“You’re going to love her,” he said softly.“And she’s going to love you.Trust me.”
Bonnie managed a shaky smile.“Easy for you to say.You’re her favorite.”
He leaned over and kissed her temple.“You’re mine.That counts for a lot.”
They climbed out of the truck.The front door opened before they even reached the porch steps.
Grams stood there, smaller than Bonnie had imagined but radiating quiet strength.Her silver hair was pulled back in a neat bun.She was wearing a floral housecoat and had eyes that missed nothing.She looked frail in the way older women sometimes did, with thin wrists and a careful posture, but there was steel in her spine.
“Victor,” she said, voice warm with affection.Then her gaze shifted to Bonnie, curious and appraising.“And you must be Bonnie.”
Bonnie’s mouth went dry.She stepped forward, offering her hand.“Yes, ma’am.It’s really nice to meet you.”
Grams took her hand in both of hers, grip surprisingly firm.“None of that ‘ma’am’ business.Call me Grams.Everyone does.”She studied Bonnie’s face for a long moment, then smiled.“Well, aren’t you a pretty one.Come on in, both of you.I’ve got sweet tea and lemon cookies.”
The house smelled like furniture polish and decades of love.Bonnie followed Vic inside, taking in the details—framed photos on every wall, a worn but comfortable couch, the faint scent of something baking in the kitchen.It felt like a real home.The kind Vic had told her about in quiet moments late at night.
Grams led them to the living room and insisted they sit.Bonnie perched on the edge of the couch, back straight, trying not to fidget.Vic dropped down beside her, close enough that their thighs pressed together, offering silent support.
“So,” Grams said, settling into her recliner with a cup of tea.“Vic tells me you’re a musician.Guitar, right?And you’re working with his band now.”
Bonnie nodded.“Yes.Occupy Yourself.And I’m still playing with my own band, Blazeborn.It’s been a bit of a whirlwind, but a good one.”
Grams’ eyes twinkled.“And how’s my boy treating you?He can be a stubborn mule when he sets his mind to something.”
Vic groaned.“Grams...”
Bonnie felt a surprised laugh bubble up.“He’s been wonderful, actually.Patient.Steady.Plus, he makes the music better just by being there.”
Grams studied her for another long moment, then nodded once, satisfied.“Good.That’s what I like to hear.”
The conversation flowed easier after that.Grams asked about the band, about Bonnie’s own music, about life on the road.Bonnie found herself relaxing, sharing stories about late-night gigs and the chaos of trying to coordinate schedules between her band and OY.Grams listened with the kind of quiet attention that made you feel truly seen.
At one point, Grams stood and moved to a shelf lined with framed photos.She pulled one down and handed it to Bonnie.
“That’s my Rosie,” she said softly.“Vic’s father.”
Bonnie took the photo carefully.It was an old one—Rosie in his prime, guitar slung low, cocky grin on his face, dark hair wild.He looked so much like Vic that it stole her breath for a second.The same stormy gray eyes.The same intensity.
She understood, suddenly and completely, why Meg had fallen for him all those years ago.There was something magnetic about him, even in a still photograph.The kind of charisma that could pull you in and make you believe the wildest promises.
Just like Vic had pulled her in.
“He was a handful,” Grams said, voice fond but edged with old sorrow.“Charming as the devil and twice as stubborn.Broke a lot of hearts, including his own more often than not.”
Bonnie glanced at Vic, who was watching her with soft eyes.She felt a rush of warmth, a deep gratitude that this man, who carried so much of his father’s fire, had chosen a different path.
“I can see where Vic gets it from,” Bonnie said quietly.“The talent.The heart.But he’s...steadier.More grounded.”
Grams smiled, a real one that reached her eyes.“He is.And I think you’re part of the reason why.”
Bonnie’s cheeks warmed.She set the photo down carefully.
The conversation drifted then, relaxed and meandering, until Grams asked about the club and how things were going in Fort Wayne.Vic hesitated for half a second before answering.
“Mostly good,” he said.“But...I told you how Conner showed up again.Causing more trouble.Threatening people.”
Grams’ expression tightened.“That boy.I don’t know what’s gotten into him.He came here again too, asking all kinds of questions about whether you were still in Fort Wayne.I shut the door in his face and didn’t tell him anything, but that boy is persistent, and not in a good way.Always has been.”
