Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(69)

Fucking and cursing—two of the things I’m really good at—are off limits in this house. The little smile she tries to suppress offers me some relief and emboldens me to go on.

“I’m in therapy, and I hope that’ll help.” I circle the rim of the mug with my index finger. “I’ve just never felt like this about anyone, about anything really, before. I’m not always sure how to handle it.”

“Can I give you a little cheat sheet?” Aunt Ruthie waits for my nod before going on. “Don’t just act out of what you think is best for her. You’re not her parent. You’re not her father. Think about what will show her that you love her and understand her. That’s important to Kai.”

It’s a simple thing, but it forces Kai’s words during our infamous fight back into my head.

“Do you have any idea how opposite of love that is?”

I can’t say a light bulb clicks over my head. I don’t know if it’s a eureka, but I think that insight could be a light for my path, illuminating how I should go forward, one step at a time. I want to pay Aunt Ruthie ten years of counseling fees for it.

Who needs Dr. Ramirez?





BY THE TIME I WAKE UP, shower, and make my way to the kitchen, the counters are loaded with raw chicken, fresh ears of corn, sweet potatoes, flour, and all the things that will make this day incredibly fattening and lots of fun. My boyfriend, the rock star, is peeling potatoes . . . and not very well. I better take that knife from him before he never plays piano again.

“Let me get that, baby.” I reach for the knife, but he holds on.

“I got it.” He leans up for a quick kiss before returning to the pitiful pile of stumps that used to be potatoes.

Aunt Ruthie levels a wide-eyed stare over his head, begging me to get him out of her kitchen.

“Um, Rhyson, maybe we should go check on things downstairs at Glory Bee,” I say. “See if we can find a way to stay out of sight, but still help down there.”

The awkward silence following my statement swells in the small kitchen.

“What?” My eyes flick from Rhyson to Aunt Ruthie. “Something wrong at the diner?”

“Well, we’re taking the week off.” Aunt Ruthie wipes her hands on the apron I gave her one Christmas.

“The week off?” My jaw drops. “Glory Bee has never been closed for a week.”

“Exactly.” Rhyson frowns at a particularly stubborn section of peel. “Aunt Ruthie’s past due for a vacation.”

“And if we close the diner while you’re here, easier to keep your visit off the radar.” Aunt Ruthie goes to the sink to rinse a few chicken thighs.

“Can you afford that, Aunt Ruthie?” I can’t keep the concern out of my voice. If my presence here costs her something, I may need to find somewhere else to recuperate. I don’t miss the quick look Rhyson and Aunt Ruthie exchange. A conspiracy if I ever saw one.

“Or maybe I should ask Rhys if he can afford it?” Hand on hip, I tilt my head and give him a meaningful look. Letting him know the jig’s up. “What did you do, Rhys?”

He sets the knife and potato aside, standing up to wrap his arms at the elbows around my hips.

“What I always do.” He kisses my eyes and then my nose. “Whatever it takes.”

“What did you do, baby?” I repeat, but this time brushing the wild spill of hair back from his face.

“He asked me what it would take to close Glory Bee down for the week,” Aunt Ruthie answers for him. “And he’s covering our losses.”

I glance over my shoulder at Aunt Ruthie, rinsing a big bucket of black-eyed peas, wearing her “no shame in my game” face.

“Unlike you,” she says with a grin. “I have no trouble taking money from your rich boyfriend.”

Rhyson’s lips twitch almost imperceptibly, but I don’t miss the satisfaction in his eyes. Still, his shoulders tense under my hands while he waits for my response. I know I’m stubborn and sometimes unreasonable, but this was sweet for Aunt Ruthie. And she really hasn’t had many breaks since Mama passed. And none before.

“Thank you,” I whisper, tipping up to kiss his chin.

For a moment, he’s not sure what to say. He studies me an extra second before kissing behind my ear.

“Any time. Every time.”

“It’s a good thing, too,” Aunt Ruthie says. “Already had a few reporters nosing around.”

“What?” All softness drops from Rhyson’s expression. “You didn’t tell me that. I can get security here today.”

“No need for that. We threw ‘em off the scent.” Aunt Ruthie shakes her head and scrunches her nose. “Closing the diner and keeping a low profile with just a few folks we know we can trust should be fine.”

“It’ll be fine,” I assure him. “Everyone coming today will be a friend who won’t say anything. We’ll be in the backyard. It’ll be fun. We’ll show you all the wonderful things the country has to offer.”

He tightens his arms around me, a smile softening his lips.

“I already got the best thing this place has to offer.”



There are some days that bundle all your favorite things into a series of moments you’d live over and over again if you could. Today is one of those days. I’m surrounded by people I’d forgotten were my favorites, people I can tell aren’t sure what to make of me now, but are trying to act normal. Trying to reconcile the little girl who sang in the choir and volunteered at the homeless shelter every Christmas Eve with the woman who’s been on tour and in the spotlight. Whose well-documented relationship is speculated about on every blog and entertainment report Whose rock star lover sits right beside her at the picnic table behind our little house, and can’ t keep his hands to himself.