Page 12 of Sterling Clay

Because Dutton was a child, full of imagination and exploration, and I didn’t want to squander, squash, or dissuade him. If he wanted to be a fucking princess, he could be whoever the hell he wanted to be.

And if he did want to be a girl or was gay or wanted to be any newly defined term, I would love him unconditionally. Un.Con.Ditionally.

My ex disagreed and that was the final straw.

To my surprise, Dutton never asks about Wesley. A quiet relief fills the empty well once within my son. Although spending time with my parents hadn’t done Dutton many favors, being around my father restored his faith in men a teeny bit. My father hadn’t been physically cruel or outwardly aggressive. He wasn’t verbally abusive or demeaning. Any chastising digs he made were aimed at me.

Cecilia wouldn’t want this. The reminder of my sister’s perfection was constant. She would have made better decisions. She would have done a better job than me.

“Okay, baby. Time for bed.”

Dutton groans. I kiss his head and roll off the side of the bed, taking the chapter book with me. After setting it on the nightstand, I turn toward Dutton, watching him slip deeper beneath the blankets and then I pull the covers to his shoulders.

“Sleep well, my love.” I swipe a hand over his dark, shaggy bangs.

He smiles before his expression turns pensive. “Are we going to live here now?”

I kneel beside the bed, leaning on the edge to be at his level. “No, honey. But Mr. Sylver is letting us stay a while.”

“Until he’s not sick.”

I’m not certain how long we’ll be here, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome and I don’t want to take advantage of Clay. Still, canceling the motel reservation for a few nights will make me rest easier knowing the extra money will remain in my pocket for now.

“I don’t know, baby. But we’re safe here.” That’s the question he’s really asking.

“I don’t want to go home,” he whispers, recalling our house in town. The beautiful historic place on a gorgeous boulevard off the business district of Sterling Falls. The one bought under false pretense and with money we didn’t have. The one purchased with a promise of forever when eternity wasn’t a possibility.

“We aren’t ever going back.” I run my hand through his thick hair and cup it on the top of his head, lowering my forehead to his. We didn’t have a place to call home now, but we’d find one. We’d make something great out of the grains of sand we had. The thought reminds me of the princess chapter book we are reading where the heroine has a jar of loose sand she’s convinced is magical.

I’ll make it happen for him. For us.

First, I need to reclaim what I can of the property loss here. Then, we’ll make a plan.

Running the tip of my nose over his, I say, “I love you, little bear.”

“I love you, too, mama bear.”

That’s all that matters in this world.

+ + +

Hours later, I check on Clay, certain he’s sleeping like he had been the last time I checked, right after putting Dutton to bed.

Instead, Clay is awake, staring at his phone again. I remember a man like that, constantly looking at the device like an extension of his hand. He’d been checking on deals he’d dickered and checking in on the other people in his life.

“Mavis?” Clay softly calls my name in the darkness of his room. The only light is naturally floating in from the outside and the illumination of his phone.

“Just wanted to check on you one more time before I go to bed.”

Clay has rolled to his back, and he slowly sits upright. He wears a T-shirt when he wasn’t earlier. He’s kicked off the blankets once covering his legs and his black sweatpants are tugged up to below his kneecaps. The fever medication must be kicking in if he’s warm.

“Is Dutton all settled in? Everything good for him?”

I smile at his concerned questions. “He’ll sleep like a hibernating bear cub in that bed. Thank you.”

Clay slowly lowers his head but looks at me with a playful gaze. “Will you sleep well in there?”

“I’ll be just fine.” I feel exceptionally comfortable here. Too safe. “Thank you.”