Page 5 of I'll Carry You

Every. Single. Time.

She felt self-confident that she was pretty enough still. But once they saw Colby, most of them took off running. Thank goodness Brad didn’t seem to mind that she was a mom. She’d even talked about introducing him to Colby soon.

The cashier thrust a receipt out the window, followed by a greasy bag of food. Food that this guy must not eat often, with a physique like his. Fate had apparently sent him here to seal her humiliation.

Hot Guy took the bag of food. He held out the bag, and Jen took it from him, avoiding eye contact with him. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She should be more gracious. But then again, she hadn’t asked him for this. Rescuing her only brought more attention to her troubles among other people in line.

Any enthusiasm the guy had about helping her seemed to vanish with her response. He handed Colby’s drink to her, then smoothly tapped the window frame, still holding the chocolate milkshake she’d ordered for herself. “Next time, check your wallet before you hold up the line. Cute kid, by the way.”

Her jaw dropped as he took a sip of the milkshake and sauntered back to his car with it.

Jackass.

She wanted to run back there and dump the milkshake in his lap. Instead, she drove off, hands shaking.

ChapterThree

Jason steppedout onto the driveway and slammed the car door shut. He crumpled the fast-food bag in his hand and walked toward the side of the house. Mildred still kept the trash cans there. Dumping his trash, he wrinkled his nose at the fetid scent and held his hand over his stomach.

He hadn’t had a milkshake in years. Spite hadn’t been a good enough reason to start now. Still, the outrage on that bitch’s face had been enough to make it worth it.

Of all the people to run into. The chances seemed astronomical.

Then again, there weren’t any other fast-food places in all of Brandywood, it seemed. And he’d been driving for nine hours. He’d only stopped for gas, and he’d been starving.

A shot rang out.

Jason dove behind the trash can, a terrible shelter, but the first one he saw.

It reeked.

“Put your hands up and stand up, slowly.” Mildred’s voice was a short distance from him.

He peeked out from behind the trash can.God, she didn’t age, did she?She didn’t look a day older than when he’d last seen her, even though he knew she had to be creeping on eighty. Her hair was bright, curly white, but it had been for as long as he remembered.

Jason held his hands up in front of him and stood. She held a shotgun in her hands and stared down the barrel. “Is that any way to greet your grandson?”

Mildred didn’t lower the gun. “If it’s the grandson I think it is, then yes.”

Then she was still mad at him. Good. Better to get these things out in the open immediately. He threw his shoulders back with confidence. “As it so happens, I’m your only grandson.”

The gun lowered slowly, Mildred’s creased face paling. A wave of sadness crossed her face, and she marched toward him. She was a foot away when Jason realized what was happening, but by then, it was too late to grab her wrist. Her slap rang into the air, stinging his cheek. Five-foot-nothing, she stared at him with blazing blue eyes. “You son of a bitch. That’s how you tell me Kevin’s dead?”

“I didn’t think you would care.” Jason held his cheek. For an old lady, his grandmother could still strike hard.

Now she laughed without a trace of humor. “Ah, of course. Right. I don’t care. Because it was me that disowned my daughter. Me, who refused to allow me admittance to her hospital room. Me, who sent back Christmas cards and birthday presents.” Mildred scowled, her finger crooking as she spoke. “You sorry bastard. Go back to the hellhole you came from and leave me alone. I’ve spent the past thirty-five years trying to piece my life back together since your father took my only daughter away from me and your bastard grandfather made sure she’d never come back.”

She turned and started back toward the house, shotgun tucked under her elbow.

“Look, the old bastard is dead.” Jason followed her up the walkway to her split-level brick home. Thank goodness she lived in the middle of the woods. The gunshot would have attracted neighbors otherwise.

Mildred stopped at the door, glaring at him. “Well, you might want to watch out. It sounds like Cavanaugh men are dropping like flies.”

She attempted to slam the door in his face, but he stopped it with his foot. Ouch. He placed a hand on the doorknob. “Come on, Mildred. I just want to talk about Kevin. I understand he might have spent some time with you before he died.”

The sadness returned to her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tough old bird. It was what his grandfather had always called her. He hadn’t understood the term as a kid. When she showed up unexpectedly at his mother’s funeral fifteen years ago, his grandfather had put him in charge of getting rid of her. Old man Cavanaugh had called her something different then.Meddling bitch, if Jason remembered correctly.

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