“I know that.” And he appreciated it. “Did she know I would take care of her if she needed it? Yes. But she didn’t ask me to. She didn’t expect it.”
His mom nodded. “Good. Then I’ll lay that concern to rest.”
It was good timing, too, since he heard Wren’s footsteps descending the wooden stairs and called out to her. “We’re in the kitchen.”
“That smells amazing,” Wren said as she walked in, pointedly not looking at him.
He really hoped she didn’t start laughing at him and force him to explain to his mother why she was so amused.
But she didn’t. “What can I do to help?”
His mom looked around. “I’m finishing up the gravy, so if you want to mash those potatoes, we can eat soon. Grant, go visit with your father.”
Dismissed, he gave Wren a reassuring smile and then went in search of his dad. He wasn’t hard to find.
Every evening, before dinner, his father sat on the front porch for a few minutes. It didn’t matter that it was winter. It was a habit he’d had for as long as Grant could remember. He claimed it let him clear his head and put the work day behind him so he could enjoy dinner and the evening with his family.
But even though it was his time, he’d never minded if one or both of his sons joined him, so Grant sat in one of the wooden chairs and leaned his head back.
It was pretty, he thought, despite the low temperature. The lights from the house reflected on the snow and the trees that separated the property from the road were dusted with fresh powder. It was quiet and peaceful.
This had been the dream. All those times he’d mentally rehearsed asking Wren to be his wife, this was the dream he’d been asking her to share with him.
A house with a porch for sitting together at the end of a long day. If he stayed with Boston Fire and they had made their life there, the view would have been different, but there would still have been a porch swing and holding hands. Family. Friends. Food. Laughter.
“I guess your mother’s probably fussed over you,” his dad said after a few minutes.
“Yeah. She threatened me with the spatula when I told her not to worry about me.”
“You should have seen her after you said you were bringing that woman home with you.”
“That woman. Is that what Mom calls her?”
“When she’s feeling generous.” He turned his head so they could share a you know how she gets look. “She told me Wren’s story. Sounds like she could have saved you both some heartache if she’d just told you what was going on.”
Even though he’d obviously thought that himself, he was compelled to defend Wren. “She admits she reacted out of fear and didn’t think it through.”
“You’re saying her instinct told her to run.”
Grant’s entire life, people had told him he was just like his dad and he was pretty damn proud of that. But it also meant they shared a similar thought process and he didn’t like having his own thoughts said out loud to him. “I guess so.”
“Even though she knew you loved her.”
“Yeah, I thought I loved her. But I guess I didn’t really know her well enough to truly love her, did I?” He shrugged one shoulder, a casual gesture that belied the emotions careening around in his head. “Because she didn’t love me enough to share her story with me and I thought she did.”
His dad made that mmm...maybe sound that drove him nuts. “That’s how we see it. But I don’t know what it feels like to be helpless while a man I’m afraid of beats my brother so badly he has to be hospitalized. I think if I watched that happen, I’d have a whole lot of fear of watching him beat somebody else I loved that badly.”
“And her brother told her it was her fault and hasn’t spoken to her since.”
“Oh, that ain’t right. Hard to trust people who say they’ve got your back once your own family doesn’t.”
Grant shook his head and sighed, watching his breath form an icy cloud. “I think I would have. But like you said, we don’t know what it feels like to be in the situation she was in.”
The big door opened, followed by the screen door opening just enough for Wren to see them. “Dinner’s ready.”
Considering their conversation, Grant was relieved when his dad gave her a warm smile. “We’ll be right in. I hope you like roast pork, because my wife’s is the best.”
“I haven’t had her roast pork yet, but I was the gravy taste tester, and it’s delicious.”
