"My dad would not hurt me. Even if he wanted to." I spoke and avoided his eye as I did so "The night that you came around was when I kicked him out. He said that I was the one that killed my mother. It was the same words he said to me at her funeral, and it was all a painful reminder."

Stone closed his eyes and exhaled before he gently pulled me closer to him, so my side was pressed against his.

"It was not your fault, Ella."

"What if it was?" I asked as I tilted my head upwards to look at him "The worst thing about her death was the not knowing. I hate being kept in the dark."

He put his arm around me and made sure I was leaning against his sturdy frame as he kissed the top of my head.

I looked up at him in shock.

"It was not your fault." He repeated, "I promise, Baby."

"How do you know that?" I said more to myself, knowing that there was no answer he could give me.

He did answer and his voice went hoarse as he did so. The words felt direct and like an uncovered veracity.

"I know because I can’t imagine someone ever wanting to get away from you." He said lowly against my hair.

The rest of the visit went by silently. He never said anything more. He just held my hand.

Even his presence brought a sensation of security. Just by him being there was enough for me to feel less alone.

He never let go of me until we got back to the truck.

We decided to stop off at a diner not far from the cemetery on the way back.

Stone mentioned that he was hungry. It led to my train of thought turning to how much he ate. He always seemed to be eating but I guess one did not get to his humongous size without eating a lot.

The small rectangular building was empty. It was an abandoned diner in the middle of nowhere and had the same vibe as the ice cream place but with fewer neon features.

The small booth at the back of the restaurant was where we both sat opposite each other. Our position face to face meant that there was no way to hide from his questions.

"You should tell Lana about your dad." He insisted "She would want to be there for you."

I took a long sip of my cola and then answered him "I don't need help. There is nothing to help. Everything is fine."

All he said in the form of a harsh breath was "Medusa."

Turning the conversation to him, I spoke "Tell me more about you and your parents. I doubt they were as eccentric drinkers as my father."

"My dad never drank." Stone replied, "He was a boxer back in the day."

"Really?" I said, wanting to know more about him.