“Texas. Corpus Christi,” Adam says. “I love the autumn colors, but I was most excited about seeing snow. I remember asking Grant what a typical winter is like.”
I laugh. “Did he tell you there’s no such thing?”
“It has been a little unpredictable so far.” Adam strokes his chin. “Every season is, for that matter.”
“It’s general chaos when it snows in Kentucky, even though it happens every single year,” I say. “Multiple times. Lots of towns don’t have the resources to properly deal with it. And good luck if it’s an ice storm—those are brutal. We don’t have snow tires or enough plows. We in healthcare just sort of go out and hope for the best.”
Adam chuckles. “I gathered that.”
“It’s super fun when you live in the mountains like we did,” Grant says. He takes his eyes off me for a moment, only to return them. “Lots of hills to go sledding on, but it’s treacherous for drivers. The roads are winding and steep.”
“Some of us had to use garbage can lids, Oscar the grouch style,” I say. “We aren’t all made of money.”
Grant finally turns his attention to Adam, who is watchingour exchange with avid interest. “It’s almost always small amounts though. Like last year. Usually not more than five inches at one time.”
“Only five inches, you say?” I lift my eyebrows.
“Jesus Christ, Kendall,” Grant says, burying his face in his hands, but Adam laughs. I can tell we would get along.
“It was right there,” I say. You can’t say ‘don’t worry, it’s not more than five inches’ and expect me not to make a penis joke.”
Adam’s still smiling at me. His gaze flicks back and forth between me and Grant. “I thought there was a lot of dislike here? Seems like you two are getting along now.”
I shrug, even though a wave of anxiety crests in my stomach. “He’s not as bad as he once was.”
“Good to know.” Adam ponders me for a moment, then stands. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He grabs his wallet from the counter and says his goodbyes.
When it’s just the two of us, Grant sits on the couch. The silence thickens around us.
“He seems nice,” I say.
“Yeah.” Grant fiddles with a stack of papers on his coffee table. “I don’t really need a roommate, but it’s been good. Having someone around, I mean.”
My gaze sharpens on him. “Were you lonely? I always thought you were surrounded by friends. That’s how it looked, anyway.”
“Well, it might not surprise you to know that I wasn’t very happy even when I had a lot of friends around me. Not back then, anyway.” His nostrils flare with his breath. “Want to hear something sad?”
“Only if it doesn’t make me feel sorry for you.”
“I’m not sure my high school buddies even liked me,” he says. “I had some genuine friendships in college and med school, but we’re kinda spread out now.”
“In that case, Iamsorry,” I tell him, and I mean it. Thefriends I’ve had have always been genuine. It makes me sad for him that he didn’t feel that way when we were kids.
He waves that off. “I’m okay. I’d rather have a few close friends than a bunch of fake ones.” His fingers drum on the couch cushion. I watch as he moves them, one by one, imagining them on my skin. “And purpose. That helps too.”
I lean forward and prop my chin on my fist. We’re at angles to each other, but I try to catch his eye. “Yeah? What is it that’s driving you?”
He sits back and rubs his hands along his thighs. “I thought it was just being a surgeon. Enjoying life, like we talked about.” He swallows before he looks at me. “Hearing you talk about your passions makes me want to do something noble. To be something better.”
My heart twists. “It’s okay to just be an orthopedic surgeon.”
“Yeah, I know. But I want to make some kind of impact.”
“I understand that.” I trace my finger along the seam of the chair. “Even when I wanted to be a famous singer, I still hoped to do some good in the world.”
Grant smiles. “It’s too bad you let go of that dream.”
“Nah.” I grin back at him. “I can have the same aesthetic and be in medicine instead. Big boobs, big voice, big heart.”
