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Somewhere along the way, a few people recognize me, but I don’t acknowledge the shouts and calls for autographs.

Now what?

My doorbell buzzes for the fourth time, but I don’t move from my lounger, where I stare aimlessly at the computer screen that’s tracking Grace’s flight to Greece. One hand holds my phone and the other a bottle of Johnny Walker.

Voices grow loud inside my condo behind me, and I groan into the night, cursing loudly.

Why do I give these fucking people keys to my place?

“He’s out here!” Mathis yells backwards, finding me on the balcony.

Immediately, people crowd around me, Bizzy scooting in and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She bumps my hip until I make enough room for her to lay out beside me.

“We heard,” is all she says.

“Bad news travels fast.”

Someone tries to remove the bottle of Johnny Walker from my grip, and I growl until Grandpa Roy’s face appears in front of mine.

“Rude not to share.” He takes a swig directly from the bottle and eyes me warily.

“Not feeling very hospitable.” I return his glare.

“She didn’t tell you.”

“She told me half, I freaked, she ran… I went after her. But then I couldn’t get to her.” I surmise the story in two sentences.

“Stubborn ass granddaughter of mine.”

I give a strangled laugh. “She said that. On the boat, she said she should have listened to you. At the time, I didn’t understand. Something about letting me apologize.”

“Did she tell you anything?” Logan pulls up a chair, followed by Shaw, Mathis, Carl, and

Sharon.

“Jesus, how many of you are there?” I twist my head and search my condo to see if my own parents are lurking in the shadows. Bizzy gives a small giggle and places her head on my chest.

“She didn’t tell you.” Logan reaches for the bottle from Roy. I watch as the rest of my JW disappears into Logan’s mouth.

“I’ll tell him.” Carl leans his elbows on his knees, eyes piercing into mine.

He repeats the events from last night and the extent of Grace’s opportunity in Greece. Apparently, Logan went to work today and spent every hour researching the artist Grace will be studying under. This isn’t some measly opportunity to gain credentials; this is big time. Grace could be famous in her industry once the year is over.

Bizzy gently takes my phone, handing it to Shaw, then does the same with my computer to Mathis. I start to argue, but Shaw shoots me a warning look, his hand flexing into a fist. He’s not happy about Bizzy being draped around me, but he won’t dare say anything.

“She loves you, Nick,” Sharon tells me gently. “Unfortunately, she has a lot of the Rae and Monroe traits. Regardless of the opportunity, she wasn’t going to back down once she committed. Now, we need to figure out how to make this right.”

My head pounds, and the need to be alone overwhelms me. “Is everyone always this meddling?” I ask out loud.

“Always,” everyone responds.

I lay my head back and close my eyes, picturing Grace the night she showed me the small glass sculpture of the peach tree she created. Her face lit up with so much happiness that I know this is where she needs to be.

Memories of the last three months flash through my mind, and I hold tight to Bizzy, needing her more than ever. She doesn’t let go, finally whispering in my ear, “You have to go to her.”

I snap my eyes open and zone in on Shaw. “I need you.”

“I’ll do what I can do. It’ll be tough. You win the next two games, you’ll have twelve days between season and divisional championships. You can skate out for four days max. ”

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