Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I am,” my little brother pouts. “They starved me the whole way here.”
“Dem pants look a little on fire, bud,” I teasingly sigh.
“Plus, they’re fightin’ and-”
“We ain’t fightin’.”
“Right, ‘cause fightin’ means y’all would have to be talkin’,” Bronny meets Grams’s stare, “and. They. Ain’t. Talkin’.” His hand lifts to whisper behind it. “Eye roll emoji.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why don’t you jus’ roll your eyes?”
“That’s so cringe.”
“And why can’t you jus’ cringe?”
“That’s so basic.”
Exasperation stretches across her face prompting Gilly to suggest, “Why don’t you go have breakfast with Dubs and give him all the tea?”
“On the two of you?!” Bronny cockily begins backing out of the room. “Done. Son.”
“Not,” my head slowly shakes, “not what she meant, Bronskie.”
“You like being called Bronskie?” Dubs casually questions, ushering him out of the room.
“The boys on the team actually call me Groffs. And after I score? They chat G-A. G-A. Ya know. For Groffs attacks.”
“Yeah?” They begin to exit the large, suite-style room space. “You’re really into lacrosse, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s…pretty lit.”
“Indoor?”
“Til Feb, then we switch to outdoors.”
“Maybe we should paint your bucket? You want that?”
His answer isn’t heard due to the door shutting; although it doesn’t need to be.
I know he’d love having that.
Just like I know how he likes being on a team.
Having his own sport.
Something to call his own versus just living in my shadow.
Huh.
Kinda reminds me of the explanation I overheard Gilly giving to her brother.
Maybe that’s why he’s always been so drawn to her.
Why she has such an easy time understanding him.
Vibing.
Seeing sitches in ways I can’t.
That I don’t know how ‘cause despite always encouragin’ others to be themselves, I’ve never really dealt with not being able to be jus’ be.
“Manners, Thayne,” Grams swiftly scolds in my direction. “Act like you were raised wit’ some.”
It’s impossible to stop the corner of my lips from curling upward, “Grams meet Gilly. Gilly,” I gesture an open palm at the woman who looks far from healthy, “this is Grams.”
“Nice to finally meet you in person, sweetheart,” she warmly says to my girlfriend who maneuvers herself closer. “Lord knows this ain’t how I hoped it would be.”
Her fingers gently land on my grandmother’s hand at the same time she coos, “Nice to meet you too.”
“Why is this how she’s meetin’ you?” Leaning forward occurs in tandem with me folding my hands together. “Why didn’t you tell us somethin’ was wrong?”
“Why are you two fightin’?”
“Grams.”
“Thayniel.”
“Thayniel?!” gasps the beauty at her bedside. “Is your real name Thayniel?!”
“No,” she mischievously snickers, “it’s jus’ somethin’ his Gramps would say when he was in real big trouble.”
“Which I shouldn’t be.”
“You are.”
“Why?!”
“’Cause you’re deflectin’.”
“You’re deflectin’!”
“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” Grams hisses on a stern finger point. “I’ll rip these cords out and use ‘em to tan your hide right here, right now.”
“Could you jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on instead?” I exhaustedly exhale. “Please?”
“Alright,” she surrenders leading Gilly to scoot back to stand beside me. “But be warned. You ain’t gonna like it.”
“Of course, I ain’t gonna like it, Grams. You’re lyin’ in a hospital bed with tubes in your nose.”
“They jus’ fo’ show.”
“Grams.”
“Fine.” She pensively places one hand on her stomach and the other on top of it. “I was diagnosed with COPD.”
“COPD?”
“This lung disease thing that means I have trouble breathin’.”
Concern crinkles my face. “Wh-wh-when did that happen?”
“Earlier this year.”
“This year?!”
“What did I jus’ say about your volume?”
Swallowing down the urge to shout immediately grows in difficulty; however, having Gillybean’s hand supportively plant itself on my shoulder makes it a bit easier.
Like having a defenseman actually do his job near the crease.
Once my composure is at a more manageable level, I ask, “How much earlier this year?”
“Start of it.”
“And now we’re at the end of it, Grams.”
“I am well aware of how time works, Thayne.”
“Then please tell me why I’ve been unaware all year about this disease you’ve apparently had.”
“’Cause I didn’t want you to know.”
“What?! Why?!”
“”Cause I wanted you to live your life and not worry about what’s left of mine.”
“Grams.”
“Doc said it was stage two meanin’ I’d be dealin’ with some shortness of breath and bit of tiredness and maybe some liftin’ issues-”
“Your cough…” My eyebrows dart to the ceiling. “That steady cough you kept blamin’ on allergies? Was that part of this?”
“He might’ve mentioned that could happen.”
There’s no stopping my head from slowly shaking.
“The forgetfulness?” Gilly investigates. “Is that part of it?”
“That…was prolly on the list too.”
“Grams.”
“Anyway, I got the feelin’ pretty early on, it would be bes’ to start gettin’ everything in order for…” rather than finish the statement she simply pauses. Offers me a sympathetic smile I can’t stomach. “I filed paperwork for my will. My finances. The ranch. What to do when we got to this stage. All that was left to sort out was Bronson, so when he went and got himself mixed up in trouble, it seemed like the right time to jus’…initiate that.”