“Wow. I don’t know why I just told you that. Usually, I save my trauma-dumping for Dog-Jason.”
I chuckle and reach for her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I honestly don’t mind. Every family’s got a story, you know?”
She nods, but I can feel her retreat just a little, like she’s worried she’s said too much. I file it away—not the story itself, but the instinct, that need to protect herself.
So I change course.
“Meemaw, huh? That sounds like a fun grandma name.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
The smile that spreads across her face is easy, unguarded. It’s affection mixed with tolerance—the kind you only have for someone who raised you and drove you crazy in equal measure.
It makes something warm bloom low in my belly.
“Yeah?” I lean against the counter, watching her. “Tell me about her. Uh… if I’m not being too nosy.”
“I don’t mind,” she says, lips twitching. “But you might regret asking.”
“Well, now I definitely need to know. But first, sauté the vegetables while I throw in some seasoning.”
She moves without hesitation, confident now. The way she settles into the space, so relaxed and sure, does something tome. I’d helped give her that, and that made me feel a little better about the lie.
“So,” I say casually. “Spill the tea on Meemaw.”
She stirs, brow furrowing as she thinks. “Okay. If Meemaw is in the passenger seat, she always reclines it so far back she might as well be in the backseat.”
I snort. “Has she ever said why?”
“Oh yeah. She says it’s the safest way to travel.” Violet smiles to herself. “And she’s not wrong. When I had my accident, I was taking Meemaw to her checkup after her hip operation. She walked away without a scratch.”
My chest tightens at the wordaccident, but I don’t touch it. Not yet. Not ever, unless she opens that door.
“At least,” Violet continues, “when I picture her now, I still see her reclined in the seat with her floppy hat and sunglasses, like she was cruising Route 66 instead of going to a doctor’s appointment.”
I grin as I picture it. “Meemaw had a hip replacement, huh?”
She gasps. “Do not let her hear you say that. She’ll skin you alive.”
I hiss out a laugh. “Noted.”
“She insists it was just a minor hip operation because they only removed a small bone chip.”
“That still sounds pretty miserable,” I mutter, adding stock to the pan. “How the hell did she end up with a piece of bone floating around in her hip?”
“If you ask Meemaw, it happened on the ranch when she was a girl. She was trying to show up some boys, and her horse got spooked by a dog.”
“Poor dog.”
She snorts. “She never forgave it.”
“Seems like she’d be better off blaming the horse.”
“She was just salty she fell off in front of the boys she was trying to impress.”
I turn off the heat, and a comfortable silence settles over the kitchen. Violet leans back against the counter, loose and happy, like she’s forgotten to be careful for a minute.
I don’t want the moment to end.
