Known him to be grumpy and standoffish, but known him all the same.
Gammy goes quiet, and Martin’s arms turn manic. I hold up a hand and pump my palm toward him three times to suggest he cool his fucking jets.
“You got a flat tire in the middle of the night?” Gammy questions shakily. “That doesn’t sound safe, Kylie.”
“The flat tire wasn’t safe, but the guy who changed it was.”I think.“It was no big deal.”
“No big deal? Sounds like a recipe to end up with your face on a missing persons poster to me.”
“Maybe another time,” I say in a gentle tease. “This time, it led me right back to work for another twelve-hour day.”
“Just be careful, Kylie, okay?” She snaps back. “The rest of the world isn’t as benevolent as it seems. There are men out therewho would hurt you. Who would take advantage of your looks and your kindness in ways you don’t like.”
The rest of the world isn’t as benevolent as it seems.
Those are Rook’s same words from last night, making it the second time I’ve heard the unusual warning in twenty-four hours after never hearing it before in my entire life. It’s unsettling, to say the least. My eyes unfocus, and the hair on my arms stands on end.
“Gammy, I promise I’m always careful.”
“That’s what your mother used to say too.”
It’s been years since Gammy has brought something up about my mother or her and my father’s tragic deaths that left me orphaned at a young age. She’s done her best to shield me from the truth—that they were murdered in cold blood—but this is a 180-degree reversal if I’ve ever seen one.
She’s not just mentioning it. She’s using it to emotionally manipulate me.
“Gammy.” My chest tightens. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“I know,” she says softly. “I know it’s not fair, but neither is life, sweetheart. You’re important to me. I love you. And if reminding you of the stakes of this world saves my granddaughter from harm, I’ll do it until I’m blue in the face.”
“I love you too,” I reply, and mean it to my freaking bones. My gammy is the world to me, but I can’t say this call has left me feeling anything other than worse for wear.
I’m tired. Worn thin. Anxious. And now I can add downright terrified to the list.
“You give me a call later this week so we can make plans for Saturday,” she orders. “Don’t back out on me, you hear? I’ll stalk you if I have to.”
“You could tell me the important things now, you know? Break the suspense.”
“No, honey, unfortunately, I can’t,” she responds, not giving a single inch of explanation. “See you Saturday. I’ll make chicken potpie.”
Before I can say anything, the line goes dead, and like a two-for-one special, Martin is now standing directly over my desk.
I’d have loved a moment to muddle through the emotions my grandmother left me with, but evidently, that level of self-care will have to wait.
“Oh, thank God, I thought you’d never get off the phone. I need the Fred Howard return again. Hefoundsome more income in hisotherbank account.” He rolls his eyes. “So now he needs me tofindsome more expenses.”
I snort, and he laughs.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. According to him, I keep a stockpile shoved up my ass.” He sighs. “Whatever. I just need to correct the income, and then you can file. We’ll deal with his upset later.”
“Ten-four. I’ll send it back to you now.”
Martin nods and retreats to his office, and I yawn into my free hand while I wield the mouse in the other. By the time Fred Howard’s business return is finalized and sent to his email—thirty minutes later—Martin and I are the only ones left.
I scream out to announce my departure, and he moans in reply. I don’t bother inquiring on his well-being any further—I’ve got myself to worry about.
It’s dark outside and my brain is fried, and no matter how much I wish I had the energy to go skate, I know with every ounce of my being that carbs and trashy reality TV is the only cure to this level of walking-carcass.
I hop into my Civic and start the engine, rubbing at my hands as the evening cold makes the heat struggle to get going. Giving the old girl a minute to warm up, I pick up my phone out of the cupholder with the urge to scroll, and a message appears on the screen.
