Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Danielle

I open my eyes and roll over. I don’t know what time it is. Or what day it is. All I know is Logan is in bed next to me, and his slow and steady breathing is the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Everything happened so fast.

We got to the hospital. Grandpa seemed like he was going to pull through. And then he was gone.

I slowly get out of bed, needing to use the bathroom. Logan hasn’t even gone home yet since he got back to Eastwood. Everything was so perfect before, and I would give anything to go back to our last night in Hawaii.

After using the bathroom, I go downstairs, following the sound of the TV. Mom is in the living room, drinking wine and watching a baking show. It’s almost four in the morning.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Danielle, honey. You’re up.”

“So are you. Did you get any sleep?”

“A bit here and there.”

I cross my arms over my chest, chilled even though it’s warm in the house. Usually, we’d turn the air conditioning up before going to bed. I hate waking up all sweaty.

But at least I get to wake up.

“Want some company?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Mom sets her glass of wine down and pats the couch next to her. Orange Cat is curled up on her lap. “Dad is on a plane right now, and Diana and Peter will be here on Tuesday for the memorial service. You know it was your grandpa’s wish not to have a traditional funeral, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, he mentioned it a few times. Said they were a waste of money and he just wants his ashes scattered in the field where Grandma’s are.”

“It’s fitting.” Mom’s eyes get watery. Both her parents are gone now, and that has to feel so sad and so strange.

I sit on the couch next to Mom. “I made a bunch of Grandma’s pies a few weeks ago.”

“How’d they turn out?”

“Logan liked them. The apple was better than the peach, but I used canned peaches instead of fresh like the recipe said to.”

“Grandma always used fresh everything. She was one of the healthiest eaters I knew, and that was back before clean eating was a fad.”

I smile, looking from the TV to the framed photos of Grandma and Grandpa on the wall. “I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you. And been so proud, just like Grandpa was. And he was so, so proud of you, Danielle.”

My throat gets all tight as I try not to cry. “I’m really going to miss him.”

“I know.” Mom puts her arm around me. “I know. But it’ll get easier.”

I nod because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Tell myself that it gets easier. Remind myself that Grandpa lived a long, good life.

Say it was his time. That he’s with God now. Reunited with Grandma.

But it doesn’t make it any easier.

*

“Hey.” Logan steps into the kitchen, looking at the mess all over the counter. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed anymore.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I look out into the living room at Mom, who fell asleep on the couch. It’s going on nine-thirty AM now. “And I couldn’t sit still.”

Logan comes over to the counter, sliding one hand over my back. “My mom bakes when she’s upset too. She says it keeps her busy, and cupcakes make everyone happy.”

I smile, wiping flour off my hands. “I’m nowhere near as good at decorating cakes as your mom is.”

“I don’t care how they look as long as they taste good.”

“Agreed.”

Logan pushes my hair out of my face. “How are you doing?”

“I think…I think I’m okay.”

“It’s okay not to be okay right now,” he says gently.

“I know.” My eyes fill with tears again, and I wrap my arms around Logan. My chest tightens and a strangled sob escaped my lips. He holds me tight, standing there for as long as I need him to. When I’m able to breathe normally again, I straighten up and look into Logan’s eyes. “I’m tired,” I confess.

“Go upstairs and lie down. I’ll clean up.”

“I don’t want to make you—”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

My throat feels tight again and I nod, knowing if I open my mouth to talk there’s a good chance I’m going to start crying. I go upstairs and get back into bed. Usually, I lie awake thinking about everything that upsets me, worries me, or makes me anxious.

But right now, I feel nothing.

And I don’t know if the numbness is worse or better than the bad feelings.

Eventually, I fall asleep. Mom wakes me up a few hours later, saying Dad is here and brought pizza. Logan stays and eats with us, and then goes back to his place to change and shower. I miss him as soon as he’s gone.

Everything happened so fast with Grandpa…and also with Logan.

We went to Hawaii as friends. And we left as…I don’t know. We’re not just friends anymore. I feel more for him than I’ve ever felt for anyone. I’m not in the mental space to start worrying about changing my relationship status on social media, and I don’t think Logan and I need a label like that anyway.

Because he’s still my best friend…who’s now my boyfriend.

I think.

We slept together multiple times and holy hell, it was good. I want to do it again…just when I’m not so sad.

After showering and changing into sleeper shorts and an oversized t-shirt, I go downstairs and find my parents at the dining room table. Dad is going over Grandpa’s finances. The farm has been paid off for years, and while Grandpa didn’t have much, he had just enough saved up to live off of while still caring for his animals.

“Hey, honey,” Mom says, looking up from the papers. Dad closes a folder as soon as I step into the room. “Did you get some rest?”

I shake my head. “I did shower, though. I’m going to go check on the horses. Their stalls need to be cleaned, I’m sure. Guess I’ll be taking another shower.” I look around the house, knowing it’s going to be so weird and so quiet once my parents leave in a few days.

The thought of being here without grandpa makes my heart ache all over again.

“Do you remember Sandra Harris?” Dad asks as he stacks the papers.

“From your work? Yeah.”

“She’s pregnant and is due any day now. She plans to take twelve weeks off and then come back.”

“Why are you telling me this?” A weird hollow feeling starts to rise inside me. I know exactly why Dad is telling me this, and that’s not what’s causing the feeling. What’s causing the feeling is that in the back of my mind, running away from the farm seems like it would be easy.

I wouldn’t have to be alone in this house, being reminded over and over that Grandpa is gone. People wouldn’t look at me with pity and give me sad smiles while asking how I’m holding up.

It’s my thing to do when the going gets tough. Run away as fast as I can, giving myself a head start before my problems catch up with me.

But the thing is…they always do.

And this time…this time leaving would hurt even more than staying.