Page 13 of Bound

Only…

I can’t seem to find one.

Even though I’m surrounded by men on a daily basis.

Jackson in tiny boxer briefs. Jackson carrying my bag. Jackson touching my chin. Jackson saying I’m a good person.

Jackson jumping back when he steadied me. Jackson scowling at me. Jackson finding out that I?—

“Claire?”

Shaking myself, I plaster a smile on my face as I replay the conversation and try to remember what the hell she asked me. “Work’s going great,” I manage to supply. “Luc is really happy with what I’ve been doing, and the guys are awesome as always.”

Gran lifts her mug in salute. “I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to get that place into shape. Smartest thing Luc ever did was to promote you.”

Truthfully, it hadn’t taken much. The Breakers have had my back from the beginning, and they’ve given me way more than I’ve given them. Yeah, they’re a professional hockey team in the business of winning hockey games, but they are a family first. And they’ve been that way for far longer than I’ve been around. I just…

Found my place, knew it was a good one, and did everything I could to stick around.

From intern to social media consultant to assistant to the GM.

I’ll take that climb.

And along the way, I finessed the small details, learned all I could about what made the guys tick and how I could help them do well on the ice, how I could adjust all of the moving parts so that the Breakers are the best they can be.

I’ve tried to make myself indispensable.

But they don’t need me, not really. They were fine without me, would be fine if I left.

That’s just facts.

But not facts I share with Gran.

I won’t add to her worry about me.

She’s been doing far too much of that for far long enough.

Taking care of me, stepping up when she didn’t have to, making sure I was fed and clothed and safe…and had birthdays and Christmases and summer barbecues and all the things I missed out on while growing up with deadbeats for parents.

I’ve long been able to stand on my own two feet, but I can see the strain those years wrought on her face, in the deep lines around her mouth and eyes, the dark circles beneath her lower lashes, the paleness of her skin. She’s tired, and even though I’ve barely been here an hour and we’ve just sat and chatted, these visits are hard on her.

Everything is hard on her nowadays.

Because she is old and though she’s a warrior who’s beaten cancer twice, the battles sucked a lot of life out of her. She’s still my Gran, of course. Just…the spritely Energizer Bunny who played volleyball with me in the back yard when I wanted to try out for the team in junior high, who never met a midnight showing for a movie premiere she didn’t love is…changed.

Naps and resting are broken up by short bursts of activity—walking around the block, bringing in packages, reheating the meals I cook for her, gabbing with her girlfriends on the phone, sitting in her chair across from me and talking about our days.

My Gran…but not.

It doesn’t matter.

She stepped up to take care of me. There’s no way I’m not going to do the same for her.

That’s that.

“Tell me how Junie’s doing,” I order softly as I settle back with my own tea. “Did she get the bingo debacle sorted?”

Bingo is a Big Deal in Gran’s circle—yup, with those capital letters—and the debacle with her best friend, June, involved a faulty mic, several intensely frustrated Boomers, and a slice of cake the local pet charity sells at their weekly Bingo Nights getting crushed into someone’s face.

---