Page 24 of Needing Your Love
“Please.”
She settled across from me a few minutes later, her brown eyes fixated on my face. “How are you doing, Jimmy?”
I shrugged, unable to hold her gaze, allowing mine to drop to my forearm. At least the unconscious scratching at my arm hadn’t broken skin or left marks. “Worse than expected, but I’m surviving.”
“You always were a strong boy.”
I huffed a snort. “Didn’t have much choice, did I?”
“No, but you do now. What’s your plan?”
“Sell that shithole and get the hell out of here again.” The second part didn’t sit well in my mind and caused my stomach to churn. But unless I could change Sutton’s stance on avoiding my attempts to get my hands on his dick or even better yet, sneak my way into his heart and make myself as comfortable as he had in mine, I had no other choice.
“I’m thinking about moving to Florida to be with my sister.”
I jerked my focus upward to find Gram studying me intently. “What…what about the shop?”
“I’m getting too old to hobble around that place for more than a couple of hours a day.”
“Well, what about your son?” I tried again. The thought of the only semi-family I had in my life creating that kind of distance between us churned my stomach.
Gram pursed her lips. “Kurt is an absolute mess. A loser.”
“Gram!”
“Well, he is!” she insisted, and from what she’d written in her monthly letters, I had to agree. The man was a drinker, made zero time for his son, and wasn’t exactly queer friendly.
“And DJ?” I asked quietly, expecting she would miss her grandson terribly—and that the poor boy would suffer without her being nearby.
Gram heaved a heavy exhale and sat back, toying with her coffee mug, forehead furrowed, wrinkled lips pursed for a few silent minutes. “He’s what is making this choice so damned difficult,” she finally shared. “He’s only eight, and I’ve already stayed a couple of years longer than I wanted to. My sister is having some health problems and would really benefit from having me as a roommate.”
I could understand the tug-of-war in her mind and wished I had wisdom or a solution to offer her.
She glanced at the antique clock ticking on the wall behind me. “He’ll be here soon.”
“Yeah?” I asked, grinning even though a sense of heaviness lingered. I’d heard all about her only grandchild but had yet to meet him. Gram’s son, Kurt, and his ex-wife, Carrie, had married right before I’d left Pippen Creek. DJ had been born a little while later, but at least I’d gotten printed pictures from Gram so I could put a face to her grandson’s name.
“He’s a troublemaker, like you were, but sweet as pie, same as you.”
I chuckle. “You’re only saying that because he has you wrapped around his little finger like I did.”
Gram smiled, but zero trace of silliness filled her wise gaze. “I’ve lived enough years that searching out the core of a person, even one as young as DJ, isn’t that difficult. He’s hurting, and while not nearly as badly as you did with that awful father of yours, his situation is traumatic.”
Gram had told me about Kurt and Carrie’s difficult divorce and her son’s turn to alcohol, so I didn’t doubt the conclusion she’d arrived at.
The doorbell rang, and her eyes lit up. She pushed to her feet, grabbing her cane. “Come meet the other boy who makes me smile.”
Once more, my eyes stung, and I followed on Gram’s heels into the entryway.
The door pushed open before we got there, and a wild, brown-haired terror came flying inside.
“Gram!” he hollered, same as I’d always done when entering into the only peaceful place I’d found inside Pippen Creek. The boy threw his arms around his grandmother’s waist, eyes closed, grinning like a dork as he hugged her tight.
She smiled down at him like he hung the moon in the night sky, her frail hands sifting through his thick hair.
My heart ached over memories of her doing the same with me.
“Mom.” Kurt greeted Gram as he stepped over the threshold and dropped a backpack to the floor. I could smell the stench of a hangover wafting off him and fought my gag reflex. “I’ll grab him tomorrow night,” he muttered.
