Page 19 of Feels Like Falling
“I just know how much you like it.”
“Some things never change,” he grumbles but puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her back into the kitchen. “Miss Celeste made cookies this afternoon.”
“The thumbprint ones?” I ask as I grab the tea kettle and fill it with water. I’d tried getting one of those electric kettles, but Grandad had pitched a fit so I’d put it in one of the rentals.
“With blackberry jam,” he confirms, and I barely suppress the moan that wants to escape.
“Is she in tomorrow?” Ellison asks as she swipes a cookie off the plate and takes a bite. “Oh my gosh, who is this baking angel from heaven?”
Grandad narrows his eyes at me as I pull mugs from the cabinet and shrug. He can be mad all he wants, but he knows she’s the only thing keepin’ him here full-time.
“My grandson thinks I need a babysitter,” he says pointedly, causing Ellison to freeze midbite as her gaze ping-pongs between us.
“Yourgrandsonthinks he needs help keepin’ you outta trouble,” I reply and watch as he meets my gaze and shoves an entire cookie into his mouth. I don’t add that I need Celeste to help make sure Grandad takes his pills on time and listens to the doctor more than once in a blue moon.
I am barely keeping myself alive most days, and now I have the added responsibility of keeping Grandad alive too. It’s a lot of pressure, but I’m doin’ everything I can to make sure he sticks around. My grandfather easily could have passed away after Nan did. They’d been together almost their entire lives, and I wasn’t sure he knew how to live without her.
Selfishly, I wasn’t ready to let him go, and if suffocating him with love and attention and getting someone to tag team my efforts keeps him here, then so be it.
“I had my hip replaced, boy. Stop makin’ it like I’m old and frail.”
I snort because the man had been a menace postsurgery, insisting he help milk the cows and that he was fine to tinker around the farm. He smirks and shakes his head, but I’m thankful that it breaks the tension.
“So who is this mystery woman who keeps you boys in line?”
“Celeste Hadley,” I say as I pour hot water into each mug. “There were five or six traveling nurses before Celeste, but Grandad chased them off.”
He harumphs but doesn’t correct me. Celeste had been our last-ditch effort. She’d put him in his place before she’d even sat down and impressed the hell out of both of us.
“That sounds nothing like you, Grandad,” Ellison says with doe eyes and the fakest surprised expression you ever saw.
He looks at her with amusement dancing in his dark blue eyes and pats her hand.
“She lives in the cottage,” I continue. “When I need to go anywhere for the farm and whatnot she stays here in the guest room.”
Ellison eyes me for a moment before turning her attention to Grandad. “Well, I’m glad you have someone here who loves you enough to fuss over you because these cookies are life-changing.” Placing her hand over his, she squeezes it, her voice completely sincere as she says, “Don’t break my heart, okay?”
“Of course not, Dolly.” Leaning over, he places a kiss on her temple without releasing her hand. “When you’re old you get to complain—that’s all. Montana works hard so that I can stay on our land. I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Good,” Ellison says, and I know she’s swallowing down just as much emotion as I am. I know he means it but it’s nice—reassuring—to know he understands what’s at stake if I can’t keep him safe here. Accepting the mug of chamomile and lavender tea, she launches into story after story of her kindergartners’ shenanigans until we’re laughin’ so hard we’re crying.
How long has it been since I had a night like this?
Not for the first time tonight, this thought has played through my mind. So much of my childhood and teenage years were wrapped up in the gorgeous brunette sitting across from me at this very table. My grandparents had treated her like their own, and while my sisters were out chasing boys and spending days at the lake, Ellison was here with me on the farm.
Grandad had taken great pride in teaching her about the land and the animals. On the days we worked until the sunset, he’d be waiting on the porch with three glass bottles of cola. It was a special treat, and I’ll always remember the way that first sip felt when it passed my lips.
It’s a memory I haven’t thought about in years but one of my favorites.
We talk well into the morning hours, and when Grandad yawns again, I break up our little reunion party and help him to bed. He’s lighter—we both are—than we have been in a long time, and it’s all because of the girl currently walking toward my room.
The one with long tanned legs, no bra, and wearin’ my shirt.
The one about to be platonically sleeping in my bed.
Dammit all to hell.
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