Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (69)

I shake my head and turn toward her. “No, I mean, how are you actually doing? With…everything. Because if I didn’t know better, I’d think maybe you were…running from something. And taking me along for the ride.”

She purses her lips, which makes the small wrinkles around her lips more apparent. “Someone thinks they’re a therapist today.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

She rolls her eyes and does the same. “It’s hard getting old, that’s all, especially when I still feel like I’m thirty. It’s hard not being able to do all the things you want, not being able to plan as far into the future because you don’t know what’s coming. And whatever is coming, it’s usually not going to be good.”

“We moved here and that was pretty good.”

“Yes, that was the best.”

“So maybe there’s more good stuff on the horizon. You might be getting older, but you’re still…I don’t know, young-old to me. You can make new friends, start new hobbies. Life doesn’t have to stop when you move in.”

“It’ll be a different life, though.”

“Yeah. But different doesn’t mean bad.” I stare at the contorted car, but I’m thinking about my new school and friends. “Sometimes different is better.”

“Particularly when you’re sixteen.” She squeezes my hand. “Life’s so short. It doesn’t feel that way all the time, I know, but even after living for seventy-five years it feels short. I want so many more years than I’ll ever get.”

I want to argue with her, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m not sure I can fix this for her. Instead, we hold hands and stand together in silence. Birds chirp around us, getting ready for spring. There’s the distant hum of a car engine. She shakes herself.

“All we can do is live it.” She looks straight in my eyes, her expression almost stern. “Live your life, Quinn. Every minute of it. Don’t drift through it—live it.”

Her eyes are wet, and it absolutely breaks my heart to see her upset. I pull her into a gentle hug. “I will,” I whisper.

We step apart and she pats the car with a little moan. “This poor thing.”

“I don’t think you can drive it home.”

Her shoulders hunch. “No, you’re probably right.”

“I’ll call Dad.” I reach in my pocket for my phone.

“No.” She puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t call him.”

I hesitate, and something about the ridiculousness of this situation makes me laugh. Our roles should be reversed. I should be the one breaking rules, driving recklessly, getting into accidents and then begging people not to call my parents. But instead, it’s my feisty, gray-haired grandmother. I laugh again and she cocks her head at me.

“Did you hit your head, hon?”

“No, it’s just…” I shrug. “Were you this bad as a teenager?”

That does make her laugh. “Oh no. I’m much worse now.”



* * *





Grandma isn’t happy about it, but I call Dad, who promptly calls the police and a tow truck. Dad pulls up behind us just slightly after the police officer arrives, but I don’t ask how much he was speeding to get here.

“Thank god you’re both all right.” He pulls me into a hug and then Grandma.

I almost joke about him cracking one of my ribs because his hug is too tight, but his twitching eye tells me he’s not ready to see the humor in this yet.

The next half hour is a blur as we explain what happened first to the police officer and then again to Dad. When there’s finally a lull, Grandma tugs me away from the others. “Why don’t you see if one of your friends can pick you up? It’s going to be a while until the tow truck driver gets here and finishes with the car. Your dad can take me home.” She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe Logan would give you a ride?”

My stomach tenses. I don’t know the road we’re on, but we were driving in the general direction of his house before the crash. He might not live far from here.

If I call him, I know he’ll come. He’d come even if we were on the other side of town. Or the state. But it feels wrong to tell him we shouldn’t be in contact and then turn around and ask him to drop everything for me.

“He’d want to know you’re okay,” she adds.

I stare at my screen and then text before I second-guess it. Today has been a lot, and he’s the one I want by my side.

His reply is almost immediate, saying he’ll come.

“Eric,” Grandma says to Dad. “One of Quinn’s friends is going to pick her up so she’s not stuck here with us.”

Dad turns from the officer and blinks—clearly too overwhelmed to take in more information. “Do I know the person? Are they going to drive safely?”

“It’s Logan, and yes, he’ll drive safely,” I reply.

He purses his lips. “Okay. That’s probably for the best.” He kisses the top of my head and returns to his conversation.

“Thanks,” I tell her. “But please try not to say anything embarrassing when Logan gets here.”

“When have I ever done that?”

I start ticking off examples on my fingers and she cackles.