Page 57 of Stitch & Steel
She looked around, taking in the sterile room. “Guess I wandered off again, huh?”
I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, you did.”
Her mouth tugged into a sad smile. “I hate this damn disease.”
I pulled my chair closer. “Me too.”
For a long moment, we sat in silence. The nurse left quietly, giving us space.
Then Gran shifted under the covers. “You don’t need to give up your life for me, sweetheart.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’ve already given up so much. I see the way you look out the window like you’re trying to find where you fit. You’re young, Bella. You’ve got a whole future ahead of you. Don’t feel like you’re stuck here.”
My voice cracked. “Gran, I’m not stuck.”
“You came here to help me. That’s not the same as staying because it’s what you want.”
I reached for her hand, weathered and warm in mine. “You don’t understand. Being here with you… it’s the first time in a long time I’ve actually felt like myself again. Like maybe I don’t have to keep running just to survive.”
She blinked, watching me.
“I was so afraid I’d never feel grounded again after Brendan—after the city and the chaos and everything I thought I wanted turned out to be a lie. But here? You gave me peace again. Purpose.”
Tears brimmed in my eyes. “I can’t imagine going back to Charlotte. I don’t want to.”
Gran squeezed my hand. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I don’t want the skyscrapers and fake smiles. I want pine trees and starlight. I want coffee on the porch and thunderstorms rolling through the holler. I want to build something real here. Maybe even build it from scratch.”
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly, her eyes glistening. “Well, alright then.”
I laughed through my tears. “That’s it? No lecture? No guilt trip?”
Gran gave me a small, knowing smile. “Honey, I’ve lived long enough to know when someone finds their place in the world. You’ve found yours. And if that place just happens to include a certain leather-wearing, brooding biker with calloused hands and a soft spot for you, then I won’t stand in your way.”
My cheeks flamed. “Gran…”
“I ain’t blind, Bella.” She winked. “I may forget the day of the week sometimes, but I haven’t forgotten how to read people. That boy looks at you like you hung the moon.”
I looked down at our hands, mine folded in hers. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, baby girl. And I’ve got enough savings stashed away for a full-time house aide. Someone who can help me stay here—with supervision. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
I nodded, overwhelmed by the generosity. “Thank you, Gran. For everything. For this place. For giving me a home when I didn’t know I needed one.”
Her lips twitched into a proud smile. “You found your roots, Bella. Now plant 'em deep.”
We sat like that for a long time, fingers laced, the sun climbing higher through the window. A new chapter had just begun, and I could feel it taking shape—one full of hope, of fresh starts, of mountains and motorcycles and the wild kind of love that refuses to be ignored.
Twenty
GRAN
I knewthe time was coming.
You don’t raise hell for eight decades and not feel it in your bones when the end starts creeping near. It’s in the way your joints ache more than they used to, in the blank spots that sneak into your memory like fog rolling off the mountain. But this wasn’t just the Alzheimer’s. Not anymore.
