Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
The next morning, I woke up to a text from Gram asking if I was coming to Sunday dinner. I glanced over at a sleeping Foster. He looked younger, more carefree in his sleep. But he was still disheveled from last night, and the sight of him made heat curl low in my belly.
I considered waking him up for round two, except there was something more important than sex that I wanted from him.
I pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
“Mmm.” His arm wrapped around me and pulled me flush against his body. “I could get used to waking up like this,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
I closed my eyes and snuggled deeper against him, soaking in his warmth for a second before I worked up the courage to speak. “Foster, can I ask you something?”
He opened one eye and then the other when he must’ve seen the serious expression on my face. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if maybe you’d come to Sunday dinner with me tonight at my grandma’s house?”
The smile that spread across his face was so bright it could light up the entire hockey house. “Are you asking me to meet your family?”
I nibbled my lip. “Yeah.” Why was I so nervous about this?
Maybe because I’d never brought a guy home to meet Gram before, or even talked about liking guys before.
This was a big step for me.
Seemed to be the theme of the weekend.
He hugged me tighter and dropped a tender kiss to my forehead. “I’d be honored. What time should I pick you up?”
And just like that, all my worry about seeing Gram and facing the reality that she might be seriously sick dissipated because no matter what, I wouldn’t be alone.
My nerves ramped up as Foster pulled into my grandmother’s driveway that evening. The familiar farmhouse looked exactly as it always did—weathered white paint, wraparound porch with the swing my grandfather had built decades ago—but everything felt different with Foster beside me.
I knew he came from a rich family, and while I didn’t think he’d judge me for coming from more humble beginnings, it felt like bringing him really put a microscope on our different upbringings.
“You okay?” Foster asked, turning off the engine. “Your leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since we left campus.”
I glanced down and then put a hand over my knee to stop from jittering. I gave him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
Foster reached across the console and took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Hey, look at me.” When I did, his eyes were warm and steady. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
I squeezed his hand. “Thank you again for coming.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”
We got out of the car, and he grabbed something from the backseat before he came around to my side.
“You brought a bouquet of flowers?”
He shrugged. “My mom always taught me to never show up empty-handed. I thought your grandma would appreciate flowers since you told me she likes gardening.”
“These are beautiful, Foster,” I said, surprised by his thoughtfulness.
We walked up the porch steps and before I could even reach for the doorknob, the door swung open. I froze mid-step, stomach dropping. Mason stood in the doorway, arms crossed like a sentry, his expression unreadable as he sized Foster up.
“Hey, Mase,” I said, but he didn’t even look my way, his focus still on Foster.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice deeper than I remembered.
Had Gram not told him I was bringing someone? I’d told her over the phone when I confirmed I was coming so she’d know to set an extra place at the table.
Foster extended his hand. “Foster Kane. Nice to meet you.”
Instead of taking it, Mason narrowed his eyes. “And who are you to my sister?”
“Mason!” I hissed, mortified. What on earth had gotten into him?
To my surprise, Foster didn’t laugh or brush it off. He kept his hand extended, meeting my brother’s gaze directly. “I’m her boyfriend, and I hope we can be friends too. It’s nice to see she’s got other people looking out for her.”
Mason studied him for another long moment before finally shaking his hand. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll find a way to ruin your life.”
“Mason James Walker,” I scolded.
“I’d expect nothing less,” Foster replied as if I hadn’t said anything.
I stared at my brother in disbelief. This was the most focused and direct I’d seen him in years—since before we lost Mom.
Mason caught my stare, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but the closest thing to it I’d seen in forever. “Gram is in the kitchen.”
He spun around, but before he could go back in the house I grabbed his arm. “How is she?” I said, keeping my voice low because I didn’t want Gram to hear.
And just like that, all his confidence faded. “I think it—whatever it is—is getting worse.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
When we entered the kitchen, the rich aroma of Gram’s lasagna filled the air. She stood at the counter with her back to us as she arranged garlic bread on a baking sheet.
“Gram, they’re here,” Mason announced.
She turned, and my heart squeezed painfully.
Her presence filled the room like it always had, but now, it felt like she was holding herself together through sheer force of will.
Mason hadn’t exaggerated—if anything, he’d underplayed how bad she looked compared to the Gram we were used to.
Her clothes hung loose where they once fit perfectly, and dark circles shadowed her eyes next to sunken cheeks.
Her smile was still filled with warmth, but it looked like it took effort when it had always come easy before.
I couldn’t ignore what I was seeing with my own eyes. Gram was sick.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron before approaching us.
Foster stepped forward with an easy smile. “Mrs. Thomas, thank you for having me. I brought these for you.” He handed her the bouquet of flowers he’d brought.
“Oh my, how lovely,” she said, accepting them with a beaming smile directed at Foster. “And please, call me Gram, or Daniella if you insist on being formal, but as you’ll see, we’re all pretty casual around here, and Mrs. Thomas makes me feel ancient.”
She glanced at me with approval before turning back to Foster. “Would you help me reach the vase on that top shelf? My old bones don’t stretch like they used to.”
As Foster helped her, I caught Mason watching me with an odd expression.
“What?” I whispered.
“He seems decent,” he muttered back.
I had to bite back a laugh. What a ringing endorsement. Seemed Gram would be easier to win over than my brother. Although I suspected that once they got talking about sports, Mason would love Foster.
Dinner was surprisingly comfortable. Gram asked Foster about hockey, his family, and his studies.
I watched in amazement as he charmed her completely, helping serve the food and complimenting her cooking with genuine enthusiasm.
As dinner progressed, my nerves about bringing a boy home had dissipated while my fears about Gram’s health had only increased.
“This lasagna is incredible, Daniella,” Foster said after his first bite. “I think it might be the best I’ve ever had.”
Gram waved him off, but her pleased smile was unmistakable. “Oh, it’s just a family recipe. Nothing special.”
“It is special,” I insisted. “Mom always said your lasagna could end wars.”
The mention of Mom brought a momentary silence to the table, but instead of the usual heaviness, it felt almost reverent. Foster’s hand found mine under the table and squeezed gently.
“So, Foster,” Mason said, breaking the silence, “you’re the captain of the hockey team? That’s a big responsibility.”
Foster nodded. “It is. But we’ve got a great team this year.”
“Do you plan to play professionally after college?” Gram asked.
Something flickered across Foster’s face—the same expression I’d seen when we discussed his future before.
“No. It’s rare for a club hockey player to go pro.
I just play because I love it. I’ll actually be taking over my father’s business when I graduate.
” His expression soured—just for a second, like he’d swallowed lemon juice and was trying to hide his reaction.
“Is that what you want to do?”
“It’s what my dad wants.”
“And what do you want?” Gram asked, her gaze sharp despite her frail appearance.
Foster hesitated. “I’m not really sure. That option was never on the table.”
“That’s what your twenties are for,” she said with a smile. “To figure out who you are. Not just who you’re expected to be.”
After we finished eating, Gram shooed the boys out of the kitchen. “Mason, why don’t you and Foster go in the living room and get to know each other a little better? Abby can help me with the dishes.”
My grandma wasn’t old-fashioned and normally had Mason do dishes. So if she was keeping me behind instead, it meant she wanted to talk in private.
My nerves rose. This was the moment I’d been waiting for and dreading in equal measure.
Once the guys left, I started clearing the table. “Dinner was really nice, Gram.”
“He’s a good one,” she said, running water in the sink. “I can tell by the way he looks at you.”
“How does he look at me?” I asked, curious.
“Like you hung the moon and stars.” She smiled at me. “And you look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “I am happy.”
It had been a long time since I’d been so genuinely happy, which only made the ominous dark cloud of whatever was going on with Gram even more noticeable.
We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes before I gathered my courage. “Gram, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You seem…different.”
Her hands stilled for a moment before she resumed scrubbing a dish. “I’m just getting older, sweetie. It happens to the best of us.”
“Mason’s worried about you. I am too.”
She kept her gaze fixed on the sink as she handed me a plate to dry. “Like I told you before, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Gram,” I pressed, setting down the dish towel. “Please look at me.”
When she finally turned, her eyes were guarded in a way I’d never seen before. She wouldn’t meet my gaze directly, and in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that something was very wrong.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about right now,” she said softly. “You have your studies, your new relationship. I don’t want to burden you.”
“You could never be a burden,” I whispered, my throat tight. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
She patted my hand. “Soon, sweetie. But not tonight. Tonight is for celebrating you and that wonderful young man.” She nodded toward the living room, where Foster’s laugh mingled with what sounded like Mason’s voice, more animated than I’d heard in ages.
I wanted to push, to demand answers, but the fragile happiness of the evening held me back. Not to mention that Gram’s stubbornness was legendary.
The truth would have to wait, but my fear wasn’t going anywhere. Something was wrong with Gram, and I didn’t know if I was strong enough to face losing another person I loved.