We’re barely through the front door when Grant checks his watch and grimaces. “I need to get going soon. We have a game tonight, and I still need to change clothes and grab my gear before I head to the arena.”
The reminder that he dropped everything to come rescue me hits me all over again. He didn’t just leave practice early. He completely rearranged his game day routine, which I know by now is practically sacred to him.
“Grant, I can’t thank you enough for today. For coming to get me and helping to figure out what was wrong with my car, then taking me to pick up April from school… it was above and beyond anything I could have hoped for.”
He stops in the middle of pulling his keys from his pocket and looks at me with that serious, intense expression that makes my heart do a slow roll in my chest.
“I appreciate the thanks, but it was my pleasure to help out where I could.”
“I just know how important your schedule is, and I’m sorry I messed it up.”
He frowns. “You didn’t mess anything up. When I said I was here for you anytime you need a hand, I meant it.” So quietly that I almost miss it, he adds, “Always.”
I freeze, not sure what else I can say to make him realize how much today meant to me. He isn’t just a good temporary landlord or even just a good friend. There’s something more here, something between us that’s real and deep.
“Mom, can I have a snack?” April’s voice cuts through the silence, startling both of us back to the present moment.
“Something small for now, sweetheart,” I say, pushing all my other thoughts to the side. “How about a banana or an apple for now, and I’ll get dinner started after I change clothes?”
“Okay!”
She skips off toward the kitchen, and when I turn back to Grant, he’s already moving toward the stairs.
“I really do need to change clothes and get to the arena,” he says, but there’s an undercurrent between us, a little frisson inthe air, that tells me he felt that moment too. “Good luck with the reading club information tomorrow.”
“Thanks. And good luck with your game tonight. We’ll be watching.”
He nods and takes the stairs two at a time while I throw myself into my own nightly routine of dinner prep and homework help.
As soon as April sees me, she sets her half-eaten apple aside and starts chattering about the reading club, wondering aloud about what books they might read and discuss, and whether any of the other kids will share her love of adventure stories.
I’m doing my best to pay full attention and stay engaged, but my mind keeps drifting back to Grant and that moment we shared in the truck. The way he looked at me in the foyer. The way he said “always,” like he truly meant it.
I don’t have time to process these thoughts or how I feel about them, so I shove them back down for now.
By the time I’ve gotten April fed, bathed, and tucked into bed with her latest book, I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. The day has been a rollercoaster, from the stress of the meeting at school to the panic of my broken-down car, to the conflicting, confusing feelings that I have for Grant.
I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed, then turn on the TV before pulling the covers up to my chin. I might not have the comfort of knowing Grant is just a few doors down, but at least I can watch him do the thing he loves for a little while before I drift off to sleep.
The Aces game has already started and both teams have scored a point. According to the stats that are scrolling across the bottom of my screen, Grant has made eight saves so far.
Because of course he has. The camera pans to his goal and he looks focused and controlled and completely in charge. It’s hardfor a moment to reconcile that gruff, intimidating athlete with the man who learned to sew just to help with April’s clothes.
I’m not sure his teammates—or even my sister—would believe me if I told them that story, but I know it’s true, and that’s enough. He’s more complex than anyone knows, and has a bigger heart than I ever would have guessed.
And that’s the last thing I think about as I close my eyes.
I wake up with the TV remote still in my hand and the kind of stiffness in my shoulders and neck that comes from lying all night in the same position.
God, I was tired.
I’m still tired, but not as bone-deep exhausted as I was last night, so that’s a plus. Especially since I have to figure out how to get April to school and myself to work in addition to our regular morning routine.
There’s a notification on my phone that the Aces won last night’s game three to one, and that Grant had sixteen saves.
That makes me smile as I roll out of bed and throw a robe on over my pajamas. I still have a half-hour before I need to wake April, which is just enough time to pour a cup of coffee and congratulate Grant on his win last night.
Except as I pad downstairs and into the darkened kitchen, I don’t hear the familiar, muffled noise of weights clanging together or the sports channel on the TV in the basement gym.
