“No, it’s not,” she said. “All this time Clay’s been fighting for his life and I’ve been going on just living my life, carrying on without a care in the world. I have no right to have fun.”
Colin grabbed her other hand. “Lila, you didn’t know. None of us did. This is the way Clay wanted things and the last thing he would want is for you to stop living your life. Not that you seemed to have much of a life in that dump. Why exactly were you living in th
at apartment with no furniture or food? What happened to your job?”
Lila was grateful that another waitress chose that moment to come up to them.
“Morning, what can I get for ya’?” she asked, smacking some gum between her teeth.
“I’ll have the special,” Colin said. “And coffee.”
“Same for me,” Trace spoke up.
“I’ll just have coffee,” Lila ordered. She didn’t like to eat much in the mornings and her appetite seemed to have dwindled over the past few weeks.
Plus she had thirty-four dollars to her name. Things were tight, very tight.
“She’ll also have some French toast with extra syrup,” Colin added, “and a glass of milk.”
Lila scowled but made no comment until the waitress turned to walk away, her sneakers squeaking on the floor.
“What’d you do that for?” She turned to Colin, eager for an argument, anything to distract her from thinking about Clay.
He raised a brow and sat back against the seat. “You need to eat breakfast, Lila. You are not having just coffee.”
“I think I’m old enough to decide for myself what I want for breakfast, Colin. You know I don’t like eating in the mornings.”
Trace sat back, crossing his arms as he watched them.
“We remember, but you seem to have forgotten Clay’s rule about that,” Colin said as the waitress brought over their coffee and milk.
Of course she hadn’t forgotten. Clay had insisted that she eat something in the mornings, even if it was just an apple. He didn’t want her going off for the day without something in her stomach.
She smiled as she remembered the quiet, patient way he’d spoken in his slow drawl. She eyed Colin and Trace. “I’m grown now. Those rules don’t apply.” Not that he’d had many—mostly things to do with respect and safety, like not staying out past curfew, and carrying her cell phone with her when she left the house, that sort of thing.
“Maybe not, but you’ve got to look after yourself,” Trace said gently but firmly. “And we’re going to ensure you do.”
She so didn’t like the sound of that.
Colin squeezed her thigh, sending a shock of pleasure through her system and distracting her nicely. “I’m so glad to have you with us, you know. I missed you.”
His words warmed her from the inside out and she melted, her annoyance at their high-handedness fading. “I missed you guys, too.”
They both smiled at her and she realized it was true. They had missed her.
“So how’s work going?” she asked Colin. “Clay said you were thinking about buying the business from Sam Marshall.”
“He retired last month,” Colin replied with a grin. “It’s been busy, but good really good. Even if it means taking on Miss Angela and Elvis as my number one patients.”
“Oh my God, is that dog still alive, he seemed ancient when I was a teenager.”
Colin nodded with a smile. “Still alive, of course Miss Angela believes it’s because he’s the reincarnation of Elvis. I had to convince her last week that feeding him fried chicken was not good for his heart.”
Lila giggled. “That dog would be more believable as Elvis reincarnated if he was a hound dog or something more masculine, but a Pomeranian?”
Trace kept silent as they talked, but then Trace had always been the quiet one. He was the only one who hadn’t gone to college, preferring to work with horses than sit in a classroom.
Their plates of food arrived, the men’s laden high with fried eggs, ham, potatoes and mushrooms. Her own plate had thick slices of French toast swimming in syrup.