Page 28 of Sterling Clay

“Mavis?”

Oh God, no. This is the last thing I need, but when a body blocks out the sun, and a man squats before me, I can’t fully ignore him.

Instead, I close my eyes, as if I can disappear inside myself and wish him away.

“What’s going on, butterfly?” Clay’s rough masculine voice is full of concern.

The nickname flips a switch inside me. Tears fill my eyes, reminding me of my grandmother. She’d know what to do. She’d hold me when I am desperately in need of a hug.

Leaning forward, I drop my forehead to my knees and let the tears fall, wanting Clay to go away and leave me to my self-pity party.

“Fuck,” he whispers, scooting closer before settling next to me, his back against the wall as well, but he slips his arm around my shoulders and I fall into his side, much like I did last night during the storm.

His other arm wraps around my front, tucking me closer to him, cocooning me against him. I am nothing like the beautiful butterfly Nana once called me. The girl who was quiet and shy and needed to fly. My wings are clipped, pinned back, and holding me permanently in place like a spectacle. I’m not even a pretty butterfly but one that’s ugly-brown and frightening, like a large-winged moth.

Clay’s lips come to my hair, lingering there as he tries to soothe me. “I’ve got you.”

No one has me. No one ever has. I had my sister when she was alive. Now I have Dutton, and I need to take care of him.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I finally whimper.

“Don’t think about that right now.”

He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I need to figure out my next step. I need a job. Money. A home. How did I get so helpless? I’m nearly forty, educated, skilled yet lacking so much.

Tugging out of Clay’s arms, I roughly swipe at my face with the heels of my palms. My makeup must be a fright. Ugly-brown moth syndrome. “My brain is spinning and yet all I can think about is the fact I have nothing.”

“You don’t have nothing,” Clay admonishes.

Turning my head, I glare at him and snarl, “I. Have. Nothing.”

“What happened?”

“There’s no money.” My voice rises as I explain what the insurance agent told me.

Clay intently listens, not offering advice or commentary. Eventually, he casually holds up a hand, his forearm draped over a singular bent knee, and he points one finger. “Five facts. You have Dutton.”

I stare at him.

“You’re healthy and young.” He flicks another finger upward, then adds one more. “You’re smart and beautiful.”

I scoff, wiping underneath each of my eyes again.

“You’re here.” He holds up four fingers, and I’m not certain if this comment means I’m alive or simply that I’m present in Sterling Falls.

He hitches up his thumb. “And you have me.”

I derisively chuckle. Now he’s just mocking me.

“Look, there’s no rush to leave my house. Stay as long as you need.”

I tip my head against the brick wall. The day is surprisingly sunny after the overnight thunderstorm. I could really use a rainbow right now, with a pot of gold at the end of it. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” His tone is a bit defensive.

Rolling my head against the hard surface, I look at him again. “Because we’ve already imposed too long.” Still holding his cool blue stare, I add. “I just thought it’d be so easy. For once, it would be simple.” My voice cracks.

Claim the insurance. Cash the check.