“Saturday,” I say, like it’s already decided. “I’ve got the girls.”
“Ty, that’s a lot. You’ve got so much on your plate right now, too.” Her reaction is immediate. “No. You don’t have to do that. You really don’t.”
I can see it—the instinct. The reflex to not lean on anyone, not to ask.
“It’s okay,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I can handle it. It’s a group of girls. I already coach them.”
“That’s not the same,” she insists, shaking her head.
“I’ll figure it out,” I cut in gently. “We’ll talk about jewelry. Or I’ll let them talk and pretend I know what’s happening.” A small shrug. “It’ll be fine. You need to be here. With her.”
She opens her mouth. “No, I—” I can see she wants toprotest, to tell me to not worry. Finally, her shoulders drop just slightly, the fight easing out of her.
“Okay,” she says, almost like she’s surprising herself. “Fine. Yes. Please.”
I nod once. Done.
Relief flickers across her face, followed immediately by another worry, which could be real or invisible; either way, I want to take some of her burden.
“It’s fine,” I say, steady. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Vivian looks at me, searching, like she’s trying to figure out how I’m so certain.
“It really is okay,” I repeat. “I’ve got you.”
She exhales, long and shaky, and leans into me again, her head resting lightly against my shoulder this time, and I let her. I’d love to curl up in a dark room with headphones on and take a nap, but that’s no good to her, is it?
Because right now—this is what she needs.
CHAPTER 23
VIVIAN
The room has that steady, mechanical beat to it, in the way hospitals do. Soft beeps. Air shifting through vents. The quiet rhythm of machines doing their job.
I sit beside my grandmother’s bed, fingers wrapped loosely around hers, careful of the IV taped to the back of her hand. Her skin is warm. Warm is good. Breathing is steady.
The doctor said she’s going to get better, and I’m holding on to that like it’s the only thing that matters.
She stirs slightly, her eyes opening just enough to find me.
“There you are,” she murmurs, her voice thin but familiar.
“I’m here,” I whisper, leaning closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A smile touches her mouth—small, but real as her fingers tighten around mine, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“I’m so glad I have you,” she adds. “I’m very lucky.”
“Shhh, you’re being overly sentimental.” I shake my head immediately, ignoring the tightness in my throat. “You need to be quiet. You’re supposed to be resting.”
She gives me a look and crosses her eyes. So much for a chill recuperation.
“I can rest when I’m dead. I can’t believe you’re not at the store,” she says, teasing.
“The store is closed until further notice,” I respond. “So, get better soon or no income.”
“I see you, you know.” She looks at me with a twinkle in her eye. “I see all the things you’re doing with the store, honey,” she says, ignoring my words completely, reaching out to pat my hand. “I feel like it’s become so much more. And life—” She pauses, a cough catching her off guard. She catches her breath before continuing, “Life is so much more than just that store. More than just that space.”
