“You deserve to be spoiled.” The words tumble out before I can think to hold them back, but I don’t care. I meant every one.
And now the flush in her cheeks has deepened past that pale pink, but she doesn’t look away. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”
Her light, teasing tone only makes me want to double down until she understands how serious I am.
“No. Not all the ladies. Just you.”
Her eyes widen, and all I can hear over the deafening silence is the tiny catch in her breath as she looks away.
I never meant to say that out loud, but I have a hard time feeling bad about it. I just don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to follow up on my words.
Which is why the old me—the careful, guarded me—would have kept those thoughts to myself, safely locked up in my head where they belong.
“Right. So, uh, dinner.” I clear my throat and turn to open the fridge, then close it again. “How does spaghetti sound? I think I can manage that without poisoning anyone.”
Chapter 17
Heather
Grant’s spaghetti turns out to be surprisingly good. It’s nothing fancy, just noodles and a simple marinara sauce with some garlic bread on the side, but it’s exactly what we all needed after a long day.
It’s not just the food that has me feeling warm and grateful, though, as we sit around his kitchen table.
The gesture itself meant a lot, and not just to me. April is practically glowing as she talks to Grant about everything from her math homework to her theories about why certain hockey teams have better defensive strategies than others.
Far from being shy and awestruck like she was those first couple of nights we spent here, now she’s chattering away like they’ve been friends for years.
“That’s why I think the Aces are so good,” she says, punctuating her words with her fork. “You guys don’t just rely on offense. You actually play defense, which is way more important than most people think.”
Grant nods like he’s sitting down on one of those sports analysis shows. “You’re absolutely right. A lot of fans only pay attention to goals, but the real game is played in our zone.”
“Yes! Exactly!” April is beaming from ear to ear. “Mom, did you hear that? Grant agrees with me that defensive strategy is the most important thing.”
I smile and take another bite of spaghetti, but there’s a strange, conflicted feeling building up inside me as I listen to the two of them talking. On one hand, there’s nothing I love more than seeing April like this. She’s happy and confident and engaged in a way I’ve only seen a handful of times since we moved to Denver. She’s been struggling so much with making friends and feeling like she doesn’t belong, so watching her light up as she talks to Grant gives me all the warm fuzzies I could ever want.
But there’s no denying that a part of me is worried about how attached she’s getting to him. She opens up so easily to him and hangs on every word he says, and while I should have probably expected it—and it’s partly inevitable, with him being a literal sports hero of hers—I wish there was something I could do to temper her feelings and expectations.
Because this isn’t permanent.
No matter how comfortable we’ve all gotten or how much Grant seems to enjoy our company, we’re still only temporary guests in his house. Eventually, I’ll have to find a place of our own and we’ll have to move out. April and I will go on with our lives and Grant will go back to his perfectly organized, precisely scheduled life.
As wonderful and exciting and healthy as it is to have a male figure in her life who listens to her theories about hockey and remembers details about her day, I don’t want her to start thinking of Grant as something more than he is.
And it breaks my heart to imagine how she’s probably going to feel let down and abandoned when we finally do have to leave.
“Grant?” The hopeful tone in April’s voice pulls me back to the conversation. “Do you think I could come watch one of yourpractices sometime? Just to see how you guys train? I’d stay quiet and out of the way so you wouldn’t even know I was there.”
“Sweetheart,” I cut in gently before he can answer. “I’m sure Grant is very busy with his training schedule. Remember that it’s not just practice—that’s his job, so we don’t want to impose.”
But he surprises me by shaking his head. “It’s not an imposition at all.” He looks back to April. “I think I can arrange it as long as your mom is okay with you being there.”
And now, of course, they’re both looking at me. April is breathless and nearly beside herself with anticipation.
“Can I, Mom? Please? Pretty please?”
I want to say yes. Of course I want to say yes, because I live and breathe for the excitement that I can see on her face right now. But I also know that every fun, happy moment they share is going to make it that much harder when we have to leave here.
“We’ll see, sweetheart.”
