Page 109 of Dream Chaser
“And Angela?”
I run my hand through my hair. “No. But her parents know.”
“Her parents?” she asks, snatching up my phone again and scrolling through what I assume is Izzy’s IG. “You met her parents?” Before I can answer, she gasps. “You work with her?”
I lean over to see what she’s looking at. It’s a picture someone must’ve tagged Iz in, taken in the merch closet before the meet and greet. She’s got her hair tied up in that messy-ass bun, half-smile on her face, holding a stack of wristbands like it’s a weapon. In the background, I’m there, too, behind her, pretending I didn’t just steal a glance at her ass.
“Well … no. But also, yes.”
Grand turns her head slowly, like she’s waiting for the rest.
“She helps with the team’s merch,” I say. “Her family—her parents—they’re part owners. So, technically, she’s around because of that.”
Grand doesn’t say anything for a second then raises both eyebrows. “Jesus, Griffon, you’re sleeping with the boss’s daughter?”
“I could lie and say I didn’t know that at first,” I mutter. “But yeah, I guess I am.”
Her lips press together, not judging exactly, but calculating. “That’s a mess.”
“I know.”
She sets the phone down, folding her arms over the counter. “Is she worth it?”
I exhale, slow and steady, but the answer rises up like it’s always been waiting.
“I’m already in deep, Grand.”
She waits.
“I’m falling.”
I try to figure out how to explain, and that triggers the memory of when I first came to live with them. Like Iz, Grand’s eyes, if you learn how to read them, they tell you everything you need to know.
There’s a beat of silence, and then her whole face softens. “Lord, help us. You finish eating, but then it’s me and you on the porch swing with sweet tea and Jesus.”
“I’m not thirteen anymore, Grand, and if you want me to give it to you undiluted, I’m gonna need you to make me one of your old fashions.”
“Am I gonna need to make them doubles?”
“Oh yeah,” I answer.
Due to the heat and drink, I don’t dilute much at all. Obviously, I leave out the fuck-hot details, but not about the fact I’ve never felt the same with anyone else ever.
“You should have dragged her here. She sounds like a hoot!”
“Need some distance to make sure this isn’t just …” I shrug. “You know.”
“Yes, I know! I know it as well as I know you!” She laughs. Hell, we’ve been laughing the entire conversation.
Grand pats my knee like she’s sealing a deal. “Well, now that you’ve had your confession, what are you gonna do about it?”
I swirl the last of the old fashion in my glass and watch the orange peel stick to the side like it’s got regrets. “I’m letting her live her life. I’ve got to let this breathe. Can’t trap something wild if you want it to, you know, fall, too.”
She hums. “That’s a pretty metaphor, baby, but don’t forget—if you wait too long to pick a peach, it’s gonna rot right there on the branch.”
I blink. “That … was dark, Grand.”
“It’s true.” She shrugs, sipping her drink like she didn’t just drop a bomb of Southern wisdom coated in subtle dare. “Love requires timing. And intention. You can’t just hover at the edge of her life and expect her to wait with her door cracked.”
