Starlee's Heart (The Wayward Sons 1)

“Maybe,” my grandmother says quickly. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Sierra sighs and rubs her neck. I see the tattoo on her forearm, it’s in script, some kind of saying, and I wonder if it’s the same as her brother’s. “I better get back over to the shop. I left George at the counter and god knows how many cups of coffee he’s spilled.”

“How’s Dexter?” I ask quietly, remembering his bloody hand. “Did he get hurt?”

Her eyes soften. “He’s okay. A little shaken, although he won’t admit it. I told him to take a few days off. He needs a chance to cool down.”

“Good idea,” Leelee says.

Sierra moves to the door and I feel the urge to stop her. Before she can get through the door I say, “Tell him thank you. Your brother. Thank you for being there.” I hold up the coffee. “And for the mocha.”

“I will.”

She leaves, the bell chiming with her exit, and I peel the wrapper off the muffin. The first bite is sweet and I offer some to my grandmother, who shakes her head.

“You talk to me about this if you need to, okay?” she says.

“I will.” I pick off another bite. “Do you think that boy will get in trouble? Dexter?”

She laughs, and it’s a nice sound to hear after such a stressful few days. “For this? I’m not sure. But in general? Definitely. Dexter’s been in and out of hot water his whole life. Like a moth to a flame. Sierra does her best, though. She got him through school and keeps him busy with work and encourages him and the others to explore nature.” She opens her laptop and pulls up the day’s registrations. “Dexter isn’t a bad kid. He just carries a lot of anger. A lot of people live up here trying to heal old wounds—he’s just one of them.”

The bell rings, alerting us to the first customers of the day. A family checking out to head into Yosemite. I let my grandmother talk to them while I head to the back to sort the items needed to restock the rooms. Tissue, towels, welcome packets. There’s not that much work to do and although my grandmother has a lot of spirit, I can tell the running around side of the business wears on her. She doesn’t just want my help. She needs it.

Now that I’m out of the house and know a little more about Dexter, it’s almost impossible to stop thinking about those gray eyes watching me—worried about me--and the blood running down his knuckles from the fight.

Twice, the boy stepped in for me. Once at the museum and then with the backpacker. I wonder what my mother would say about that?

I do know that I’ll never know, because Leelee’s right. If she finds out about what happened she’ll come back and make me leave, something I’m not sure I want.

“I’m having a new bed set up in room 119. Once it’s together, can you go put on a fresh set of linens?” Leelee asks, hanging up the phone. She’s going over the books and has her glasses perched on her nose. The afternoon is quiet. We don’t expect any of the other guests to arrive until around dinner.

“Sure,” I say, heading to the linen closet and pulling out a wrapped bundle of sheets. I pause before I walk out the door. “Anything else?”

“Yes, one more thing. Grab a bottle of bleach and take it up to Katie. She was running low.”

“Gotcha.”

I grab a bottle of bleach and start the short walk through the lodge grounds. It really is a nice location. Scenic, quiet. The guests don’t hang around much during the day, most are out fishing or hiking. Around dinner things get a little more active. The Epic Café fills up and the other restaurants also do well. There are picnic tables for people to eat or play games, and other lawn chairs so people aren’t stuck in their rooms. I take the stone path up to the hotel, passing Jerry the dog along the way. He follows, happy to switch gears.

Katie, the maid, meets me outside the door of the room she’s working on. She’s a little older than I am, with dark hair and a mole right above her eyebrow. She’s closer to Sierra’s age, I think, but she’s been friendly since I arrived.

“Oh, thank god,” she says, taking the bottle. “I thought I was going to puke.”

I peer around her into the room but can’t see anything. “What is it.”

“Nothing you want to know about. Just be happy your grandmother’s letting you work in the office and not out here. People are gross. So. Gross.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Smart girl.” She looks me over for a second. “So I hear there was some kind of brawl on the street yesterday with Dex and you were there.”

“You heard about that?”

“Talk of the town, girl. There are no secrets here. Remember that.”

I don’t have many secrets so that shouldn’t be a problem. A girl with no life can’t have much to hide.

“Yeah, I was there.”