Page 134 of Keep Me Never
The plan was never to be actively there after I purchased it, at least not yet. I knew I had to get through school first before I could dedicate my life to the youth in need, like some of my past instructors did for me. If it weren’t for youth groups and rec centers, my life would have been a lot different. Those programs and the people who ran them were one of the only ways my dad was able to work to give us a home.
I want to give back in the same way, but then the flood happened, and the damage just keeps coming. The place will be shut down and seized by the city soon.
That’s the only reason why I agreed to go away for the holiday with my grandpa, especially with Chase hurting the way he is. I think it will be good for him to finally talk to his dad about what the doctors told him.
And honestly he seemed really happy for me when I told him my grandpa’s idea.
My grandpa was so excited I agreed that he even promised we wouldn’t talk about work or the offer he made me.
Funny, considering I’m going to ask him to allow me to sign it while we’re there.
There’s a part of me that worries Chase won’t understand, but I’m hoping once I give him all the facts, he will. I have to believe that.
The alternative is just too devastating.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Chase
The steakhouse is a chill spot. Big, wooden barrels line the walls, and upside-down mason jars repurposed as light fixtures hang from above, offering a warm light. It’s the kind of place my mom would have picked on a family night out, if only a little more expensive than she would have been willing to pay for.
Of course, Grant secured the best seat in the house, a table separated from all the others, up close and personal in the center curve of the large window. Outside it is a massive garden lit up by soft lanterns, creating what I would consider a more romantic backdrop, but looking around, I’m seeing more business-style dinner parties than date nights, so what the hell do I know?
Paige laughs from her seat beside me, and my eyes are drawn her way.
She’s telling him the story she shared with me last night, about the Christmas performance she helped coordinate this past week after the parents who signed up bailed at the last minute.
“I almost slipped during a turn, but I caught myself. The whole routine went off perfectly after that, though.” Her smile is easy, her laughter light as she recounts the moment.
Her grandfather chuckles, leaning back in his chair, his voice deep and steady. “Well, that’s a good save. But you have to admit, that’s the kind of thing you make look easy, Paige.”
I smile at them both, watching Paige. “I saw the video. Youwere the cutest Nutcracker on that stage. If only you were the tallest,” I tease.
“Hey!” She bats my arms, and I catch her by the wrist, kissing her knuckles briefly. “Smooth, Mr. Harper.” She narrows her eyes, but there’s a playful spark in there. “But also, who knew third graders could be so tall?” She laughs, picking up the last piece of bread on the platter just as our meals arrive.
We continue chatting, Grant sharing some stories about Paige’s mom when she was little, and judging by the softness that falls over her expression, it’s the first she’s heard them. Discreetly, I reach under the table and give her thigh a little squeeze. Her hand promptly covers mine, repeating the sentiment.
We’ve just declined dessert when Paige excuses herself to the restroom, and Grant turns to look at me.
“You’re a hard man to get ahold of.”
“I didn’t know you were trying, sir.” I chuckle.
“Chase,” he says, his voice low but clear, “we need to talk.”
I blink, caught off guard by the abrupt change in tone. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he shifts in his seat, his body now angled toward my own. “I know about your situation.”
My stomach tightens, and I take a breath, trying not to let the sudden shift rattle me. “My situation?”
He doesn’t immediately respond, just watches me, waiting.
For a split moment, I wonder if Paige told him about my diagnosis, but the thought disappears as fast as it comes.
She would never.
But there’s something in his expression, something that now that I’m staring at it, trying to decipher, I wonder if I’ve seen it before—careful calculation. It’s like he’s weighing every word. I don’t know why, but my pulse picks up, a subtle tension settling in the back of my neck and it has nothing to do with aftereffects of my injury.
