Page 6 of Anchored

Then she fell asleep mid-conversation half an hour later. I sat next to her bed, studying her familiar features for a long while before I whipped out my phone and began to google dementia. Each article was more horrifying than the first. Most of them said she could be irrationally angry at times. Her personality could change. And the advice was to not argue with them. Just go along with their confusion or you risk an angry outburst that could lead to worse health outcomes.

By the time the door squeaked open to show a stupidly handsome stranger and Grandma Gracie woke up the second time, I was terrified and more confused than ever on how to handle Grandma with this new diagnosis. I also felt guilty. Guilty for not being here for two years and missing this progression entirely.

I blame the emotions for what I did next.

I blurted out the most ridiculous proclamation ever. My fiancé? This stranger? The most gorgeous man I’ve seen in years and don’t even know his first name? Yeah, I did that. And he went along with it. Well, I think so anyway. He let me snuggle up to him and he not only didn’t push me away, he kept his mouth zipped.

The man feels like all he does is work out. I didn’t know they made scrubs to fit the kind of muscle I feel pressed against my body. Not one ounce of fat lines his waistline as my arm curls around him. Nutting namaste! My grandma is lying in a bed with a new medical diagnosis that will drastically change her life and I’m focused on the man candy I threw myself on like the absolute weirdo I am.

Grandma makes it clear her only goal left in life is to see the two of us married. Guilt surges again. Did I get this wrong? I thought I’m supposed to agree with the patient to avoid an outburst? I’m leaning over Grandma and staring into her cloudy blue eyes when I open my mouth to take it all back. To tell her the truth because she’s my favorite person in the whole world and therefore deserves the hard, honest truth. I should have told her all those times she called and asked about Dexter. It’s just so much harder to look her in the eyes and utter those same lies.

Except, the stranger’s hand lands on my back and every muscle in my body contracts painfully and then quivers into a puddle of need and want.

“Let’s see if we can talk to Grandma Gracie’s doctor, my little moonbeam.”

His voice is an intimate rumble right behind me, making me shake in my leather sandals. I turn, mouth agape at how my body responds to everything about this man. His body, his voice, his very presence is addling my brain. He gives me the tiniest of head nods, which somehow makes me look down, taking in his scrubs yet again. This time I see the scrubs and not the body beneath them. He must be a nurse. A doctor? Someone in the medical field who might know more than me about dementia? Well, if he’s going along with the fiancé story, then so should I.

My forehead falls to his muscled chest, a warm, firm pillow of strength that I could use right now. He smells like soap and cologne and a touch of…canine. His arm comes around my shoulders and now I’m pressed against him, every inch of me jumping for joy when there are serious matters at play here. Did he call memoonbeam? My lips curve upward at the absurdity.

“Thank you my…hunky monkey,” I manage to croak out in response.

I don’t hear it, but I feel it the second his body shakes with silent laughter. I don’t dare look up, but I do pull away, focusing on Grandma like my life depends on it. She’s beaming at us, her eyes soft like she’s remembering those early days with Grandpa.

“You two remind me of me and Colby. So in love. So hot for each other we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves!” Grandma cackles, her painted-on eyebrows wagging.

I hear the man behind me clear his throat. My face is burning because Grandma’s not wrong. At least on my part. I’d like to get my hands on this man’s body, for sure. Shitting Shiva, when was the last time I got laid?

The man behind me fills the awkward silence. “I knew from the moment I kissed Maple in the moonlight and my glasses fell off. I was too dumbfounded by her kiss to do anything but swipe up my glasses and walk off. I was young and stupid, but I thank my little moonbeam every day that she’s forgiven me.”

It’s like the rumble of his voice has a direct line to between my legs, a vibrator of sound waves that makes me whimper where I stand. Then it hits me. Glasses? Kiss?

Oh. My. Savasana.

Holt. This specimen of a man before me, the one I just guilted into play acting as my fiancé is my childhood crush? The boy who gave me my first kiss and then broke my heart the next summer when he was dating someone else. After that year, my father started insisting I spend my summers at science camps instead of “wasting all my time playing.” I never saw Holt again, though he did swim through my memories for several years after that fateful kiss.

A gasp bubbles out of my mouth and Holt covers for me, his mouth twitching into a devastating smirk. “Oh, you haven’t forgiven me yet, moonbeam? I’ll have to work for it a little harder.”

I lick my lips. Holt’s smirk falters, his gaze dropping. Then he grabs my hand and pulls us toward the door. “We better find Grandma’s doctor before he leaves from his rounds.”

“Wait! Don’t forget your suitcase, darling!” Grandma Gracie calls after us.

I halt, tugging on my hand clasped in Holt’s. He stops and lets go of me to march over to the suitcase by the chair I’ve been sitting in. He picks it up like it weighs no more than a feather before marching back to my side.

“I’m so glad you’ll be staying at my cabin for the summer, Maple. Maybe you can bust me out of here on occasion and we can chat around the fire pit over hot chocolate and marshmallows like we used to.”

The grin is instant, the memory as real as Holt’s hand on my back. “I’d like that, Grandma.”

I wave as Holt pushes us through the door and we escape into the living room. An old family portrait of all five of us is hung proudly on the wall. I can’t be more than eighteen and already look like a misfit in my thrifted ripped jeans and concert tee. Toby looks like the ass-kisser he is in his ill-fitting suit and tie. Mom and Dad barely smile. And I’m staring at the picture to keep from looking at Holt.

“You actually can’t stay there, moonbeam.”

Indignation has my spine straightening. Away from his hand. My family steamrolls right over me all the time. There are too many steamrollers fighting over who gets to run over me yet again to let this blast from my past be another one. My gaze flicks over to his as I spin to face him.

“Oh yes, I will. I spent every summer there growing up. Grandma didn’t sell it.”

Holt folds his huge arms across his puffed-out chest. Or maybe that’s just how his pectoral muscles always look. “You’re right. She didn’t sell it. But she did rent it out.”

My mouth pops open. Dread settles into my gut at one more thing Dad forgot to tell me. Ihaveto stay at Grandma’s cabin. There’s no way I’ll find a room to rent here in Anchor Lake. This place is overrun with tourists from Memorial Day to Labor Day. At this point, I might have to pitch a tent and hope for the best with the wild forest animals.

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