Maybe it was naïve, but he had genuinely believed Sarah would have been happy for him. Grateful he’d been presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this. Why wouldn’t she support him in something that could elevate his career? To him, it made little sense.
Half a lukewarm beer and a million racing thoughts later, he heard a faint knock at his front door. Tahoe’s ears perked up immediately, and this time, the dog was successful in knocking the beer bottle from Lance’s loose grip. The liquid spilled down the front of his flannel shirt, soiling it completely.
He wanted to curse the dog’s inadvertent actions, but he knew Tahoe wasn’t truly to blame. Lance was hanging on by a precarious thread, one that threatened to snap at any moment.
Another knock.
Tahoe was already at the door, scratching his paw against the frame.
“Coming!” Lance shouted as he lowered the foot of the recliner back into position and slowly made his way to the front of the cabin. He wasn’t expecting company, and for the briefest moment, he hoped it would be Sarah on the other side of the threshold, even though he knew she was in the middle of dinner with her new author friends.
Still, he hadn’t expected to see Nana Jo, all bundled in her cognac leather jacket, gray wool scarf, and cowboy hat tucked low over her ears.
“How long did you plan to leave this old lady out here, shivering on the porch?” She swatted her grandson across his chest with the empty gloves she’d just tugged from her fingers. “I was about to turn into an ice sculpture!”
“Sorry, Nana.” He pressed a kiss to his grandmother’s cheek before lumbering back to let her through.
She looked squarely at his leg.
No sense in pretending he wasn’t in pain. His nana knew him better than anyone.
“This is why you need to give me a key.” This time, instead of thwacking him with her gloves, she whipped her scarf in his direction. “So you don’t have to get up whenever I come to the door.”
“In fairness, I’m usually the one visiting you.” He didn’t need to keep up appearances with Nana Jo. He dropped back into the recliner with a loud grunt and popped open the footrest.
“You been icing that thing?” She motioned toward his knee before striding over to prop it up with a small pillow tucked under the crook of it. “Taking anything for it?”
“Just this.” His fingers circled the neck of the now empty bottle.
“And I see you’re wearing more of it than you’ve probably consumed.”
It was a fair assessment.
“Lancelot, you’re a mess.”
“If you’re looking for an argument, you won’t get one out of me.” He knew he wasn’t his best self at the moment. No sense in disguising it.
“What happened?” she asked over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen just off the family room. If she was fetching him another beer, he would have to decline. His head was already spinning as it was.
“I messed things up with Sarah.”
He didn’t think Nana Jo meant to slam the refrigerator door, but the contents within it rattled and clanged as it slipped shut. “You did not.”
His head hurt. He rubbed his temples. “I did. Big time.”
Thankfully, it wasn’t a bottle of beer, but a can of cherry soda that she’d retrieved. One for him and one for herself, just like they used to do back when he was a kid and cherry soda was their shared treat after a long day of ranch activities.
She pulled back the tab and the fizzy drink hissed from the release of carbonation. “Nothing you won’t be able to fix, I’m sure.”
“Yeah. Not so sure about that.” He took a sip from the can, immediately feeling the burn of bubbles as the cold drink went down. “I think I really hurt her, Nana.”
“What did you do?”
What had he done, other than tell her about an opportunity that he’d felt excited about at the time? He still didn’t see the harm in it, couldn’t understand the swift turn their conversation took immediately following his disclosure. Where had he gone so wrong?
“One of the writers from her retreat asked if I’d join him on an expedition to the Alps,” he said.
Nana Jo nodded. She perched on the edge of a nearby footstool, mindlessly rubbing Tahoe’s big ears as she listened intently to her grandson. “You’ve been before.”
