Page 66 of The Kings of Kearny

“You’re welcome,” she said, glancing past me. “I’ll take those, hon.”

Liam handed her a stack of plates he’d cleared from the table and headed back for more.

Jakob stood at the sink, rinsing dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Motorcycle clubs and the people who joined them could be shockingly backward sometimes, and just because women were prevalent in both the Kings and the Specters, it didn’t mean they weren’t often shoved into traditional gender roles or treated as “lesser” members. I hadn’t known what the dynamic in the Larsons’ household would be coming into it, and seeing Liam and Jakob help cook and clean came as a nice surprise. Then again, maybe I should have expected something like this after spending the night in Jakob’s spotless apartment.

“What can I do?” I asked, glancing at the plates in Jennifer’s hands.

She looked out through the glass door to where Gran sat in one of the comfy deck chairs. “Maybe just go sit with her for a while?”

I nodded and left them to their work. She was right. Gran probably needed a familiar face more than they did another set of helping hands. It wasn’t that I’d been avoiding being alone with her; I just felt so guilty that I didn’t know what to say right now. Her being here was my fault. If I’d just kept to myself and stayed out of Kings business, she might still be in her familiar apartment, having another good day.

I took a deep breath and headed out to sit with her, reminding myself that she wasn’t safe there. Gran having a bad day because she was in a new environment was better than her being at risk in a place that had been infiltrated by gang members who had already stolen one prescription from her and might have been getting ready to pilfer another. But it didn’t mean I had to like it. And it sure as shit didn’t do much to assuage my lingering guilt. She’d taken such great care of me for years on end, even when I was a shitty teenager who was always getting into trouble, and I felt like now that it was my turn to take care of her, I was failing.

“Hey there,” I said, sinking into the chair beside her.

She turned to me, her long hair floating a little in the breeze. Her grin was wide, and beneath the glow of the afternoon sun, she looked younger than her years and deceptively healthy.

Fucking Alzheimer’s, I thought for the millionth time since her diagnosis.

“It’s so peaceful here,” she said.

I nodded and turned to take in the view. “It really is.” The breeze died back, and I heard water rushing along the banks far below, as if the river wasn’t as slow and lethargic as I’d first assumed.

“Your beau is handsome,” Gran said, a teasing edge to her tone that had me turning back to her.

“I sure think so,” I said. No point in arguing with the woman. I’d reintroduced her to Jakob before we sat down to lunch—she’d forgotten him overnight—and if the first time she met him was any indicator, trying to tell her we weren’t an item was a losing battle that I’d be stupid to fight a second time.

“His parents seem nice,” she added. “Especially under the circumstances. Not many people would take in two women who have drawn the attention of a criminal organization.”

I nodded but kept my mouth shut. Sometimes when Gran had bad days, she grew upset easily, and I didn’t think it wise to tell her that the people she had just called nice were also members of a criminal organization.

“How long do you think we’ll need to hide out here?” she asked.

“Not long, I hope. When I talked to the police yesterday, they said they were going to look into Magnolia.”

“Do you plan on trying to salvage your apartment once it’s safe to go home?” she asked.

I’d given her a brief rundown of the past few days, excluding her involvement from a lot of the story so she didn’t feel bad or get upset over her missing memories.

I bit my lip as I contemplated her question. I’d been studiously ignoring the thought of my trashed apartment. That apartment had been my safe haven since moving here. I’d nested pretty hard, craving a place that finally felt likemine. Between how much we moved around when I was younger and spending my early adult years living in barracks or temporary military housing, home was a concept that was unfamiliar to me, and I’d wanted my apartment to be that home. Now I balked at the thought of going back to it. Someone had already violated it, and I didn’t think it would ever feel like the safe, inviting space I’d longed for.

“I don’t think I can salvage it,” I told Gran.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, reaching out to grip my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

I nodded, fighting back the sting of tears. “I know you are. I’m sorry too.”

Her expression hardened. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. None of this is your fault.”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and tried to let her words sink in. Tried to believe them.

A softwhooshsounded from behind us, and we turned to see Jakob pushing open the slider.

“Good Lord, he’s striking,” Gran said, voice low enough that he wouldn’t hear—thank God. “Not traditionally handsome, maybe, but you just want to look and look at him, don’t you?”

I nodded. Yes. Yes, I did.

Gran caught sight of my face, laughed, and then stood from her seat. “I think I’ll go see if Jennifer needs any help inside.”

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