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“Are you family?”
“A friend,” I said, my racing heart pounding like a two-hundred-pound gorilla at the possibility of his refusal.
The paramedics loaded Grant into the back of the waiting ambulance, moving fluidly in concert as I stood there helplessly waiting for a response.
“Come on.” He waved me inside, granting me access to the back of the vehicle, and I hopped in. “Sit there.” He pointed, and I did as I was told.
“What hospital are you taking him to?” the angel called out, and I realized I’d almost forgotten all about her.
Almost.
“Saint Johns,” the EMT said before the doors slammed shut, locking us in, and the ambulance took off without a chance for another word to be spoken.
This time, however, my angel’s eyes didn’t stray from mine as the vehicle pulled away. Her focus stayed locked on me, her eyes saying things I still couldn’t understand.
It pissed me off, but I’d concentrate on finding her later, and would figure out what I’d done to make her dislike me so much. For now, I needed to make sure Grant was going to survive and live to see another day.
• • •
Unable to sit still, I paced back and forth in the hospital’s waiting room while they did whatever they were doing to Grant, hoping like hell he’d pull through.
Bits of our conversations over the past few months played in my mind as I remembered the things he’d told me about life and love, always doling out advice like he was an expert on the subject. I considered him one, to be honest.
For me, he was a confidant of sorts, always giving me shit but encouraging me in the same breath. Grant claimed to understand my fairy-tale heart, telling me that I was born in the wrong time, surrounded by the wrong kind of women.
My lips twitched into a smile as I remembered the first time I met him.
After an extra-long run one morning, I found myself sitting alone at a small beachside café. Mumbling to himself, Grant sat at the table next to mine and pulled out a newspaper. He continued talking to himself under his breath, and when I glanced over my shoulder at him, he caught me.
“Was I talking out loud again?” he’d asked, looking sheepish.
Grinning at him, I said, “I didn’t mind.”
“Like I’d give a shit if you did anyway.”
His blunt words caught me off guard, and I almost choked on my water. I laughed and immediately pulled my chair over to his table, settling in.
He raised one bushy gray eyebrow, giving me a stern look. “Did I invite you over here, son?”
“Nope. But I don’t give a shit either,” I fired back.
He’d laughed then, a big, hearty sound that made me smile as he smacked the table with the palm of his hand.
“All right, smartass. You can stay.”
Our friendship began that morning.
I learned that both Grant and his wife, Carol, had been the youngest of all their siblings and were the only ones still living. At least, until his wife passed away a little over a year ago. Since they didn’t have any kids, he was all alone.
Grant said life sucked without her, but every morning he kept waking up, so he guessed it wasn’t his time to go. He’d started jogging out of sheer boredom, or that’s what he always claimed. But the man was toned and wiry, built like a fucking racehorse, and that kind of thing didn’t happen overnight. Especially not at his age.
A doctor holding a clipboard appeared in front of me, startling me out of my memories. “Are you with Grant Masterson?”
I nodded. “Is he okay?”
“He made it through surgery without any issues. We need to keep him here for the next few days for observation, and to make sure no infection sets in. But barring any complications, he should be able to go home Friday.”
“That’s great. Can I see him?”
