Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
The door creaks open and Jory pokes his head around the corner. His eyes are wary and that sends a shot of bile up my throat.
“Markie? Can you come here for a minute?” he asks.
“Sure.” My voice is much calmer than I feel. “I’ll be right back, Gus. Remember, you have strategies to help you break this down and solve it. And once you’re done up to”—I peer over his shoulder—“exercise eighteen, you won’t have to look at it or think about it again until Monday.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
I try not to jog to the door.
The air outside is thick and humid, making it hard to breathe. Rain splatters the ground and pounds on the roof. Water droplets splash onto the porch, making everything damp.
It feels an awful lot like foreshadowing to me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“That was Deidre,” he says, running a hand down his face. “Her dad had a massive heart attack this morning and they don’t think he’s going to make it.”
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.”
My thoughts go to Gus and what this will do to him. I don’t know much about his relationship with his grandparents, so whether this will crush him or be manageable, I don’t know. Either way, it’s not going to be fun.
“I have to tell Gus.” He drops his hand and sighs. “Deidre said she isn’t steady enough to do it right now, and I should handle it however I think is best.”
“Yeah. I can imagine that she has a lot on her plate.”
“I don’t know what is best,” Jory says, eyes wide. “I don’t know how to tell a kid that his grandpa is dying.”
I force a swallow. “I don’t think there’s an easy way to do it, Jory. It sucks from every angle.”
He licks his lips, and I can tell he’s struggling with something.
“Jory?”
He looks at the ceiling before looking at me again. “They gave Ernie twenty-four to forty-eight hours to live.”
Oh. Our eyes lock as my heart sinks because I realize what he’s saying. “I see.”
“Ernie lives in Ohio, which is about an eight-hour drive from here. And if Gus wants to tell him goodbye …”
“Then you’ll need to leave now.”
He nods carefully, watching my reaction.
I turn away from him and rub my forehead.
This will be the first time I’ve ever had to forfeit the tournament—and that sucks. In a vacuum, it would be devastating, but strangely, it’s not. The pain in my heart has nothing to do with pickleball. It has everything to do with Jory’s little boy and giving him the opportunity that Mira and I never had. He can say goodbye to his grandfather.
I blow out a breath that seems to start in my toes. “You probably need to tell Gus and then get on the road. If you can get out of town by seven, you’ll make it around three or four in the morning depending on how many times you stop.”
“And you know what that means, right?”
I nod, forcing a swallow. “Yeah. That means you won’t be here tomorrow.”
He reaches for me, pulling me into a hug that feels a lot like a man who loves me.
I cling to him, breathing him in, and absorbing as much of his warmth as I can. Because despite the heat of the evening, I’m afraid that when he leaves, I’ll be very, very cold.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I’m letting you down and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You can’t. This is just what it is, Jory.” I kiss his sternum and then pull away. “But you need to tell Gus and then head north. You can’t waste time.”
He sighs.
If I could kiss the pain off his face, I would. If I could make it easier, I’d do it in a second. Because I love this man. And that’s what you do for those you love.
We lace our fingers together and make our way into the living room. I sit on the sofa where Jory had been, and he takes my spot beside Gus.
“Hey, buddy. I need to talk to you for a second,” Jory says.
I grab the remote and turn the television off.
“I wasn’t watching it,” Gus says, pretending to do his packet. “I’ve been working.”
Jory touches his shoulder. “I mean it, Gus. Stop and look at me.”
Gus drops his pencil and scoots around, facing his dad.
“Your mom just called,” Jory says. “And your papa Ernie had a heart attack this morning and he’s not doing well. They don’t think he’ll live for much longer.”
Gus pulls away, staring off into space as if he’s processing the words are too difficult. My chest tightens and my breathing halts. I watch this little boy try to cope with the idea of losing his grandpa … and it’s heartbreaking.
His head begins to shake back and forth. “No.”