Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (68)

“We’re not in a rush.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

We come up over the next hill and my heart lodges in my throat. We drop to the other side, and thank goodness there’s no tractor, Amish buggy, or deer. I’m worried, but I do like that she wants to hang out with me like this. I always loved visiting her, but it’s been different these past two months. Her house was starting to feel like a second home to me—until we packed it all up—and I’m going to miss it. I hope it’ll be just as fun visiting at her new place.

“I can’t believe you have an indoor pool at your new retirement community. You’re so lucky. Do you think they’ll let me swim there too?”

“You can take my place. I don’t like getting my hair wet.” Her face twists in a scowl.

“Grandma,” I say, half frustrated, half amused. “There has to be something you’re looking forward to there.”

“No, there’s—” She grins. “Never mind, I take that back. There is something I want to do when I get there.”

“Yeah?” She takes another curve too quick, but it’s easier to ignore when we’re talking.

“I want to gather some of the other folks and have you teach us all to play D&D!”

My eyes bug out. “Are you serious? Why?”

“You all seem to have so much fun with it. I can’t follow half of what you’re talking about or why you’re always rolling dice, but I’d like to pretend to be an elf or a dragon or something. Henry always did call me his dragon.”

“You could play a dragonborn character,” I reply, but my mind is still reeling at the idea of playing D&D with Grandma’s elderly friends. “I’m surprised you’re so interested. I didn’t—” My brain finally catches up and processes her words. “You’ve been watching the livestreams?”

“I have a computer,” she says defensively. “Andrew had to show me how to find it, but I wrote down the directions and now it’s my latest Saturday activity.”

I rub my hands down my face. “Are my parents watching too?”

“My understanding is they like to drink tea while they listen.”

I groan, utterly mortified to discover my entire family has been watching the games, but also a little…touched. I didn’t think they cared.

“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

Grandma accelerates on an open stretch of road and I clench my jaw.

“We knew you’d be embarrassed. But we wanted to be involved.”

I swallow down a lump in my throat. “That’s both mortifying and very sweet. And—if you really want—I guess I can try to teach you? The rules can be complicated, though.”

I’m about to launch into more explanation, but yellow road signs catch my attention. They line the edge, warning that a big curve is coming up…like a ninety-degree curve that you need to take at twenty miles an hour or slower. But Grandma is going double that.

“Grandma?” I say, my voice rising and my right foot pressing into the carpet of the car as if I can press on a secondary brake pedal and slow us down. “Grandma, the curve!”

But it’s too late. Her reflexes are slow, and the car is already going much too fast when she slams on the brakes. The tires squeal and the back end of the car fishtails. We both scream as the car spins and slams into one of the signs. I’m jolted forward, then back into my seat as we come to a complete stop.

I sit frozen, my heart beating painfully fast in my chest and my hands braced on the door and driver’s seat. Slowly, like I’m moving through water, I turn to Grandma. Her hands are gripping the steering wheel, her head is against the headrest, and her eyes are wide with fright.

But she’s alive and that’s the only thing I need to know.





Chapter Twenty-Seven





“Are you all right?” she whispers without moving a muscle.

Her voice unlocks something in me, and I shake out my arms before swiveling to her. I take a second to move each part of my body, but luckily I don’t feel any pain.

“I’m fine, just shook up. Are you okay?”

My mind runs wild with possible horrible outcomes. The impact of the car could have given her whiplash, a spinal injury, who even knows all the terrifying possibilities.

“I’m okay,” she whispers. “I…think I’m okay. That curve came out of nowhere.” Her voice is wobbly.

I put a hand gently on her arm. At least she’s breathing and talking and not moaning in pain.

“Do you want to try to get out of the car?” I ask. “See if you can walk around?”

She nods and we both unbuckle and gingerly get out. My legs are shaking enough that I’m not sure they’ll hold my weight. But there’s no pain, and I’m intensely grateful to see she isn’t limping or wincing. I take a deep breath.

“Oh my,” she whispers, and bends down to look at the car. The back right side hit one of the signs and…it’s bad. The sign is mangled, as is her car. The back is crunched and the tire is wonky.

We stare at the car in silence for a moment. “How are you, Grandma?” I ask quietly.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”