Page 48 of In This Moment

Graham didn’t think anything would make it better. To know someone he cared about was hurting, and not be able to do a damn thing about it?

Granted, the people around this table were her friends. She’d known them her entire life. She trusted them. Graham had just popped into her orbit. But he really, really wished someone, especially Rebecca, had dropped this bomb sooner. He sure as hell wouldn’t have let her haul boxes to and from the attic space above the newsroom or climb to decorate the front window or, hell, even cut her own grass. Did she need to drop to part-time?

Someone behind the bar shouted Forest’s name.

“That’s our food.” He stood and disappeared into the crowd.

Moments later, Scarlett and Rebecca returned with a pitcher of beer. Graham shot to his feet and abruptly took the tray from her, setting it on the table.

“Thanks.” Rebecca tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, staring at him like he’d sprouted two heads. “You okay?”

“Yep.” But she wasn’t. She was in pain. Unable to sit still, he told the group he was going to help Forest, and did just that.

After a few minutes, the others dug into their fish and fries, while he stared at his basket. He wasn’t certain he could stomach food, never mind something heavily fried.

He watched her instead with freshly opened eyes. Every nuance and tick. But, no. She seemed precisely the same as always. Eating. Laughing. Carrying on conversation. Reminiscing. Sipping her cola because she’d taken a pain pill and couldn’t drink beer…

Swear to all that was holy, he might lose his shit all over the bar before he ever got the chance to talk to her alone.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Dorothy nudged her half-eaten basket aside, staring at Rebecca. “Are you ready for that, though?”

Ready for what? He’d been too focused on his thoughts to know what they’d discussed.

“I think so, yes.” Rebecca raised her arms over her head to stretch. “It’s just… I don’t know. On one hand, it’s Gammy’s house. A place of comfort. But on the other, it’s Gammy’s house and everywhere I look is a reminder she’s gone.”

“I stand by my comment.” Scarlett raised her palm. “Do some rearranging, repainting, and make it yours. You can keep mementos and personal things, but donate the rest. It really helped me after Miss Maureen died and I inherited the plantation.”

Graham frowned. “Who’s Miss Maureen?”

“My grandmother.” Scarlett rolled her eyes. “She hated the reminder of her age and insisted everyone call her by her name.”

Interesting.

Aden set his elbows on the table and leaned on them. “Loath as I am to admit it, she might be onto something, blondie. I’m free tomorrow if you want help.”

A chorus of me-too sang from the table occupants, Graham included. If he’d caught on correctly, Rebecca was uncomfortable staying at her grandmother’s house. Unable to move on, caught up in nostalgia, yet needing to cross that bridge. Grief was a terrible thing. If he could help, he’d volunteer a thousand times.

“You guys really wouldn’t mind?” Unshed tears welled in her eyes, and it was like a dagger to chest.

“Girl, please.” Scarlett flipped her long cocoa locks over her shoulder. “If it involves decorating, I’m there.”

Aden snorted.

“I don’t know jack about that, but I can wield a paintbrush.” Forest shrugged. “Or move heavy objects.”

She gave a watery laugh that twisted the knife in Graham’s ribs. “Thank you so much.”

The women discussed a sleepover at Rebecca’s tonight to get a start on cleaning out Mavis’s things and for moral support, dashing his hopes of talking to her alone later. Dorothy, Scarlett, and Aden had driven themselves to the bar. Graham had caught a ride with Forest. Perhaps…

“Would you mind giving me a lift home?”

Setting her chin in her palm, Rebecca smiled. “I don’t know. It’s out of my way going that whole extra driveway.”

Smartass. Even her sarcasm was sexy.

They divvied the tab, paid, and headed toward their cars.

Once on the road, while she followed Scarlett and Dorothy to her house, he managed to make it a whopping five seconds in the passenger seat before unleashing a tyranny of questions.

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