That was when I saw it—the anger buried inside Grant Turner emerged. The kind of anger most people never came close to experiencing. The kind a person learned from living one cruel reality after another. The kind learned so early on in life it became a part of them—something they always carried, no matter what measure of peace they eventually found in life.
That was when I saw the boy of my childhood in the man sitting before me.
Surging out of his chair, he sent it crashing to the floor. He was across the room in two strides, his arms winding around his head as he paced the kitchen like a lion recently caged.
“Goddammit.” He whacked the doorway with his elbow as he passed it. “GODDAMMIT!”
“Please, Grant . . .” I spun in my chair, my eyes shifting to the dark hallway. “She doesn’t know.”
Mid-step, he rolled to a stop.
I swallowed and shook my head. “Charlie doesn’t know.”
His arms fell back at his sides, looking like they were suddenly too heavy to hold up. When he exhaled, his shoulders dropped like they were trying to fall to the floor. “Oh god. This is why . . .” His finger moved between his chest and down the hall, another piece of the puzzle snapping together.
“I had every intention of bringing you two together one day, but yes, fate forced my hand in making it sooner rather than later.” My eyes burned, but they stayed on him. “I wanted you two to get used to each other, to form a bond, to be a part of each other’s lives, because one day, you’re going to be her life. Her whole life.” I spoke each word slowly, purposefully. This, above everything else, was the most important part for him to understand. This was the whole reason I’d come back. “I know this is a lot to deal with, and I know how much I’m asking of you and that I have no right given the way I cut you out, but will you consider it? Will you think about it?”
His eyes, which had been glaring holes into the floor, lifted. The anger was still there—as impressive and searing as always—but there was something else too. Resolve. Determination. They were emotions I was just as used to seeing in Grant Turner as anger.
“There’s nothing to think about.” His head shook. “If the time comes for me to take over, I’ve got it.”
Something squeezed inside my chest. “When. When the time comes.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “When it comes, I’ll be there for Charlie. I’ll be there for you.”
Before I realized it was coming, I choked on the sob that had risen in my throat. I’d known how relieved I’d be if Grant agreed to look after Charlie once I couldn’t, but I never could have prepared myself for the weight that lifted from me. The way my lungs felt capable of filling instead of feeling like they were constantly fighting collapsing. The way the thought of my death seemed less daunting.
“Being a single parent, it’s not easy.” I turned in my chair to face him. “Are you sure you don’t want to give this some thought first? I didn’t have a choice in the matter, but you do.”
“Charlie is my daughter. That isn’t a choice. She isn’t a choice.” The edge had drained from his voice, the same fading from his expression.
As quickly as the beast had broken from its cage, Grant had locked it back up. He’d grown up a lot in seven years. Probably as much as I had, and I’d been the one raising a child.
“Besides,” he continued, “you did it for seven years, having her when you were a teenager and putting yourself through school when she was a toddler. You did the hard part. I can manage the rest.” He worked up a smile, but it felt as contrived as the one I tried to return.
“You do realize she’s going to become a teenager, right?” My eyebrow lifted.
Grant held his smile, huffing. “No, she’s never turning into one of those.”
“Good luck with that,” I teased back.
Pushing off of the wall, he crossed the kitchen toward me. “I’ve got it, Ryan. So put that concern aside. It’s one less thing to worry about. I’ve got Charlie. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
When he stopped in front of me, my smile was all real. “Thank you,” I breathed. “You have no idea . . .”
He nodded as he looked like he was working something out. He turned a few circles, rubbing at his forehead. “Fine. Okay. You and Charlie are moving up to New York with me,” he said as if it was all set. “There are good doctors up there. I can take care of you. We can all be together.”
My face flattened. “Grant, no. This isn’t why I did this. I wanted you to meet Charlie and form a relationship so when the time came for me”—I had to look away—“to go somewhere else, she wouldn’t be alone. I wanted you to be a part of our lives whenever you could fit us in, not for us to take over your whole life.”