She was frowning. That concerned look she got. “What happened? Did hospice send him back?”

“He fell with a hospice worker there. Apparently he got up in the middle of the night because he’s stubborn. Hit his head and they had to send him back due to blood loss.”

Her frown deepened. “Oh no. That’s terrible. Bless his heart. This has got to be so hard on you, being here. Yes, if you don’t mind waiting on me, I would love to go Saturday. But if you want to go on early, I can drive up after work. I know my way to Franklin.”

I was selfish. I wanted to see Uncle D, but I wanted her with me. “I’ll wait on you. Be better driving back late. Your brother would feel better about me driving.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure he would. But if you need to get there, I am perfectly capable of driving at night. He likes to pretend I’m still eight years old with pigtails, but I’m not.”

No, she definitely was not.

“I’ll wait on you,” I repeated.

She sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’ll bring coffee and muffins. Mom will have us an apple pie ready.”

I wish my uncle could actually eat an apple pie. He was on an IV and refusing to eat. When he tried, he threw it up.

“Thanks. But he’s not keeping food down. Doubt he’ll be able to enjoy that pie.”

Her eyes looked so full of sadness and sorrow I wanted to hug her. Not to make her feel better, but because she could feel that for an old man she hardly knew. Uncle D didn’t have many people in his life. We’d worked on the farm and he hadn’t been a social man. Having someone care about him like that other than me meant so damn much.

“Then I’ll be sure to have some entertaining stories to tell him. He likes my stories,” she said with a nod. Like that was her mission now. If she only knew how just showing up would be enough for him and for me.

“I’m sure he’ll love that.”

She smiled. A sad one. Then turned to leave. I was watching her go, unsure what to say and wondering about Crawford. Where was he? Did he not care about her going with me to Franklin?

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

VALE

WHEN I GOT back to my room, Jude was sitting on the bed with a book in her hands, and the smell of daisies hit me. I glanced over to see a huge bouquet by my bed. Crawford.

“Your boyfriend stopped by,” she said, smiling. “He’s really nice.”

Yes, he was. Always nice. The perfect guy.

I hadn’t turned my phone on all morning, so I wasn’t sure if he had texted or called. I knew he had practice again today. That and his classes. I didn’t see a reason to bother him. But seeing the flowers made me feel guilty.

He was busy here and I had let him be. I didn’t go out of my way to see him. During classes yesterday, I had seen a glimpse of him surrounded by girls. He seemed to be enjoying himself. And the odd thing was, I didn’t care.

That bothered me the most.

I took the card from the flowers and opened it up.

This week has been too busy and I miss you. Sunday afternoon is ours. I have somewhere I want to take you. Love, Crawford

I didn’t read it again. Instead, I sat the card down on the table and looked straight ahead out the window. I’d never felt so lost.

* * *

SATURDAY MORNING I arrived thirty minutes early to help Isla get the place open. I had worked with Connie and Blake on Thursday morning. Isla worked on Wednesday mornings and weekends.

Isla was a lot more pleasant than Connie. I was almost convinced that Connie hated the job. Blake was a lot more chipper, and I enjoyed chatting with him during down times. Connie texted a lot and mumbled curse words. Not real pleasant.

Blake was a senior at Bington and was majoring in mass communications. I had been considering that and was curious if he was happy with that decision now that he was almost done.

I did pick up on the fact Blake wasn’t a fan of the Greek, so I didn’t mention my brother being in Kappa Sigma. I myself wasn’t going to join a sorority simply because I liked to keep to myself. I wasn’t a very social person.

When things started to pick up on Saturday, it was almost nine. Even then, the early crowd was over thirty. The college-age crowd didn’t start drifting in until closer to ten. I had almost learned how to make all the drinks without the cheat sheet taped to the counter. I also knew all the different muffins now and the names of the pastries.

“God, he is gorgeous,” Isla said under her breath as she handed me a chocolate-chip muffin. I started to ask who, when I followed her gaze to see Slate walking in the door.

Oh.

“He’s a slut, though. Sleeps with a girl, then on to the next one the next day. I wouldn’t go there, but I love to look at him. He’s got a pirate thing going for him. He just needs an earring,” she added with a giggle.

Slate’s eyes met mine and I smiled. This was going to be a hard day for him. Isla didn’t know that. She only knew what Slate had let the world around him see. I knew he had a reputation, but he was also a human. Someone’s nephew. He had a soul. And it was hurting.

I handed a customer his muffin. I wasn’t sure how to respond to Isla or if I should just let her estimation of him go. Maybe that was what he wanted people to think. Who was I to change that?

“Can I help you?” I asked the next customer.

“A Butterfinger latte with light whip and a banana nut muffin. Two forks, and make it warm, please.”

I rang them up before going to fix the drink. This was a popular one. I made it several times a day. Isla came with the large muffin, nice and warm, on a plate with two forks. We made a good team in the mornings.

“Here you go,” I told the customer.

Then Slate stepped up. “Good morning,” I said, knowing this wasn’t a good morning for him.

He smiled at me and the sadness seemed to fade. I had an urge to hug him. I’d had that Thursday in his room, too. It had taken all my willpower not to.

“Morning. You look good in the yellow apron,” he replied. His voice still had the raspy, sleepy sound to it. He hadn’t been awake long.

I held it out and curtsied, because somehow I knew he would laugh. It was weird how I sometimes could anticipate what he needed from me. Like I expected him to, he laughed. A real one.

“Now, what can I get you?”

“Black coffee and one of those cream-cheese croissant things.”

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Vanilla.”

I nodded. “Good choice. I don’t like the chocolate one.”

“Me either.”

I turned to see Isla watching me like I had lost my mind. I was confused for a moment, then remembered what she had said when he walked in. Normally she was off getting the customers’ food request. Not this time. She was frozen in her spot. It was awkward, so I smiled at her and said, “Isla, this is my friend Slate. Slate, this is Isla. She’s the pro here and is teaching me everything.”

Slate nodded her way and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Isla.”

“Uh, yeah, uh, you too,” she said, then cut her eyes at me like she couldn’t believe me before going to get his croissant.

I fixed his black coffee. The easiest drink I had done all day.

“You enjoying the job?” Slate asked as I handed him his coffee.

I nodded. “Yes. It’s fun, and I get to smell coffee all morning. It doesn’t get much better.”

He chuckled just as Isla came back with his croissant. He thanked her and I was afraid she’d melt in a puddle on the floor. She barely got out a “you’re welcome” before running to the back room.