Page 140 of From Air

“Grab cookies if you need them or hot drinks if you don’t already have one. Let’s go,” Evette announces.

I feign Christmas cheer and mutter a few lyrics as we stroll through the neighborhood. Three songs into this delightful gig, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s my grandma. I fly to California tomorrow. She probably has her days mixed up and is wondering why I’m not there yet. “Hello?”

“Calvin?” She sounds weak.

I stiffen, and panic sets in before I can utter a word. “Grandma, what is it? Are you okay?”

“They ... they took Terry to the hospital. He wasn’t ... I-I shook him. He didn’t respond. They were shocking h-his heart. He wasn’t—”

“Okay. Just sit down, and try to breathe. Are you alone?” I hand Will my canteen. He narrows his eyes.

I cross the street so I can hear better. MaybeI’mthe dick tonight, but I’m relieved it’s Terry and not her. I don’t know Terry that well, so my emotional investment in him is close to nil. However, I don’t like that she’s panicked and I’m so far away.

“They wouldn’t let me go in the ambulance.” Her voice quakes.

“There’s nothing you can do. Do you have a neighbor who can be with you? My flight is in the morning.”

“I-I don’t know. I can’t breathe. What if he’s not okay?”

I grip my phone tighter and yank my beanie from my head. She needs to calm down. She’s survived so much worse; she just doesn’t remember. “Just hold tight, and stay by your phone. I’m going to see if Jamie can wait for news with you. And I’ll call you right back. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Everything all right?” Will asks, having abandoned the other carolers too.

“No. My grandma’s guy friend was hauled off in an ambulance. He’s probably dead. And she’s alone and in a panic. She’s going to have another fucking stroke if she doesn’t calm down.” I hold my phone to my ear, waiting for Jamie to answer.

“Fitz?” She sounds surprised.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t bother you if I had another choice, but my grandma just called. They took Terry to the hospital. He was unresponsive. She’s panicking. I’m flying out in the morning, but—”

“I’ll take care of her,” Jamie interrupts. Her words aren’t panicked like my grandma’s or tight with frustration like mine. She’s calm and grounded.

“Thanks,” I sigh.

She ends the call with a clipped “yep,” and it takes me a minute to shake off the sound of her voice and its effect on me.

After a delayed flight and a long line at the rental counter, I finally reach my grandma’s place and park next to Jamie’s Jeep.

I’m not ready to see her. I don’t know if I’ll ever be prepared to see her again. The emotions are too raw. And a month apart has only intensified them. I can’t think of her without hearing Gary’s speech replaying in my head.

I open the front door.

“Shh ...” Jamie holds a finger to her lips while easing the bedroom door shut behind her. “She finally fell asleep an hour ago.” She frowns, eyes red like she’s been crying. “Terry didn’t make it. It’s hit her hard. I caved and gave her something to help her sleep.”

I nod slowly. This fucking hurts. But I don’t know the exact source of the pain. I just know that standing feet from her is almost unbearable. “Um ...” I clear my throat. “Thank you. I didn’t know who else to call.”

She brushes past me. I curl my fingers into fists, resisting the urge to touch her.

“I’m glad I could be here for her.” She pulls on her gray ankle boots. “I felt bad that it took me so long to get here. I’ve been spending the holidays with”—she lifts her gaze to mine while sliding on her jacket—“friends. And it’s about an hour away. But with holiday traffic, it took me just under two hours.”

Friends.

She stressedfriends, and her downcast gaze reeks of guilt or regret.

Does she meanfriend? Singular? A guy?

I press my lips together, biting my tongue. It’s none of my business.

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