Grant didn’t say anything as I switched so the strawberry was in front of him and the vanilla in front of me.
“So you started a free football program for kids, hand out free jerseys to your adoring fans, gave my mom a funeral she didn’t deserve, and took care of an aging woman until she passed.” I circled my straw around my shake a few twirls. “Where did the troubled, hot-headed boy I grew up with go?”
Grant stared at the wall. “He’s still right here. He’ll always be a part of me.”
I didn’t know how my hand found its way into Grant’s, but it did. It was a reflex, reaching out for him when the past seemed like it was right smack in front of us. His large hand enveloped mine, looking like it had almost swallowed mine whole. The warmth radiating off his skin transferred to mine, spreading into my core. I’d always known I carried a piece of Grant with me, but I didn’t realize how many pieces until I felt them all resurfacing from the sensation of his touch. I could feel his presence everywhere—in the depths of my lungs, the tips of my fingers, the hollows of my heart.
Our greasy baskets of burgers and fries arrived a few minutes later. Diners trickled back in sporting new jerseys, swinging by to thank Grant and wish him luck at his next game. The jukebox played song after song until most of the restaurant was empty and the open sign flashed off. The whole time, Grant’s and my hand stayed joined.
“We should probably let them close up.” Grant shoved off the stool, pulling me up with him, which was a good thing since I felt like I’d swallowed a bowling ball’s worth of fries. When his hand unwound from mine to pull out his wallet, he casually slipped a large bill from it and tucked it beneath one of the empty baskets.
“Big softie,” I muttered, waving at Francis and a couple of the cooks as they called good night to us.
Grant kept a straight face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I laughed as we walked out to his truck. Not a single jersey had been left behind, but someone had taken the time to collapse the boxes and tuck them neatly into the bed of his truck.
We didn’t say anything as we left the parking lot, and our silence continued as Grant headed back to my motel. It was just after midnight, and I knew I had precious minutes left to tell him what I had to.
There’d been moments at dinner when I’d had an opportunity, a brief moment of silence between conversations, but each time, fear paralyzed me. I knew Grant was confused, because I’d been the one who’d asked for this whole thing to talk and yeah, sure, we’d talked, but not about anything more deep than how the winters up in New York had taken him a while to get used to and our speculation that Mickey’s had changed something in their fry seasoning. The conversation had rolled between us easily—it always had—but we’d talked about everything besides what I needed to actually talk with him about.
When he pulled into the motel’s parking lot, I checked the time yet again. He was going to be on a plane, traveling back to New York, in less than six hours. Who knew if I’d ever see him again? Who knew if he’d ever want to see me again? Tonight had gone smoothly and I knew we’d both enjoyed being together, but I also knew we could both feel the pain of the past. I could see the scars on him as plainly as I could see them on myself when I looked in the mirror.
When Grant came around to open my door, his eyes met mine and I almost said it right then. The words were forming on my lips, then a tremble rocked my body and I practically fell out of the cab. I would have if Grant hadn’t been there to break my fall.
“Whoa, easy. Too many milkshakes for you it looks like.” Grant kept his arms around me until he was sure I’d regained my balance. “Good thing you had a DD.”
I had to force the smile because I didn’t feel like smiling, despite the joke. My whole life, I’d prided myself on being strong. Well, my whole life since I’d met Grant and he’d shown me how to be strong, both on the outside and the inside. But here, when I most needed to be strong, I could barely muster up a thimble-full of courage to draw on.
Grant walked me to the door, and he lingered there as I fumbled with the key.
“So we’re okay?”
When I turned around, I found him rubbing the back of his head, staring at the concrete at my feet.
“We’re, you know, friends?”
It was right then that I felt it. The strength I thought had abandoned me. It reminded me of why I needed to do this, what was riding on it, and suddenly, the words came easily.
“I need to show you something,” I said, my voice unwavering as I knocked on the door and waited for Cruz to come unlock the arsenal of locks.
Grant’s face creased with confusion as he checked his watch.
“It’ll only take a minute,” I said, although I knew it wasn’t so simple.
When Cruz pulled the door open, he didn’t look surprised to see Grant standing behind me. Cruz looked a bit surprised when he inspected Grant’s face though, like the expression on it didn’t match the one he thought he’d find. “Everything went just fine,” he said, pulling on a corduroy sports coat. “So I’ll be on my merry way to leave you kids alone.”
“Thank you.” I gave him a hug in passing. “I appreciate everything.”
Cruz and Grant shoulder-bumped each other in passing.
“Oh, don’t get too thankful. It will cost you.” Firing a wink, Cruz flashed a wave and headed for his car.