“Zane Thackeray, I know I raised you better than that. I might not have been a shining example of trusting people when you were younger, but Celeste is a beautiful young woman, and that makes her an easy target.”
“Relax, Grams, I’m sure she’s fine.”
But now she’d planted a little seed of doubt that let a trickle of guilt in.
I’d gone too far saying all that shit to her. But it was the only way I could control the situation. The only fucking way I could remind myself that I hated her. That she was everything that was wrong with the world.
“I thought maybe you’d cell phone message her.”
“You mean text her.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, it isn’t.” I smirked.
“To-may-to. Tom-ah-to.” She winked, the cloud over her expression melting away a little.
“You know Grams, you need to tell me when you don’t feel right.”
“Oh hush, I am quite cap—”
“This is important. I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
“I am not a complete invalid yet, dear.”
“I know that. But we can’t pretend your symptoms aren’t getting worse.” I took her hand in mine, hating how frail it felt beneath my fingers. Sometimes it was hard to remember she wasn’t even seventy yet.
“What did Mr. Clarkson say? You never did tell me yesterday.”
“Because…” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“It’s my job to worry about you. Now, tell me.”
“The insurance isn’t going to pay for the new treatment. There’s a couple of options but I’ll still need to find a percentage of the cost.”
“You mean we. We’ll need to fi—”
“Zane Thackeray, you listen to me, and you listen good. This is my problem, my sweet boy. I won’t have you worrying about it or doing anything stupid to try and help. I need you to focus on school and graduate. You hear me?”
“Grams, I can—”
“No, Zane. I… I did not bust my ass raising you so that you could throw away your high school diploma.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “It’s important to me that you graduate, and it should be important to you too.”
“I don’t need a diploma to work down at the mill, Grams.”
“And that is exactly why you need to graduate. Because you are worth more than that.”
She said the words, but I didn’t feel them. I couldn’t. I wasn’t blessed with the smarts like Celeste or the football skill to go all the way like Nix. Even if I went to college—and it was a big if—I had no idea what I would study. Because I didn’t look into the future and dream.
This was my hand. Looking after Grams and working some dead-end job.
She lifted a shaky hand and laid it on my cheek. “My stubborn headed, strong boy. What am I going to do with you?” Her eyes crinkled with sadness.
“Don’t worry about me, Grams. I’ll be okay.”
I always was.
* * *