CAMDEN
I get up early the next morning to plow the driveway to the house, a path for everyone to get to the Friendship Bench because it’s still going strong for Grandma Donna, as well as the roads to the resort and the restaurant. We got a foot last night. The trees are outlined with snow, their branches droopy with the heaviness of it. A winter wonderland.
When I pull back into the driveway of the house, I see Judith Summers trekking down the path to the Friendship Bench.
One thing you’ve gotta say about Minnesotans is that we are hardy sons of bitches.
We don’t shut down for anything.
Jackson is in my driveway, his car still running. He gets out when he sees me pull up.
“Hey,” he says. He stretches and yawns, giving me a cheesy grin. “I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, you missed out, man.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Who the hell were those two you had at broomball last night?”
He blinks, like I must be joking. “They could’ve been the best time of your life.”
I groan, and we walk inside the house.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t want to…they’re gorgeous! And up foranything.”
“It was weird. Bringing them around our families, and just assuming I’d want to do anything with either one of them––”
“Aw, come on. Loosen up a little. You could use it. You’re wound tighter than a drum.” He squeezes my shoulders. “My man needs to getlaid.”
I hear a scoff behind me and turn to see Grandma Nancy sitting on the couch.
I glare at Jackson, who widens his eyes in apology.
“Lemonade,” he tries to clarify. “My man needs to getlemonade.”
Grandma Nancy quirks a brow, her lips pinching together. He goes over and kisses her cheek, and she gives him a begrudging smile when he pulls back.
“You’re looking lovely today, Grandma Nancy,” he says.
She pats his cheek. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me just because I’m here.” She waves her hand. “Pretend I’m a fly on the wall.” She takes a sip of tea. “But both of you are too good for those puck bunnies.”
Jackson and I both choke on our laughter.
“What? You think I’m too old to know what that is?” She winks. “One of my grandsons is a professional hockey player, remember? I’ve heard it all. And I’ve seen a few things in my day too,” she adds.
“Yes, you have,” I jump in, not wanting to go down this path where she might share some of those things she’s seen.
Despite the facts, I prefer to keep my grandma in the virginal realm if possible.
I shoot Jackson a look, willing him to be quiet as we walk to the kitchen.
“Sorry, man,” he says as soon as it’s safe. His shoulders deflate, and then he shudders. “I was afraid she was going to tell us she enjoyed threesomes back in her day.”
“I’m going to pretend those words didn’t come out of your mouth,” I mutter with a huff as I grab two mugs out of the cabinet. “Coffee?”
“Sorry. Yeah, thanks,” he says.
I pour some into both mugs and hand him one. “How long are you around? You sticking around a while?”
