Page 53 of Hard to Take

“She was vulnerable,” Jay says at last. “Hell, I think she still is. She has this idea like if she acts tough enough, it’ll be true.”

“Seems like she’s in a good place. Better than good,” I add without knowing why.

“Maybe.” He cocks his head at me. “You would tell me, right? If she was going through something and you picked up on it.”

Guilt burns at my stomach. “Course I would.”

But as Jay starts his set and I spot him, the weight of the unspoken truth rests on my chest.

It’s heavier than any barbell.

* * *

“Special delivery.” I knock on the door, shifting the wrapped crate with a bow under one arm. “Hey, Grams.”

“Miles, honey.”

“Look who I brought.” I pull Waffles out of a massive designer tote, and my grandmother beams.

“It was Brooke’s idea. And her bag,” I admit, turning it so Grams can see the air holes Brooke cut in one side.

“I watched your game the other night. I’m sorry you lost to LA.” She pets him while we chat. “You shouldn’t have been called for a foul in the fourth. It was a flop.”

“Thanks, Grams.” Her loyalty warms my heart. I’m not here for her praise, but I’ll take it before we get to the topic I came here to broach. “Listen, I want to talk about finding you another place.”

Her lined lips press together. “I don’t need a new place.”

“I’m not trying to change anything you don’t want to change. But it worries me when I’m on the road, thinking you might get hurt or need something and I’m not here. I have a couple options.” I reach into my back pocket for the flyers I tucked there and hold them out.

She waves them away. “Miles, you can’t always be here for me. That’s the way life goes.”

My gut contracts, a wrongness rising up. “But?—”

“I mean it.” Her voice has an edge to it.

I drop the topic and we play Monopoly for a bit, but I’m still frustrated over how to move her.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I glance at it quickly. Brooke. Saying she’s ordering dinner and she’ll get some for me.

I can’t help the way my heart kicks.

“That her?”

Grams’s eager voice has me looking up.

“Oh. Yeah, it’s Brooke.” I text a quick thanks and tuck the phone away. “She wanted to make sure Operation Hidden Waffles was a success.”

“She destroyed that bag to bring him in here? It must have cost over a hundred dollars.”

“Yeah.” My lips twitch. I don’t have the heart to tell her it was probably way more.

“Things must be going well.”

“It’s complicated.” The response comes immediately, but it feels insufficient for the growing need behind my ribs.

When it’s her and me with nothing but sweat and skin, we’re golden. She’s fun and open and honest.

She doesn’t trust relationships, and she has good reasons not to. It’s possible I’m the only one wondering if this could be more.

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