“I’ve had mutton before.”
“Eww, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything but eating cute goats.” Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I suddenly get the feeling that Netflix and chill is an option. On one hand, I want that—I want it so fucking bad my nut sack aches—but on the other I don’t want to fuck this, whatever this is going on between us, up.
“Right here,” she says when I come across a colorful building with beautifully kept grounds, and elderly people sitting on benches.
I park, and we exit the vehicle. She frowns when I circle the truck to meet her. “What?” I ask.
“Grandma, she has dementia, so she might not recognize me at first. I just don’t want you to be alarmed.”
“Okay,” I say.
Her smile is in place when we step inside and sign in at the front desk. “She would have loved to talk hockey with you, though. She and granddad were fans.”
I adjust my ballcap, but I’m sure I have nothing to worry about. I’ve only been playing five years, probably long after she stopped watching. With my head tipped, I follow Alyssa down the long hall and into her grandmother’s room.
The TV is on, some game show playing, but her grandmother looks like she’s fast asleep. Alyssa checks on the flowers in the vase and plucks a few dead petals before sitting down. She gestures for me to take the chair by the window. I sit, and my heart pinches as I watch her. Her grandmother was obviously a very important person in her life, considering the fact that she visits every night, whether the elderly lady knows it or not. It’s the sweetest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. Alyssa takes her grandmother’s hand, and I shift my chair just to be a little closer.
“What a day I had, Grandma,” she says and smiles at me. “This city boy who barely knows how to drive hits my trailer. But no worries. No damage done to me or the vehicle.” Her grandmother stirs a bit. “Then he actually helped me plant some fruit trees. He’s a bit bossy and what an ego.”
“Vincent, is that you?”
She gives me a pained look. “Vincent was my grandfather’s name,” she says quietly.
I put a supportive hand on her shoulder, and she tenses for a brief second before giving me a smile full of appreciation.
“It’s me, Grandma. Alyssa.”
Her grandmother’s eyes open, and a smile touches her mouth when she gazes at her granddaughter. “Alyssa,” she says. “I was just thinking about you.”
“How’s your day?” she asks.
Cloudy blue eyes shift from Alyssa to me, and I swear to god, I see a measure of recognition in them when her gaze zeroes in on me.
“This is Alek,” Alyssa explains. “He’s the one who accidently hit my trailer. Alek, this is my beautiful grandmother, Rose.”
“As pretty as your name,” I say and Alyssa leans toward me.
Rose chuckles.
“He’s a real charmer,” Alyssa says, and as soon as the words leave her mouth, Rose frowns, her gaze narrowing in on me.
“I know you,” Rose says.
“Yes, it’s Alek,” Alyssa explains.
“Alek. The charmer,” she says and looks down, like she’s going back inside herself, searching for recognition, and my heart lodges somewhere in my throat. This is hard on Rose, but it’s as equally hard on Alyssa, and while I don’t know her, I know enough that I want to make this easier for her—let her lean on me a bit. Not only because I sense she’s as alone and as lonely as her grandmother, but she’s been lifting the load herself for far too long.
“Would you like me to read to you?” Alyssa asks, and reaches for the book on the nightstand.
“Yes dear, I’d love that.”
Alyssa gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask, completely confused.