Starlee's Home (The Wayward Sons 3)

“You volunteer to check on me?”

“I was sent in—by my grandmother.” I lean against the counter, resting my hands on the edge. “You seem extra antsy tonight.”

“I’m not used to this new situation.”

She moves over to the sink, turning on the water. I watch as she rinses off the plates one by one, stacking them on top of one another. Tired of being so close to her and not touching her, I lift her hair off her neck and kiss her warm skin.

“That’s against the rules, Mr. Evans,” she says quietly, the water drowning out her voice.

“It’s been a week. Too long. I need something to get through the day.”

She faces me, eyes both sad and fiery; we’re caught in a complicated spot. “So, your dad was really okay with you coming tonight?”

“He said so, but…”

She touches my arm and it burns through the cotton of my shirt. “But what?”

“We’re learning to trust him again. It’s too soon to tell.”

She looks up at me with those wide green eyes and her mouth is red and plump. I bend down and brush my lips against hers, easing them apart and slipping my tongue in to sweep against hers.

She tastes like sugar and chocolate. Home and stability. Her hand moves around my neck, cupping my face to pull me closer. It’s sweet. Dangerous, and I never want to stop.

“George!” Dexter calls from the other room.

“Cockblocker,” I mumble, making Starlee laugh. She turns back to the sink. I see the way her back moves, inhaling and exhaling. I took her breath away. “Yeah?”

“Bring me another one of those pastries.”

“Two,” Jake calls.

“Make it three.”

“I’ve been summoned,” I tell her, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

“I think you have.”

I grab the plate of pastries and pass her once more, kissing her temple. I want her to know how I feel, that this separation is not by choice. My avoidance is not what I want. It’s important for her to know that, and from the way she watches me leave the room, I think she does.

10

Starlee

There’s a lull in business at the lodge prior to Christmas, which means Katie doesn’t need help at the desk in the afternoons. When Margaret asks me to lead the holiday service project for the Helping Hands Club, I agree. I need something to distract myself.

“As you all know, we’re doing a mitten and glove tree for the holiday. We’ll put clothespins on the tree and students can clip gloves and mittens to hang like ornaments.” Speaking to a group like this is different for me. I can’t push back the heat in my cheeks no matter how hard I try.

“

I love this idea,” Margaret says, encouragingly. I’d seen it back home in one of the shops near our house and suggested it to her. “People can also donate hats and scarves. We’ll put them under the tree like gifts.”

“The tree will need to go up on Friday. I’ll be in charge of that, but I’m going to need someone with a truck to help.”

Normally I’d depend on the boys to help me, but that obviously can’t happen. Even Charlie quit the club, although I’d overheard him tell Leelee he’d started working at the resort. I’m a little relieved that he’s not just sitting at home, going back down the rabbit hole.

Christina lost a little bit of her smug expression when it was announced I was organizing the project. It took everything I had not to tell Margaret what she had done to me and the boys during the snowstorm, but we’d agreed to keep that lowkey for now. A big display is only playing into her hands and risking the guys getting into more trouble.

Someone speaks out from the group. “I have a truck if you need help at the tree farm.”