Page 30 of Back to You
“Were you really homeless?”
I made a face. “For awhile, yeah. I’m glad that part of my life is over.”
“I can’t imagine.” Dane scratched beneath Custard’s jaw and the grumpy cat actually started to purr. “He’s sweet. You remember Bingo, right? The cat we had when we were kids?”
I did remember. Bingo was a chubby tuxedo who Violet loved to dress up in doll clothes and roll around in a stroller. Sweetest cat in the world. He had the patience of a saint, but you could tell how much he loved the twins. Not once did he try to scratch them, even if he was annoyed at being put in a bonnet and forced to have tea-time with the dollies.
When Dane and Violet were twelve, Bingo got sick. Mrs. Fisher took him to the vet, only to find out that he was in the final stages of liver failure. He didn’t come home that night. Violet was inconsolable. I’d never seen someone cry that hard before. The next morning, Dane and I planned this elaborate funeral to say goodbye to Bingo the cat. We stood around his grave and said a few words, while Violet sobbed into a tissue.
“Yeah. He was some cat,” I said softly.
“I always wanted another cat. I missed him, but when I brought it up, Violet felt like we’d be replacing Bingo. It made her really sad.” He stared down at Custard and continued to stroke his fingers through his patchy blond fur. “I didn’t want to see her cry, so I told Mom that we didn’t need another pet. I loved her that much.”
“Does it still hurt?” I whispered, my throat suddenly sore and tight. We weren’t talking about Bingo anymore.
Dane smiled sadly, then dabbed at the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “It will never stop hurting. She was my other half. My twin. We shared a womb, Hols, and then she was just…gone. Dead. Seeing her in that casket, it nearly broke me.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I miss her. There won’t ever be a day that I don’t miss her.”
All I could taste was the bitter tinge of guilt. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there—”
“Don’t. You’re here now.” He reached over and took my hand, giving a squeeze. I dropped my head onto his shoulder and breathed in the spicy aroma of his aftershave and everything else that made DaneDane.
With our fingers linked together and Custard still rattling away on Dane’s lap, we stayed like that until we were called to dinner.
* * *
“You need us to help you with anything, Gran?”
“No, no. You boys sit, I’ll get us something to drink. You like milk, right, Mr. Fisher?” She shuffled past and winked at me. I covered my face with both hands. Oh, Gran…
“Of course, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She pulled three glasses from the cupboard above the sink, filling all of them with milk. They clinked against the table when she sat them down in front of us. “My dear old Calvin liked his roast beef tender. I chose the finest cut for the job, too, I’ll have you know.”
She pointed to the two unoccupied seats. Dane and I exchanged a glance, then sat. Meows erupted from underneath the table as the kitty crew deemed it begging time.
Grandma Gin tutted and shooed them off. “You know the routine. No scraps till after dinner. Anyhow. Where was I? Oh yes, my Calvin enjoyed this meal very much. I felt it was a good choice for tonight. Hollister says you’re somewhat of a caveman.”
“Gran!” I choked on my swig of milk and she cackled like a little old witch. “I did not.”
“Carnivore, caveman, same thing.” She pointed the carving knife at me, then got to work cutting the roast. It practically fell apart with each slice she placed on our plates. I dished out the garlic-herb mashed potatoes—likely made from scratch, knowing Grandma Gin—and she ladled thick mushroom gravy into the divots in the middle. Dane was in for a treat.
With all of three of us sitting around the table, Grandma Gin held out her hands expectantly. I nodded to Dane and we joined hands while Gran said grace.
“Amen,” she finished. “I was never a religious woman, but Calvin was adamant that we thank the good lord for our food every night. Now it’s habit, but the best kind of habit to have, if you ask me. Go on, take a bite and tell me what you think.”
Dane speared a chunk of roast on the tines of his fork, then used the edge to scoop up some potatoes. Raising his brows as well as his utensil, he took a big bite. I could pinpoint the exact moment the flavors registered because his eyes lit up. “Wow, this is wonderful. You’re quite the cook, ma’am.”
“Bah. None of that ma’am bullshit. Makes me feel old. Now tell me, what do you do for work?”
Dinnertime was filled with good food and good conversation, even if Grandma Gin did get a little…pokey. Nosy old bat that she was. But Dane survived her game of twenty questions with passing colors, if the look on her face was anything to go by.
Clearing her throat, she set down her fork and studied him. “Hollister’s told me plenty about you over the years, but I have to say. You’re quite the charming young man, aren’t you?”
Dane exhaled a laugh. “Thank you? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Best you do.” She pointed a crooked finger at him, growing somber. “Don’t you go breaking my boy’s heart now. He’s special to me and I’ll have none of it.”
He glanced over at me, his blue eyes going soft. “He’s special to me, too. Don’t worry,” he said, but I got the feeling that it was more for my ears than it was for hers. It filled me with a warm, fuzzy feeling and I had to hide my smile behind my hand. Dane’s foot nudged mine under the table. The fuzzies fluffed up even bigger.
