Page 25 of Needing Your Love
“Okay,” Gram said without argument when she’d bitched through letters how often her son unloaded his responsibilities on her doorstep—even though she enjoyed every precious second with her grandson.
“Hey, Kurt.” I bypassed his mom to stick my hand out since it was what Gram would have wanted me to do no matter how much of an ass her son could be. “Good to see you,” I lied.
He hesitated but gave me a brief shake before wiping his palm on his jeans. No greeting, not even a sound of agreement passed his lips. Considering the guys in construction in these redneck towns tended to curl their noses at people like me who presented more feminine than masculine, I wasn’t surprised.
Skin toughened by years of abuse and all that.
I lifted my chin, giving him a haughty look even though he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“See you tomorrow, Mom,” Kurt said over his shoulder as he hurried outside, shutting the door behind him.
Good fucking riddance.
I breathed a little easier, shoulders relaxing.
“DJ,” Gram said, turning him toward me, “this is my friend Jimmy, the one I’ve been talking about.”
“Gram never shuts up,” DJ said, smirking up at me, his dark eyes full of mischief.
I glanced at her then held a hand to my mouth to shield my lips while leaning toward DJ. “But she makes thebestchocolate chip cookies, which makes all her stories worth listening to.”
“Right?” he whisper-hollered.
“Right!” I agreed, straightening with a grin. “Come on,” I said, nodding toward the kitchen. “She left me a plateful, but I’m not going to finish them. I don’t mind sharing.”
“Yes,” he hissed and scampered back through the hallway.
Gram grasped my hand. “I’m sorry for Kurt’s ignorance, and thank you for your kindness to DJ,” she stated quietly, her tone unsteady, her eyes watery and filled with gratitude.
I squeezed her fingers, having to swallow the thickness from my throat.
Perhaps coming to Pippen Creek wouldn’t be a waste of time.
“You shoot hoops?” DJ hollered from the kitchen, the garbled words evidence he’d shoved a cookie into his mouth and attempted to speak around the chocolatey goodness.
“Yeah!” I hollered, expecting he and I would be out in Grams backyard, intent on sinking baskets into the ancient rim still hanging above the shed door.
“You’re a sweet boy, Jimmy,” Gram said, and for once, I didn’t feel the need to argue what she’d believed of me since the day I’d first walked into her shop.
I’d been hoping to hide from Dad and the frigid air that cut through the threadbare coat from two winters before.
She’d invited me farther into the only consignment store in town, told me to make myself comfortable on an old Victorian couch, a soft throw blanket atop my thin legs and a mug of hot chocolate in my hands minutes later.
I’d fallen in love with her that afternoon and had spent more afternoons there than in my own home. But everything had changed—and continued to with every passing hour.
One day soon, I would be free of Pippen Creek while Gram would be retired, possibly lounging poolside beneath the Florida sun, but I wondered how much happiness either of us would feel considering what we would leave behind.
Her, willingly.
Me, not so much. But I’d learned that worms didn’t always get what they wanted, no matter how hard they hung onto the hope of one day being able to bask beneath the sun-flooded sky without drying to an empty husk.
Chapter 11
Sutton
Jamie’s first week working at the station started out quiet except for Babs’s squeals of delight over learning my son and Chaz had gotten engaged over the weekend. Since she was the town gossip—with only the best of intentions—I wasn’t surprised word about their upcoming marriage spread as quickly as it did.
I also found out from her vast knowledge that Jimmy had rented a dumpster to empty out his dad’s house.
