at Silas from earlier in the week when he’d called our tryst a mistake. That same night he’d cheated on his girlfriend. Well . . . maybe. I had been dwelling on it for days, too chicken to call Gigi and just ask if he was really dating Maisy or if they were just friends.
But before I jumped right into an interrogation, I wanted to give him a chance to explain why he was here.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. “Mom’s eating at the farmhouse tonight so I ordered takeout.”
“For twelve people?”
“I couldn’t decide what I wanted and I got a bit carried away.” The TV stand was crowded with six different cartons of Chinese food, two containers of rice and a handful of fortune cookies. “Help me out,” I said, handing him a plastic fork.
I went back to my shrimp as he took the cashew chicken and sank into the upholstered guest chair in the corner.
We ate in awkward silence for a few minutes, listening to the whir of the mini fridge. We had a lot to talk about and none of the topics were particularly fun. How in the hell was I supposed to start this discussion? Luckily, I didn’t have to come up with an answer. In true Silas fashion, he cut right to the chase.
“I didn’t come here the other night expecting sex.”
I stopped swiveling and locked my eyes with his. “And tonight?”
“I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have said it was a mistake. It just threw me off and I, well, I fucked up.”
I appreciated the apology but I needed more. I needed to know if I had doomed yet another relationship.
“How exactly did you fuck up? By saying it was a mistake and pissing me off? Or by cheating on your girlfriend?”
His fork froze in midair and he stared at me for a minute before dropping it back into the white carton. “What?”
“Are you dating Maisy?” I asked quietly.
“Do you think that little of me? That I’d cheat?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted. “Please. Just tell me. Are you with Maisy?”
With one hand, he rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “No. We dated for about a month last summer but it didn’t stick. She’s just a friend.”
