“That had to be hard.”
“It was.”
Her smile softens. “But it was worth it.”
Something twists painfully in my chest. Because I know she isn’t talking about Grandpa anymore.
She’s talking about risk. About caring when you shouldn’t and jumping anyway.
I stare down at my boots. “Things are complicated.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
Another one of those knowing smiles.
“I don’t have to know the details to see the struggle inside you.”
I rub the back of my neck.
A few moments later, the front door opens, and Harleigh appears.
Her eyes fall on us. “What are you two over there whispering about?”
Grandma pats my hand as she stands carefully. “I was just offering Axle here a piece of my pecan pie.”
Before she heads toward the door, she pauses beside me.
“That plate is in the refrigerator. As is a slice of pie. And Jovie does love my pecan pie.”
She leans down and kisses the top of my head exactly like she did when I was a little boy.
“Good night, Axle.”
I watch her disappear into the house with Harleigh following behind her.
Across the yard, Cabe laughs at something Royce said.
I close my eyes.
Taking her dinner is a terrible idea. I should let things die down before anybody gets hurt.
But all I can think about is a dark cabin. A stubborn woman who skipped supper. And the possibility that she’s sitting over there alone, feeling just as wrecked as I do.
I mutter a curse, then push myself out of the rocking chair and head inside to the refrigerator.
Jovie
I’m sitting cross-legged on a mountain of blankets in the middle of my living room, pretending I’m paying attention to the true crime documentary playing on the television.
I’m not.
I haven’t absorbed a single word.
Every few minutes, my eyes flick toward my phone. Then back to the television.
Should I text him?
