Page 131 of From Air

“Mm-hmm.” A smile has never looked so fabricated. She averts her gaze.

I bite my tongue because this isn’t the place to push her on it. So I take the suitcases and lead the way to the parking lot.

When we arrive at the house, I help my grandma out of the truck while Jamie retrieves the suitcases.

“I’ll get those, Jaymes.”

“I’ve got them.” She wheels them toward the front door.

Grandma holds my proffered arm while I escort her into the house. “I never thought I’d get to see your place.”

“It’s Will’s place, but it feels like mine with him and Maren gone for the holiday.” By the time I shut the door and help Grandma out of her jacket, Jamie’s at the top of the stairs. “Maren washed her sheets, so my grandma will be in that room.”

Without looking back, Jamie nods and turns right.

“Can I get you something to eat?” I ask.

“You know what I need?” Grandma straightens her blue paisley blouse.

“What’s that?”

“The bathroom. Then a nap.”

I chuckle. “Understandable. Sorry for the stairs.”

“It’s fine.” Again, she takes my arm, and we navigate the stairs like two sloths.

By the time we reach the top, Jamie’s waiting for us.

“Need any help?” Jamie asks, sliding her hands into her jeans pockets.

“I’ll take it from here, dear. You’ve already done too much.” Grandma pats Jamie’s arm before disappearing into the bathroom.

I stand two steps from the top and pull Jamie into my arms so that my head rests on her chest over her heart. “I’ve missed you.”

After a few seconds, she teases her fingers through my hair, and her body vibrates when she inhales a shaky breath.

I lift my head, eyes squinting. “I wasn’t going to push this, but I can’t ignore it. Are you still upset about Halloween?”

Her eyes are a million miles away, eerily dislocated from me, this moment, and everything around us.

I’ve never seen anyone appear so lost.

“No,” she whispers.

The bathroom door opens. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be napping.” Grandma heads toward Maren’s room. “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

Her overly obvious hint would typically pull a chuckle from me, but I can’t find the slightest smile.

“I’m having my period,” Jamie says, sliding past me to descend the stairs.

Admittedly, I’m not an expert on women’s hormones and the mood swings that accompany them. Maren either hides the emotional elements of her cycle, or I’ve totally missed them.

I follow her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“I should start on the pies. Did you get the ingredients?” She opens the fridge door.

I close it and stand in front of it, arms crossed. “I don’t think you’ve been on your period for a whole month. You have to spell this out for me. And I’m sorry if that makes me an asshole for not knowing or not reading your mind or the stars, the moon—whatever. What did I do wrong?”

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