Chapter 27
Tori
In between working back-to-back shifts at the Neon Possum and Kai’s extra practices and study sessions for his finals, I’d barely seen him all week. As a result, I was already in a less than stellar mood when Gran ambushed me.
She was reorganizing the pantry which, for the record, was not at all unusual. She believed the pantry was a ‘living organism’ requiring ‘seasonal feng shui’ to maintain good cooking karma.
I believed it was a cabinet that needed to stop assaulting me with rogue boxes of pasta.
She held up a can of tomatoes like it was a grenade.
“Tori,” she crowed, “we need to talk.”
Oh God.
Those were the five worst words in the English language.
I froze halfway through pouring protein powder into a Tupperware container, my eyes widening.
“About … what exactly?”
Gran tucked the can under her arm, crossed her arms, and gave me ‘The Look’.
The same one she used at my middle school parent conference when she told the principal I had ‘anger management skills, not issues.’
“You’re hiding.”
I blinked. “… from what?”
She snorted. “From life. From joy. From opportunity. And, most importantly,” she said dramatically, pausing for effect, “from that lovely slab of Australian beef you’ve been climbing like a tree.”
I inhaled my protein powder.
“Gran!”
“Oh, spare me.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I was born in 1938. We invented climbing trees.”
I slapped a hand over my face. “This is not happening.”
She marched closer, poked my chest with the tomato can, and declared, “You’re using me as your excuse.”
My hand fell and I gaped at her. “…what?” I threw my hands in the air. “What—what's that even supposed to … seriously, Gran? Seriously?”
“You heard me.”
Poke.
“You tell yourself you can’t have a life because you have to take care of me—”
Poke.
“—which is absolute nonsense, because I’m perfectly healthy and extremely irresistible. Men drop like flies around me.”
“From heart attacks?” I glared at her.
“From longing,” she corrected haughtily, fluffing her hair.
I huffed. “Gran—”
“No. Listen.” She put down the tomato can, cupped my face in her hands surprisingly gently, and said softly, “You deserve to live your life while you have it, darling. Not after I’m dead. There’s no need to worry about me.”
My stomach twisted. “Gran, we’re barely staying ahead. The bills, the repairs, your prescriptions—”
“Darling.” She squeezed my cheeks in her hands. “If it weren’t for you wanting to go to college here, I would’ve sold this old house the minute the roof started shedding shingles like autumn leaves.”
I was so startled, I temporarily forgot to breathe. “You … what?”
She gave me a look like I’d just confessed the sky was green. “Developers have been circling this property for years. Buzzing around like overeager bees with checkbooks. You’ve seen the notes they leave on the gate.”
“Yeah, but—you always ignored them. I thought—”
“I ignored them because it wasn’t the right time,” she simply said. “Because you deserved stability.” Her thumb brushed my cheekbone. “If I sold this place, I’d be set. More than set. I’d be a menace with disposable income.”
Something hot pricked behind my eyes and my nose tingled.
“If it's money worrying you every night — stop. We’re not drowning. Not even close. And if we ever were? I’d sell the house before you missed a single bill.”
Something unclenched in my chest, something old and tight and always on alert. I exhaled sharply and it felt as though the tension I’d been holding onto left my body at the same time. Gran watched me with a smile.
“You’re using me because you’re scared, not because I actually need you,” she ascertained softly. “Terrified of loving somebody who might leave you behind again.”
The words hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken. When I didn’t respond, she held my face more firmly. My fucking mouth felt like someone had thrown a handful of protein powder sans milk in there.
“Just because that man left you and your mom doesn’t mean all men will treat you this way.”
I blinked rapidly, grinding my teeth to keep a hold of my emotions.
“It’s just … he’s only here temporarily, and everything is complicated, and I can’t—”
“Yes,” she cut in. “Yes, you can. And you already are.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t want to get hurt.”
Her tone grew even more gentle. “I know.” Bony fingers gripped my shoulder encouragingly. “But hurting is part of loving. You can’t avoid pain without avoiding joy, too.”
I hated the fact that she was right.
What I hated even more was how it already felt as if my heart had made the choice for me.
Gran gently patted my cheek twice, then returned to rearranging canned goods as if she hadn’t just set off an emotional bomb in my chest.
“Now go live your life, darling. And stop using your poor old grandmother as a human shield.”
“You’re eighty-seven. I don’t think you’d actually be my first choice, as far as human shields go,” I teased.
“And I look sixty at most.”
“I’m so lucky to share your genes,” I deadpanned.
“You certainly are. They used to write poems about me, back in the day, you know?” She peered owlishly over her shoulder. “Now get! Go on and get your man.”
And if that wasn’t the most terrifying thing I’d ever heard, then I didn’t know what was.