Page 8 of Hard to Break

If he knows what’s good for him in that preppy head, he won’t be back.

I force myself to relax and skim her shoulder, down her arm, across her stomach where her top has ridden up. “Big day today.”

Brooke’s eyes fly open. “Grams.”

She’s awake and already trying to shift out of bed. I drag her back.

“What’s wrong?” Brooke asks, turning to face me. “I mean, except for the all-star game and Grams and the shittiest blast from my past showing up at your work.”

My hands lace behind her neck, playing with the hair at her nape.

Her lashes lower to half-mast, the light peeking through the curtains shining on her golden skin, and I remind myself how fucking lucky I am to be with her, touching her, existing in her damned orbit.

And that’s why I don’t say it. If I’m pissed off over it, I can only imagine how livid she’d be.

Because I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this girl, and now that I have her—sort of, almost, or so I tell myself since shesleeps in my bed, teaches my dog tricks, and carefully curates the metric ton of her designer shoes in my closet—I can’t bring myself to toss those words on the pile of everything else burning in my life right now.

Everything bad is outside the walls of this room.

I grin. “Except for those? Nothing.”

“Damn. Is that an echo?”I turn around in Grams’s new living room, extending my arms. “This place is big enough you’ll be hostingBridgertonballs every weekend.”

Grams laughs. “That’s one way to make friends.”

It’s rewarding to see her smiling on move-in day because it’s taken a ton of work to get here. Visiting different places, convincing her it was the right idea, going back and forth with my accountant to ensure there would be enough to cover everything she’d need today and always.

This retirement home is ten minutes farther away than the last one, but I’ll sleep better knowing about the round-the-clock care and other safety features they reminded me of when I went in to sign the contracts.

“If you need help with your hair for these soirées, let me know. I’ve got a good hand with feathers.” Brooke glances over from where she’s arranging Grams’s photos on a shelf.

“Feathers, huh?” I murmur near Brooke’s ear.

She laughs, but I’m already making a mental note to order one of everything from Victoria’s Secret.

“Well? What do you think?” I ask Grams as she walks around her new place.

Her smile has faded. Hopefully, it’s just tiredness setting in after a busy day. She takes in the bedroom and bathroom, bothdecorated in her favorite colors and complete with plenty of handrails to help avoid falls like the one that had her in a cast for weeks.

At least the cast has finally come off.

“Where are my games?” Grams asks.

“I put them in the coffee table drawer.” I motion that way.

“Oh.”

Brooke looks between us. “If we slide this over here…” She rearranges immediately, retrieving Monopoly, plus Clue and Life, and carrying them to the shelf. “That way you can see them.”

Relief softens Grams’s features.

We finish organizing things before walking Grams down to dinner. It’s not even five, but they eat early at these places.

“Don’t charm them all at once,” I warn. “Or people will start doing crazy things for one of those ball invites.”

“I’ll do my best.” She laughs, her eyes getting damp at the corners. “I’m lucky to have such a kind grandson. I’m so proud of you, Miles. The boy you were and the man you’ve become.”

Shit. She’s going to make me cry too. After all she’s done for me, no other accolade can measure up to knowing Grams admires and respects me.

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