Focused: A hate to love sports romance(45)

The driver parked the car, and as I unfolded out of my seat, I heard the screen door bang shut.

"That you, half-pint?" she called.

Every head swiveled in my direction.

"I'm so glad I got that on camera," Marty whispered, and Molly dissolved into giggles.

When I cleared the front of the car, my grandma stood like a sentinel at the top step of the deck. Her curly gray hair was shoved down around her face by a straw gardening hat, and the frayed red ribbon told me it was the same one she'd always had. At the sight of me, her face broke open into a huge smile. I felt that smile clear down to my toes, in a way I probably should have been embarrassed to admit.

I met her halfway when she started down the steps, and her delighted laughter when I wrapped her in a bear hug and lifted her tiny frame off the ground made me feel like the Grinch on Christmas Day.

Two, three, four uneven chugs of my heart, and it quadrupled in size.

"Goodness, you're big," she said, tightening her arms around my neck. "Now put me down. I'll break a hip if you drop me from this height."

Chuckling, I set her down, making sure her feet were firmly planted before I stepped back from the inevitable grandmotherly inspection. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"They're certainly feeding you enough, aren't they?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, and her eyes were suspiciously bright as she gently patted my chest. "Good, good. Now, who are your friends?"

Rick and Marty shook her hand, and when Molly appeared from behind the car with her small silver suitcase, I saw my grandmother study her from head to toe. Her gaze never darted back to me, but it might as well have.

It shouldn't have felt so important to introduce Molly to this woman, the one who meant the most to me in the world, but it did.

"I'm a hugger," Molly said with a wide smile, "if that's okay with you."

My grandma laughed and opened her arms. "So am I, sweetheart."

As they embraced, I felt my newly enlarged heart do something strange, and without realizing what I was doing, my hand rubbed at my chest where it was drumming a little faster than necessary.

"Come on in, come on in," Grandma said, waving us up to the house. "I have supper ready to go. Figured you'd be hungry."

"Starved," I said. "What'd you make?"

She winked at me. "Grandpa's roast and my mashed potatoes."

My blissed-out groan made everyone laugh again.

The cabin hadn't changed at all since the last time I'd been there, and I took comfort in that. The couches and chairs, all faded brown leather, still had the same blankets folded along the back. The fieldstone fireplace and long oak mantle held the same photos in shiny silver frames of varying shapes and sizes. That was my grandma for you. If she found one thing she liked, whether it be pots of flowers, crocheted blankets, or picture frames, she'd fill her space to the brim with every variation.

The floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the house ushered in a hushed silence as our guests caught the view of the sun setting over the foothills.

"It's so beautiful here," Molly said. "I can see why you love it."

I glanced at her because I couldn't tell whether she was speaking to me or Grandma. My grandma was the one who responded, and that was probably for the best. "I'll stay here till I die, that's for sure. Can't imagine watching the sunset anywhere other than right here, even when there's snow as high as my head and the wind cuts right through your bones." She patted my arm. "That's what I told Noah when I saw it for the first time. This is the one, and if you don't mind, bury me in the back by the pine tree grove. Keep your funeral costs down."

I shook my head when Molly laughed.

"Where should we bring our stuff, Miss Griffin?" Rick asked.

Grandma showed Rick and Marty to the upstairs guest rooms, leaving Molly and me alone in the family room.

"You bought this for her, didn't you?"

My exhale was slow and steady. There was no real point in denying it, and at least I could be glad she didn't ask when Marty was around with his camera. When I turned my head toward her, though, she wasn't looking at me. She was studying the photos on the mantle, smiling at the varying phases of me in my youth.

"Yeah, I did." I approached the fireplace and reached past Molly, the inside of my arm brushing her shoulder as I plucked one of the smaller frames. It was of my grandpa and me, and I couldn't have been more than six. It was a few years before he died, and he'd just taken me fishing. It was the first time I caught a smallmouth bass on my own. It was tiny, and I barely kept it on the line long enough for my grandma to snap a picture, but my grandpa smiled so proudly, you would've thought I'd snagged a six-foot marlin.

"When I got my signing bonus from Miami, I came straight here and paid cash for it. My whole life, I'd heard my grandma say she wanted a little plot of land at the base of the foothills, with two horses and some goats to keep her company. The house didn't need to be fancy, just big enough to hold her family when they came to visit." My voice got rough by the time I'd forced the last sentence out.

When Molly turned, her big blue eyes full of so much understanding, I had to look away.

How did she know me so well already, that she could instantly see my guilt in what I'd just admitted?