“Hold on. Let’s not be hasty.” Sarah popped the lid off her coffee and licked the whipped cream. “If Rush wants to keep funding us after graduation, who am I to argue?”
“Sarah,” Rachel barked, in full big-sister mode, and Rush nearly laughed. Even he recognized himself in that tone. “He’s paid every dime of our college education so we could get good jobs and pay for ourselves.”
“Kidding, kidding,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. She sipped her coffee then grinned. “But for the record, I don’t graduate until the spring. And you know we love you, Rush.”
He didn’t doubt it. Taking care of the girls had never felt like a burden. He didn’t mind—he liked knowing they were safe and happy. He’d kept that promise, at least.
Pop poked through the grocery bags, muttering with approval as he pulled out an assortment of cured deli meats and cheeses, antipasto, and a loaf of Italian bread. “He’s right, girls,” he said gruffly. “He’s looked after you all this time.”
Rush’s throat tightened, and he cleared it quickly. Okay. Enough of that. “What’s new with you two?”
Sarah tore off the end of the crusty loaf of bread and slathered it with butter. “Let’s talk about you instead. How was your date with Lily?”
Pop’s head lifted sharply. “Lily who?”
“Lily Hart,” Rachel said. “One of the Hart girls from the village. She owns that yoga-and-dance studio, right?”
Here we go.Rush concentrated on making his sandwich. “We’re friends.”And maybe not even that anymore,the helpful voice in his head reminded him.
Not after Friday night when he’d messed things up by having a panic attack and practically drop-kicking Lily at her door.
Sarah arched a brow. “Funny, Monica saw you two walking around Candlelight Night together, looking real cozy.”
Of course Monica did. He should’ve arrested her last summer for indecent exposure when she climbed half naked into his truck.
“I’m not dating Lily,” Rush said flatly. He tossed Riggs the last bite of his sandwich and folded up his paper plate, already planning his exit. It was his day off. There were a hundred things on his to-do list before his move next month.
Rachel only smiled faintly. “You shaved your scruff. Even trimmed that mustache. Men only bother with grooming when they want to impress someone.”
Pop gave a wheezy chuckle. “She’s got you there.”
Rush scowled. “I shave.”
“Barely,” Rachel countered, looking amused. “Rush, we’re not meddling. We just want you to be happy.”
“Yeah,” Sarah added quickly. “And maybe not spend Christmas alone again. You and Riggs can’t just hole up in the house.”
Rush leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Where are you two headed?”
“Ski trip with friends,” Rachel said.
“Perfect,” Rush said. “I’ll pick up some overtime.”
“Or,” Rachel said softly, “you could spend Christmas withsomeone who actually makes you smile.” She hesitated, searching his face. “Boston’s not the only future you could have, you know.”
Rush kept his face unreadable, even if that one stung. “Boston’s the future I want.”
Sarah exchanged a look with Rachel. “Fine. You and Pop can spend the holiday together.”
“Leave me out of it,” Pop said. “Joanne promised me a rematch of our game.”
Rush pushed back his chair and stood. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
The girls exchanged another look, but they didn’t press, and he was thankful.
They finished lunch and a few hands of poker, during which Pops cheated outrageously and still managed to win every hand. Eventually, he began to fade, the sharp glint in his eyes softening to a hazy tiredness. He got turned around looking for the bathroom down the hall, muttering to himself, so the girls gathered their bags and kissed him goodbye, promising to be back next Sunday.
Rush stayed behind, helping Pop into his flannel pajama top and guiding him into bed. Pop’s hands shook as he climbed under the covers, and his eyes went glassy and unfocused.
