Page 91 of Trustfall

“No, Emory. What happened with your parents was tragic. But not everyone loses love so easily. Your grandfather and I had forty years together, and his love didn’t kill me. It made me stronger. I’m not a fool, Emory. I know why I’m here. I know who you are now, but I might not tomorrow,” she says sadly, her eyes dropping down before rising to meet mine. “But his death didn’t put me here. It started before he died. Just little things. I would wash my hair twice because I couldn’t remember if I had already washed it. I would go to the grocery store and not remember why I was there. Opa knew. But I didn’t want to worry you kids.”

“I—I didn’t know. I thought it was because he left you.”

“I’m sure that didn’t help. But it was always going to happen. It’s life, Emory. Shit happens, but we pick up the pieces.”

I snort. Leave it to Gram to make it seem so simple. She’s right. Dad lost my mom. She lost Opa. They both grieved in very different ways. My dad didn’t allow himself to feel. He threw himself into his work, ignoring the pieces of her that still remained. Gram allowed herself to feel too much. Maybe it made her dementia worse. Maybe it didn’t, but at least she didn’t hurt the people who were still there. There’s no right way to grieve, but I have to think you can do better than neglecting your children. Dad didn’t pick up the pieces. He let someone else pick them up.

One thing is clear. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let that happen. I’m going to take responsibility. I’m going to fight for Luke the way my mom fought for my dad.

I lift my head up and kiss her softly on the forehead. “Thank you, Gram,” I say. “For everything.”

“I would have done it a hundred times over.” She smiles. “Now go home to your man.”

If only it were that easy.

I stand up and walk over to the door.

“Ik hou van jou, Gram,” I say, echoing the words my grandfather used to say to her in his parents’ native language.I love you.

“I know, baby. Me too,” she says.

I leave the room feeling stronger than when I entered. Nate is standing in the hallway. I'm not sure how long he's been there or if he overheard any of our conversation, but I don't really care. He's spent my whole life trying to shield me from the world, and now it's time for him to help me fight for it.

I can tell the moment he looks at me that he senses something is different, but I don’t have time to sit around talking about it.

“Let’s get him out,” I say and turn on my heel, walking tall as I head out of the building.

31

EMORY

WatchingNate on an important phone call is like watching a royal British guard standing in front of Kensington Palace. He gives nothing away, merely throwing out an “hmm” every once in a while. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t clarify anything. What the fuck?

I should've called the precinct myself, but Nate's more familiar with legal matters from his job. He's always dealing with some sort of legal issue at the company. I pace around my living room, glancing at Nate every few steps, hoping he'll give me some clue about what's happening.

“Thank you,” he finally says, ending the call and walking over to me.

“He’s being charged with aggravated assault. Bail has been set at fifty grand. Because it’s a felony charge, they’re transferring him to county tonight. He will have to stay there until the trial unless he makes bail.”

My head spins from all the words Nate just threw at me. Aggravated assault? Felony? Fifty fucking thousand dollars. I don’t have that kind of money. Neither does Nate. Not liquid anyway. Like me, he insisted he didn’t want any special treatment from our father, so when he joined Caldwell Security, Dad started him off on a pretty meager salary. He makes more now, but he has a mortgage and bills. He can’t swing fifty thousand.

Damn our pride.

We also both turned down the trust funds Dad had set up for us when we turned twenty-four. As long as Gram was taken care of and I had a roof over my head, I didn’t want his hush money. Now I’m regretting it.

It doesn’t matter, though. Even if Luke makes bail, if he’s convicted of a felony, he’ll be sentenced to years in prison. My stomach rolls, and I feel like retching. I have to be strong. Luke needs me to be strong.

“Was it because of last night?” I ask Nate. We haven't had a chance to talk about everything yet. The car ride home from Gram's was silent, like the ride there. As soon as we got to my house, he called the police station.

“No. I would have gotten arrested too,” Nate says.

“That’s true. Maybe something happened the other night at the bar? He was with me all last night after the gazebo…” I don’t miss the way Nate’s eyes flash with anger at my confession, but I choose to ignore it. “What else did they say?”

“Nothing. They wouldn’t tell me who pressed charges.”

“But you talked to him,” I urge.

“Yes.”

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