“It felt good to stand on my own, even if but a minute.”
“You fell, Pops. It could have been more serious. You have a concussion.”
“You know the thing about concussions, Junior?”
“What?”
“They’re all in your head.”
The older man laughs. The sound is loud, croaky, and contagious. It’s impossible not to laugh with him.
Both turn their gazes toward the door. “Sorry,” I wince. “I’ll just be over there.” I point down the hall and start to move in the direction of my finger.
“Is that the architect?”
His question stops me in my tracks. Stiles had talked to his grandfather about me?
“Boy, what is she doing out in the hall?” He frowns at Stiles, then turns back to me, his brown eyes lighting up. “Come on in here and let me get a good look atcha.”
Stiles shifts uncomfortably as I enter the room. “Pops, this is Jordyn Sinclair. Jordyn, Jasper Dane.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dane. How are you feeling?”
“Call me Colonel; all my friends do. I’m feeling a little banged up. Wish I could greet you properly.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” I take his gnarled hand. “You gave Jasper quite a scare.”
“Jasper,” he croaks out another laugh. “He lets you call him Jasper? Nobody calls him that, not even his own mama.”
“What does she call him?”
“Jay. Back in Carlton Springs, that’s what everybody called him.”
“Pops,” Stiles warns, but it seems more than just the universal embarrassment of kids having their childhood secrets revealed. I feel like there’s something Stiles doesn’t want me to know, but the colonel moves on so smoothly that I think I might have imagined it.
“Sit down here with me,” he indicates the guest chair. “I could use the company of a pretty woman.”
I take a seat beside the bed while Stiles remains standing with his arms crossed—the stance I recognize as his shield.
“Tell me about yourself,” the colonel asks. “Junior didn’t give me much.”
“I was born and raised in Rock Island County. My folks are still there. I have an older brother who’s married. No kids yet, but I’m looking forward to being an auntie and spoiling them rotten. One of my best friends, Dee, is expecting in November, so I’ll get in some practice.”
“You like kids?”
“I do. I mean, I like when I get to hold them and play with them, then hand them back to their parents.”
“Don’t you want any of your own?”
“Pops,” Stiles warns again.
“Hush up, Junior. Jordyn and I are just talking. You don’t mind my questions, do you, darling?”
“Not at all.” I inch my smile over to Stiles, who stares back at me grimly. “I’m busy with my career,” I say, turning back to the colonel. “A husband and children aren’t part of any short-term or even long-term plan.”
“But you’re not ruling it out.”
“My dad always taught me to keep my options open, so nothing is ever ruled out completely. I just don’t foresee it.”
