Page 8 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

Her gaze roamed down my body, and her cheeks flamed when I caught her in the act.

“Come on, darlin’,” I urged, holding out my hand. “Let’s ride.”

Chapter

Three

Sweet but twisted.

—Dixie’s secret thoughts

HOAX

My fucking heart hurt.

My grandfather, the man that I’d looked up to my entire life, was dying.

He’d known it for a while.

I’d been taking him to doctor’s appointments on and off for a year, but today was the first day he’d shared it with us.

The day before Christmas Eve.

He’d called Bayou and I over so he could talk to us about it before the rest of the family descended.

Not that Grandpa didn’t want everyone else to know.

He did want them in the loop, but Bayou, Grandpa and I were the closest.

He’d wanted to digest this information before he let the others know.

He said it was because he needed someone in his corner tomorrow when he let everyone else in on the prognosis.

But realistically, it was because we were always his go-to people.

Pru’s hand slipped into mine, and she squeezed it gently.

She knew how close we were.

Just the thought of one day waking up and no longer having my grandfather here anymore sent panic through my heart.

He’d been my one constant since my mom committed suicide when I was fourteen.

It’d been me and him—and eventually Bayou—against the world.

To know that he only had weeks, at max, to live.

That sent my heart into a tailspin.

My babies would no longer have their ‘Pop-pop.’

I couldn’t wake up on a Saturday morning and ask the old man if he wanted to go out to breakfast with me.

I’d one day go to a damn club party, and I wouldn’t see him there telling jokes.

“What about this one, Grandpa?” Pru asked, pointing at yet another ornament.

“That one we’ve had since our first wedding anniversary…”

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