Page 18 of Can't Get Enough

“If I’m old so is Grip. He’s my age.” I twist my lips up and scoff. “He a good forty.”

“I don’t care how old he is,” Zere interjects. “It’s our party. We deserve a little meet and greet. Come on, Chapel.”

They walk off in the direction of the small group of people clustered around Grip and his wife, and my gaze drifts back to the pier. I’ve been forcing myself tonotlook down there where Hendrix stands alone, but now I can’t stop myself. Not because she’s beautiful. She definitely is, but that’s not why I sat down beside her at the bar. After watching her enthrall a group of people into dancing to her tune, I was drawn to the woman who so effortlessly compelled half the people at my party to eat from the palm of her hand. For the last twenty years identifying the exceptional and capitalizing on it has been my job. It’s an impossible habit to break, and Hendrix was much too exceptional to ignore.

I wasn’t flirting with her. I don’t think I crossed any lines. I would never disrespect Zere that way publicly. Even though we both know our relationship is done, no one else here does. Something about Hendrix drew me, though, beyond the obvious physical appeal. There’s a boldness to her that tricks you, as strength often does, into believing there’s no soft spots.

No sooner had I adjusted to the bravado of her, I got to see the vulnerability. I can still hear the haunting tones of that hymn she sang to calm her mother. My mom found little rituals like that to ease my grandfather’s way until at the end, he was so lost that none of those things mattered. That’s what waits at the end of this road, and my heart contracts for Hendrix and her mother.

“Hey, Brad,” I call to the bartender. He glances up from the drink he’s pouring.

“Yeah, boss?” He slides the drink down the bar with a smile to the guy waiting before turning back to me. “What’s up?”

“The woman who was here earlier.” I gesture to the seat Hendrix had occupied before Chapel and Zere approached. “What was she drinking?”

“Golden Cadillac.” He clears the empty glass Hendrix left on the bar. “She need another?”

“Yeah.” I glance down to the pier where she still stands alone. “I think she might.”

CHAPTER 5

HENDRIX

The way I’m feeling, the last thing I need is to stand around fake oohing and ahhing over Zere’s fireworks. I’m leaving this party. Chapel can stay if she wants.

My mind keeps playing out scenarios of what could be happening with Mama now, what could happen next. Things Aunt Geneva wouldn’t want to “bother me” about.

What if she gets out again? Wanders, this time into the street at night? We have keyless, coded locks on the doors now, but you never know.

I turn, determined to march back up that hill to catch an Uber and the next flight to Charlotte. I run into a wall of muscled chest before I can take even one full step.

“Sorry.” I glance up a few inches. “Oh, Maverick! Hey.”

“Hey.” He proffers a glass, another Golden Cadillac. “Thought maybe you could use this after that call.”

I study the strong lines of his face, softened a little with sympathy.

“Thanks.” I take the drink and lift the glass for a cooling sip. “I needed this.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. It’s not an easy diagnosis.”

“Easy?” I lick the traces of liquor from my lips, laughing mirthlessly and turning my attention back to the bay, its tranquility so at odds with the emotion churning in my chest. “No, it’s definitely not that.”

“I’m sorry I mentioned it,” he says, standing beside me and facingthe water. “About my grandfather passing. It’s not what you want to think about at this stage.”

“It’s all I can think about. The end and everything that leads up to it.” I slide him a glance. “Was it your paternal or maternal grandfather?”

“Maternal. My mom was determined to look after him herself as much as she could.”

“How is she now that he’s gone?”

He hesitates an almost imperceptible moment, and then turns his head to meet my eyes. “She died not too long after he did.”

“Oh, my God.” I touch his forearm, compassion closing my fingers around the warm skin. “I’m so sorry. Your poor family. Losing so much.”

“Aneurysm.” He lifts his eyes and studies the darkening sky. “I sometimes wonder if taking care of him so well took too much out of her. If maybe she… I don’t know. It doesn’t do any good to wonder, but I do know she took better care of Pop Pop than she took of herself.”

A small smile steals across my face for the first time since the call. “Pop Pop?”

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