Page 56 of Sterling Stone

When I pull the kitchen chair away from the table, it scrapes on the linoleum flooring, and I wince as the noise sounds like thunder rattling the shingles on the roof.

Taxi needs her rest, and I take a seat, setting my phone in my hand to send out an update in the family group chat about Trudy’s condition and Taxi’s present location.

As if just thinking of her conjures her, she’s suddenly standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Her wild dark hair is tied up on her head and she’s wearing a deep magenta velvet robe that looks three-sizes too large for her.

“It’s Aunt Trudy’s,” she says, glancing down at herself before leaning against the opening to the kitchen. One leg crosses over the other, separating the fold of the robe and exposing the shapely length of her leg. Her head tips to the side as she tugs at the two ends of the robe’s belt.

“I can’t sleep.”

Once upon a time, I’d argue with Hudson or one of my younger siblings that they hadn’t given sleep enough of a chance. They’d want a drink of water or need to use the bathroom for a third time.

Only ten minutes might have passed since Taxi told me she wanted to lie down.

“I need a distraction.” Her silver eyes are exhausted and sad, but also sheepish, and she quickly dips them, glancing down at her toes. “Want to take my mind off things, Superman?”

Leaning back in the hard chair, I stare at her for a long moment. Taking in how she’s avoiding a glance in my direction, while her voice drops lower. Low, but tired, despite what I think she’s proposing.

Her shoulders hunch forward. Her hand clutches at the two folds of the robe before both hands slip into the giant pockets.

She doesn’t really want what she’s suggesting.

As much as the nickname she’d given me once upon a time sends my belly swirling, tonight isn’t the night for anything other than rest.

And the longer I stare at her, I realize her ask might be a silent cry for comfort and support, not one of desire.

Her vulnerability tears at my sternum.

Slowly, I stand from the kitchen chair and close the distance between us, scooping a few loose strands of her hair around her ear and cupping the back of her neck.

Taxi shifts, releasing her hands from her pockets and crossing her arms over her chest, like a small barrier between us. A wall between what she’s asking for and what she really needs.

Tipping my head forward, I bring hers to mine, resting our foreheads together.

“Tallulah Alexander, I’d give you anything you need, but I won’t do this.” My tone is quiet but firm. I’m not rejecting her, I’m accepting her pain. I’m sensing she’ll regret any decisions made under stress and exhaustion.

“Because of Emerson,” she quietly asks.

I shake my head gently against hers before pulling back and tipping up her chin, so she’ll look at me. Those silvery eyes that I recall as so playfully gleaming are dull, almost gray, cloudy on the verge of a quiet storm.

“Taxi, I already told you that Em is nothing more than a friend, but I’ll reiterate it again. Nothing ever has, and nothing ever will, be more than a work friendship between us.” I stare into those eyes that make my knees a bit weak. “I haven’t been with anyone since long before last summer.”

The last bit of information isn’t necessary for our current position. The one where she is vulnerable and I’m trying to be an upstanding man, but I want her to know that just like I told her a year ago, I don’t sleep around. Not randomly, not casually, and that includes Emerson.

Her eyes briefly widen before she must decide on something. She nods once as if accepting that Em is important to me, but not more than any other friend.

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to tug Taxi into my arms, hold her against me, press her where my heart hammers, and wrap my arms around her to protect her. Protect her from herself and her pinging emotions.

I can only imagine the thoughts in her head. Her fears for her aunt. Her concerns for the future. Her guilt, as she expressed earlier.

But tonight, I don’t want her thinking about any of that.

“I’m here for you,” I say, hoping to impart my meaning. Let me be her rock, not her distraction.

She nods like she hears me, but I’m not certain she’s really listening.

Bending at the knees, I scoop her up, and she screeches in surprise before quickly wrapping her arms around my neck. She lets out a sharp laugh, reminding me of that tambourine tingle from the night we met. The sound travels down my chest to a place that won’t be gratified.

I carry Taxi back to the living room, which is now doused in darkness, and set her on the couch she made up like a bed.