Page 82 of Mistlefoe
“Good enough, I guess.” Sierra pulls away. “Let’s get you home.”
Sierra offers to drive us home and take an Uber to her place, but I adamantly refuse. It’s already late enough that her parents must be worried. After much canoodling, I convince her to drive my truck home and call an Uber for Gramps and I. She’ll pick me up for work tomorrow.
I slump against the backseat of the Uber, exhausted now that this bizarre day is over.
“I nearly keeled over on the spot when the pretty miss called me crying her little heart out.” Beside me, Gramps’s voice grows gradually gruffer until he has to clear his throat. “Ithought something horrible had happened to you, something worse than three years ago.”
I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Sorry, Gramps. I hate that I made you both worry.”
“Worrying me is normal. I’ve done that everyday since you were in your mom’s tummy. But that young lady…” He shakes his head, and I’m not sure if the flash in his eyes is just from the streetlights or if there really are tears in them. “She was just as bad. Like she already loves you and can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “I—I?—”
“She’s the stark opposite of your ex, Conor. So, don’t screw this one up.”
Gramps just verbalized what I’ve been feeling all evening, as the doctor and nurses tested my head and my eye—that Sierra cares for me in a way I haven’t felt outside of my only blood relative.
She didn’t leave. She could’ve waited only until Gramps arrived and then gone home. She could’ve decided right there and then that dating a guy with a permanent sports injury is too much hassle, and called it a day. She could’ve been Nikki two point zero but she’s Sierra. And Sierra will do whatever it takes to make sure I’m okay.
Something larger than me surges from deep within me. I grab tight onto the door handle and a fistful of my jeans, squeezing my jaw to contain it. It’s something primal and nameless, but somehow I understand it.
I too would move a mountain for her if I had to, because I love her.
“I won’t,” I finally respond to Gramps, firmer than it should be possible after this day. “Because she’s the one for me.”
CHAPTER 28
SIERRA
After enough drama to last me a lifetime, the annualSPORTYChristmas event is finally underway. The spiked eggnog is flowing, the canapés are vanishing into ravenous mouths, the games are being played, the gifts are being taken, and I finally have a moment of seclusion and peace all by myself in Gramps’s office.
Do I feel bad for leaving Conor to the wolves? A little, but I just need five minutes to gather myself. I feel as if parts of me were scattered all over the place and that’s why I can’t function.
After securing the three booths from the convention center after Conor’s accident, we spent the next two days installing them and decorating this place along with the help of some part-timers. Last night blended into this morning with all the finishing touches, and Conor and I took a nap in his truck before showering in the locker rooms, changing into our party outfits, and receiving the caterers.
That was when I realized we forgot to hire out the gingerbread cookie baker so we could have cookies to throw Conor’s axes to in one of the booths.
After a moment of panic, I had to run around town visitingbakeries and supermarkets until I collected enough cookies to destroy tonight. By the time I came back to the rink, the first few guests were already arriving.
I couldn’t even describe what all transpired after that. It’s been a blur since of passing along information brochures but still having to explain everything anyway, to running around putting out figurative little fires here and there. I put on my comfiest sneakers for today and my feet are still so sore I can barely feel them.
I’m sure Conor feels just as tired and would love a respite, but he was surrounded by tipsy people the moment I found myself free, and so I ran for my life. I’ll apologize with kisses when I can move again.
I groan to my heart’s content as I place my feet on the coffee table and lean my head back on the sofa. I’m just closing my eyes when the door opens to a familiar voice.
“Has anyone told you that groan should be illegal?”
I crack an eye open. Conor doesn’t look any less hot just because he’s wearing a sweater with a massive reindeer at the front, complete with a red light-up nose. In fact, somehow enhancing his dork side makes him look even better. Not to mention, he somehow carved some time yesterday to trim his hair and beard and it’s doing things to me.
“Has anyone told you that your face should be illegal? It makes a girl have naughty thoughts.”
His eyebrows rise. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
“Sorry, I don’t have the energy to flirt more than this right now,” I say with a weak laugh.
Clearly, he’s not as drained as I am because he takes one look at the empty space beside me on the couch, and instead of joining me he offers a hand. “C’mon, save the adrenaline crash for the weekend.”
I whine. “But, but…”
