Page 3 of Griz's Edge

Regardless, it doesn’t matter with being here since I didn’t intend to have my name known as it was.

It also means not giving my name and number out to men, no matter how sinfully sexy they are.

Sighing, I drive to my grandmother’s house. She wanted me to come by when I finished working for the day. She lives just outside of town, ironically not far from the Devil’s Riot MC clubhouse. She lives on a farm, but since my grandfather died twelve years ago, she hasn’t done anything with the farm. She managed the yardwork herself the best she could.

Since moving here, I’ve been doing what I could to help her with the upkeep of it. It was a good thing my daddy made sure I knew how to do stuff on my own. He taught me, alongside my brothers, how to use a zero-turn mower, a weed-eater, and everything else that went along with knowing how to manage a yard. Since he’s a hunter, he taught us all how to shoot as well.

Everything he taught was beneficial to us all, and I liked being able to be self-sufficient. It just sucked sometimes. I had my own place in town to take care of on top of helping my grandma. Not that I’d ever complain. I should’ve just moved in with her when I decided to make the move, but like her, I like my independence just as much as she does. I’ve been on my own since I was twenty and had the money saved up in order to get my own place.

Grandma Ryans, she’s my mom’s mom and stubborn as a mule. My mom says I’m just like the woman who raised her, and I take that as a compliment because my grandma is awesome, even if she’s a bit batty.

I pull into the driveway to find the old woman outside already with that wide brim hat of hers, weeding her flowerbeds.She’s always doing something outside in her flowerbeds. Or in the little rose garden she’s got off to the side of the house.

The property is surrounded by overgrown fields, but around the house, it is kept neat.

I park the car and drag myself out from behind the wheel. I pop the trunk of my car and move to the back of it as it slowly opens. There’s no way I was sticking in heels for whatever I might be doing out here. I grab my muck boots out and make the switch easily.

“You don’t need to be changing them shoes out, sweetheart,” Grandma Ryans calls out.

“Knowing you, Grandma, I’m not taking chances,” I shout back with a laugh.

Shoes changed, I cross the yard to where she’s been working.

“What are you doing out here now?”

“I want to get some brown mulch from town and spread it around. Give my beds a fresh look,” she says, nodding to where she already gotten a patch of mulch done. “See how good that looks. I want the rest of my beds to look the same.”

“It does look good,” I agree. “Want me to get you some delivered?”

“I’ll get it delivered,” she states, planting her hands on her hips.

“Okay, so what was it you wanted me to come out here for this afternoon?”

Grandma Ryans looks back at her flowers momentarily before dropping her arm and starting for the house. “Found something I wanted to show you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s something that I thought you would appreciate,” she says, nodding. “You go make us some sweet teas while I get it.”

I knew better than to protest. She’s a woman who, when she tells you to do something, you listen.

I barely get the two glasses set on the table before my grandma makes her way to the little table. Her hands filled with a small little box.

“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the thing.

“I just found it last night while looking for something in the guest room closet.”

The guest room used to be my mom’s room.

“So, it’s Mom’s?” I ask, eyeing the box.

“It is, and I figured you could have it. No reason to hold onto it for her. She’s got no need for a little box like this.” Grandma sets the box next to me and takes her seat. “Go ahead and open it. We’ll look and see what secrets your momma left behind.”

Laughing, I shake my head, but still, I do as she says and open the box. Inside, it’s filled with little folded pieces of paper. I open one and read over it. It’s a love letter from the looks of it, but it’s not signed.

“What’s it say?” Grandma asks.

Quickly, I read the letter to her and see her features change.

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