Page 32 of On One Condition

I have to go.

I have to be there for the only people who have ever been there for me.

What I didn’t know when I walked away from that world of opportunity—of utter happiness—was that I’d never get it back.

CHAPTER TEN

Asher

“Gran,” I warn playfully.

“What?” she asks innocently, her speech slurred, while hiding my checker piece she just palmed from the board.

She gives me that soft, crooked smile that I’ve been on the receiving end of my whole life. It’s full of love and warmth, even though I know she’s struggling to simply endure most days. And yet, like the selfless soul she’s always been, she’s still trying to make me smile and feel her love.

I cling to the sight of it. Today’s a good day. She’s lucid and seems at peace.

Her first stroke paralyzed her left side completely, and it took over eighteen months to recover from. Five years later, her second affected her memory and added some nerve damage more than anything. And her third one, four months ago, left her struggling to make decisions and bound her to a wheelchair.

The decision to move her to the assisted living facility was agonizing. She and Pop hadn’t been apart for almost sixty years, and there I was telling him I could no longer provide her medical needs. That I’d failed him. And that it was finally time to get her the help she needed.

His heart broke more than mine that first day we left her here, but he put on a brave face for me. I heard his soft crying through the bedroom door every night for the next few weeks.

I made the decision. I told him it was time. And then he died of a broken heart, alone, and without the love of his life by his side.

The guilt I feel over it steals my breath most days.

And the times I visit Gran when the staff tells me she’s struggling more and more each day, that her mental capacity is declining faster, I wonder if it’s her broken heart that is winning the battle or her worn-down body. Those days? Those are the ones when I pull out of the parking lot, park a mile down the road, and sob till I can’t cry anymore because I feel like my decision was the catalyst for all of this.

It’s a rarity that she feels good enough to get out of her bed and be wheeled to the rec room. The staff knows on those days to call me regardless of the time because I’ll be there as soon as possible. That I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

That call came today.

Her smile and mischief are the only things I need.

“You’re going to beat me handily enough. I assure you, you don’t have to cheat,” I say, moving my black checker from one square to another for my turn. “Your turn.”

But when I look up, Gran is looking across the room, fixated on something. Expression blank, eyes astute. For the briefest of seconds, I panic, worrying that something is wrong with her.

I follow her gaze and freeze.

What is he doing here?

Ledger is standing on the far side of the recreation room. He’s huddled in a conversation with another woman in a sharp business suit and the director of the facility. They are discussing something in hushed voices, I assume to avoid disturbing the residents.

I watch for a few moments, as does Gran, until hands are shaken between the trio as if the meeting is over. Ledger’s laugh carries over to where we sit and just before he walks out, he turns to scan the room again.

The surprise when he sees me is exactly how I felt when I saw him standing there.

He gives me a strange look—surprise, confusion, I don’t know—before he says something to the people he’s standing with and makes his way across the room.

“Well, look at this handsome thing walking our way,” Gran murmurs as she attempts to sit up straighter when physically she can’t. “Tall. Handsome. Those shoulders. I do believe he is just your type.”

I cough to cover my laugh. Jesus. It seems Gran is friends with Fate. And who knew a handsome man could make her the most lucid she’s been in weeks?

“He’s not my type,” I mutter, hating that it’s hard to pull my eyes away from him.

I try.