Page 5
“Really?” I challenge. “Because from where I’m standing, you walked into a situation that was none of your business, swept in to save the poor helpless damsel in distress, who couldn’t handle her own problems, and then somehow you expect me to be grateful.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Is that what you think I did?”
“It’s exactly what you did,” I retort, reaching out to poke him in the chest.
I quickly let my hand drop when my finger comes into contact with what could best be described as steel. Is he wearing armour under that dress shirt?
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and for the first time since he walked into my grandmother’s room, I see a crack in that effortless confidence.
“Actually, it’s not what I did at all,” he says. “I simply read the room, sweetheart, and gave an old woman her dying wish.” The way he says it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, makes my blood boil.
“You don’t even know her.”
“No, I don’t,” he replies. “But I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and if I can give a human being a little comfort before they leave this earth, then I don’t see the harm.” The sincerity in his voice gives me pause, but a second later, he ruins it by saying, “You’re welcome, by the way.”
My mouth drops open in disbelief because the smug bastard couldn’t help himself.
He gives me one last assessing look before shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and walking away.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath.
He doesn’t even look back. And the worst part? As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right about one thing. My grandmother is the happiest she’s been in a while. I just wish it hadn’t taken a complete stranger to make that happen.
I remain rooted to the spot, staring at his broad back until he disappears around the corner.
The moment he’s out of sight, I let out a long breath and hang my head in shame because the truth is, I’m grateful for what he did.
He walked into a situation that had nothing to do with him and gave my grandmother something she desperately wanted … reassurance that I won’t be alone when she’s gone.
And how did I thank him? I acted like a complete arsehole.
That’s so out of character for me, maybe because admitting he helped me means admitting I needed help. And I hate that.
I have to work tonight, I’m supposed to start soon, but I’ve hung around long enough to feed Nanna her dinner. Her appetite has declined rapidly over the past few weeks, so she no longer eats a lot, but I know she’ll force down as much as she can for my benefit, hence why I’m still here.
I’m going to have to make a run for it if I want to make the bus, but thankfully, I managed to finish one of my university assignments while Nanna slept today.
I’ve put everything on the line to graduate at the end of this year. The finish line is in sight, and I can’t afford to drop the ball now.
Truthfully, I can’t afford much of anything.
The first three years of my law degree were covered by a HECS debt, but there’s a limit to how much you can borrow. When I hit it, Nanna took out another mortgage on her house so I could complete the final three years.
The thought still makes my stomach twist. My grandparents spent their whole lives paying off that house, and now, because of me, Nanna is carrying debt again.
The least I can do is make sure it’s worth it.
I study hard and work multiple jobs, surviving on determination and far less sleep than is probably healthy because failure isn’t an option. Everything rides on passing my final exams.
When I finally become a lawyer, because there’s no other alternative, my first priority will be paying off that loan. I’d never consider selling the house once Nanna’s gone.
My grandfather built that place with his own hands. Every brick, every wall, and every room holds a piece of my family’s history. Some of my happiest memories were made there. That house is more than just a building. It’s home.
Once Nanna holds up her hand, letting me know she’s had enough to eat, I place the fork back on the tray and reach for my backpack.
“Is there anything else you need before I go?” I ask, hoisting the strap over my shoulder with an audible groan.
It feels twice as heavy as usual today, stuffed with library books I borrowed for one of my research papers. Between university, work, and spending every spare minute I can with my grandmother, I feel like I’m carrying my entire life around in this bag.
