Grace.
His heart stumbled, skipped a beat, then flipped a somersault. No matter how many times he told himself to stop thinking about her, he simply couldn't do it. Her daily motivational and inspirational texts made it impossible.
He couldn't even be upset with her for sending them because they were exactly what he needed to keep going. The pictures she sent him of Lily lifted his spirits more than anything else could. He often caught himself staring at the one of her holding Lily longer than he should, considering he'd broken up with her.
It didn't help that the nurses had brought in some "special deliveries" over the last two weeks that he knew were from Grace, even though his mom denied knowing anything about them. Only Grace would send him licorice and chocolates; the exact brands they shared in the elevator. Then there was the peach lemonade made with fresh peaches. It wasn't quite as good as his mom's, but it tasted great, nonetheless.
She was always on his mind, so much so he heard her voice in the recesses of his mind while he napped, and he could have sworn he’d heard her laughter echoing through the halls more than once.
He'd dumped Grace, so why was she being so thoughtful and giving him gifts?
When he didn't take the boxes from his mom, she set them on his lap. They were heavier than he expected.
"Go on." Matt nudged his shoulder. "Open them."
Aware that his nieces and nephews were now watching him, he forced a smile as he unwrapped the first box. Lifting the lidoff, he found three pairs of pants. The first, a pair of jeans that looked exactly like his favorite pair of worn jeans—the kind it took months to wear in. Below them was a pair of new jeans that still had the tag on them. And on the bottom, a pair of dress slacks.
The sentiment was nice, but didn't Grace realize he wouldn't be able to pull these on and off over his prosthetic? When he finally got it, that was.
Mom must have seen the disappointment on his face, because she scooted her chair closer. "Do you recognize the top pair?"
"They look like my favorite jeans, but?—"
"They are. All of your things—including your truck—arrived last week. So Grace took these jeans to Iris and had her help adapt them."
"Adapt?"
Mom took the jeans from him and laid them across her lap. Then seemingly out of nowhere, she pulled a zipper from the hem up the inside seam of the left pant leg, opening it wide. "It'll give you plenty of room to put on and take off your prosthetic while wearing jeans."
He checked the other pants. They had zippers in the left pant leg too.
"Grace did this for me?" His voice caught on the last word.
He met his mom's gaze, questioning. Why would Grace go to such lengths when he'd pushed her away?
"She's not going anywhere, Damon. She loves you, and she'll stick by your side no matter what, if you let her."
"Open the other gifts," Isabella said.
Damon did so. The second box contained a pair of adapted cowboy boots that had a zipper as well. He didn't even know there was such a thing. The thoughtfulness of the gift brought tears to his eyes.
He lowered his head, pretending to study the boots while he struggled to get control of his emotions. Never riding a horse again was one of the many things he'd mourned over the last few weeks.
"I didn't think I'd ever be able to ride again." His voice was quiet.
"Sounds like you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and do a little research." Matt gave him an encouraging nod. "Losing part of your leg isnotthe end of the world."
Damon was beginning to see that, but he'd lost a lot more than his leg.
Still unable to believe Grace went to so much effort and expense for him, he shot his mom another questioning look.
"You might want to wait until later to open the last gift." Mom gave him a little wink.
Damon had no idea what the last box held but if it choked him up as badly as the first two, he'd rather open it in private.
"We tried to convince Grace to come spend Christmas with us," Maria said, "but she said she didn't want to intrude."
Intrude?
