I take another bite of bread. Only Mrs. Kinkaid can draw me out like she does. There’s something about sharing the losses we share that gives her elite access. I don’t know whenor how I granted it, but she definitely has privileges not even the guys on shift have been granted.
I clear a soft lump in my throat, stand and walk to the fridge, helping myself to a glass of milk.
“I’m transferring to Knoxville in the fall,” Tate says. “They’ve got a specialty in Logistics and Supply Chain Management.”
“That’s awesome, Tate,” I say.
“My grocery bill thanks you,” Mrs. Kinkaid says, but there’s a wistfulness to her voice that tells everyone in the room she’s going to miss him being so close to home.
“I’ll come home to visit regularly. Knoxville’s only an hour further than Nashville is,” Tate says. “Don’t get too comfortable with your bank account.”
Mrs. Kinkaid walks over and places a kiss on Tate’s cheek. “Okay, then. I won’t.”
I stick around their house for an hour, not saying much, just being present. I don’t know what I do for them—maybe I partially fill the gaping hole Zach left. Maybe I’m just a poor reminder of our loss. I know I’m welcome. And I won’t let a week go by without showing up here at some point.
As I’m leaving, I pull a check out of my pocket. “Take this. To cover Tate’s meals.”
“Greyson, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times. I don’t want your money. Just having you come by is gift enough.”
“I make plenty of money at the station. I don’t have anyone to spend it on besides myself. Please take it.”
“You not having anyone is no one’s fault but your own. Keep the money and take a woman on a date.”
My face cringes at the thought and Mrs. Kinkaid reaches up and runs her thumb across the crease in my brow. Her touch is warm and gentle.
“It’s not all that bad,” she says. “You might even have fun.”
“I have fun. I hike the woods by my house. I fight fires. I speak at the elementary school on Local Hero Day. My life is at capacity for fun.”
“Suit yourself,” she says.
Her expression makes me say something I’ll regret. “I’ll go on a date. Someday.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. You know Vanessa’s always had her eye on you.”
“I might go on a date. It won’t be with her.”
Mrs. Kinkaid chuckles. “Fine. Fine. I won’t play matchmaker.”
She steps in and wraps her arms around me. I hold her close, trying to make up for things I can’t ever compensate her for.
“I love you, Greyson. Just like you’re my own.”
“I know,” I say. “I love you too.”
The smile she gives me is one tinged with tears. She dabs at one corner of her eye and I slip the check into her hand as she lowers it.
“Oh, alright,” she says. “You stubborn, stubborn man.”
“Best compliment I’ve gotten all day,” I say, smiling at her and opening the door to leave.
“Bye, Greyson!” Tate shouts from the other room.
“Call me if you need anything, Tate,” I shout back.
“I will.”
Sometimes he does. On the rare occasion, my cell will ring and it’s Tate, asking for advice he’d get from an older brother, or on the even rarer occasion, telling me some good news about something he accomplished.
