AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I want to cling to it.
Even as I realize it’s a bit hypocritical and maybe I have no good reason to criticize Ros for finding her own ways to hide from reality and its punches.
I know.
I knowI’m burying myself in Grant Faircross and this fast-moving illusion of a life together. Probably to avoid having to face my mother and the death clock ticking down day by day.
Am I really so different from Ros? Knowing she’s hiding in the illusion of Aleksander, too.
Ugh, I hate that thought.
But this thing with Grant, it’s not dangerous or weird.
It’s not hurting me.
It’s notchangingme for the worse.
What’s going on with Ros and Aleksander feels like a textbook toxic relationship.
I know it and I think Ros does, too, or she wouldn’t try so hard to bury it.
I break Grant’s honey-brown gaze just as Nell comes spilling down the stairs, brandishing her still-damp hands proudly. “All clean!”
“Right.” I force myself to look away from the handsome beast-man still watching me like I’m everything. “C’mon then. Let’s go set the table.”
It takes twice as long to put out plates and cutlery with a little girl underfoot, and three times as long with a giant lunk of a man coming to 'help' but pretending he doesn’t know where the forks and glasses go, just so Nell can correct him and set everything right.
My smile is glued to me, watching them together.
No, it’s not just themtogether.
It’sus.
This is what coming home should feel like.
Family.
I can practically hear Grant’s stomach rumbling by the time I pull everything out of the oven and fill our plates. Nell insists on saying grace—she really respects her grandparents and their traditions—then wrinkles her nose at the spicy meatloaf.
“It smells... itchy,” she complains from her seat on one side of the cozy square table. “It makes my nose scratchy.”
A second later, she sneezes into her elbow dramatically.
“Good thing you don’t have to eat it,” I tease, dropping a thick slab of meatloaf flecked with chili flakes onto Grant’s plate. “That’s all for the big guy. Let’s see if I can make him breathe fire tonight.”
I wink at him.
“You can do that without the meatloaf just fine,” Grant mutters under his breath.
Nell blinks, her little eyes rounding.
“You can breathe fire, Uncle Grant?”
I snicker and nudge him under the table. “Be nice.”
Nell’s a little too smart for her own good. Plus, if he makes me blush any harder, she’ll figure out he’s not talking about spicy food.
But my blush comes back for a different reason as Grant takes a bite, then lets out a low, pleased groan. “Oh, yeah. Goddamn, that’s good.”
