Touching Down(31)

Grant flattened his hands on the table and leaned over so he was looking me straight on. Then he leaned in closer, until I could smell the faint scent of aftershave clinging to his skin, until I could see the flecks of bronze in his dark eyes. “You’re coming with me to New York.”

“No. We can’t.”

He cocked a brow, not blinking. “You didn’t give me a choice when you ran away and took our daughter with you. I’m not giving you a choice with this.”

“Grant, slow down. You just found out you have a daughter. You just met her for the first time tonight,” I said, having a difficult time meeting his eyes with him so close. Having a difficult time keeping my breath even and my heart from overreacting. “Let that sink in before you make any sudden decisions. Just slow down. I’m not dying tomorrow.”

Grant didn’t find any humor in my joke. “She’s my daughter. You’re her mother. I don’t need to slow anything down.” He spoke each word slowly as he stared into my eyes. “You’re both moving to New York.”

My body shook from a sudden spell of chorea, and at first, Grant’s face pulled into a wince. Then he pushed through it, his jaw setting with determination as he moved closer. He was showing me that he wasn’t scared. Proving to me he wasn’t.

Today, maybe, but in a year, five years, would he still feel the same? When I had to be strapped to a wheelchair so my limp body wouldn’t slide out of it, when my food had to be liquefied so I didn’t choke on it, when words stopped forming and I couldn’t even control my muscles enough to form a smile, would he still feel the same? Would he still have the same look of resolve?

I knew enough about Grant Turner to know the answer.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked after a minute.

“Despite whatever’s come between us, you have always been and will always remain the closest thing to family I’ve ever had.” He leaned in the slightest bit closer, making my lungs catch when I felt the warmth of his breath on my mouth. “You’re the reason I have Charlie.”

“Well, I can’t take all of the credit. You were there too.” As something that almost resembled a smirk pulled at his expression, my eyebrow lifted.

“You’re not dying, Ryan Hale.” His eyes burned with the ardency of his words.

“You might be hot shit, but not even all of your power and influence can change what’s going to happen.”

His head cocked like he was challenging me on that. “I survived eighteen years with an abusive dad. I graduated high school and college with half a brain. I made it seven years without going back to the booze. I think I’m more than capable of kicking death’s ass.”





“I DON’T KNOW why everyone complains about airplanes being so uncomfortable. I could sleep in this seat every single night,” Charlie announced, reclining in her seat beside me for the hundredth time. We were almost to New York, and the novelty of her first flight still hadn’t worn off.

“Well, not everyone gets to sit in seats as nice as the ones Grant got us.”

As the flight attendant came by again with a snack basket, I shook my head. Charlie went with the opposite response.

“What do you want this time?” I fought my smile, guessing she was making her fourth or fifth snack basket selection. Usually, I was more conscientious about what I let her eat, but this was her first flight and I was indulging her accordingly. Plus, it was strange the way death made a person reevaluate the way they lived. Did that extra junk food really matter in the end?

The answer was no. It didn’t.

“Pretzels, please,” Charlie decided after a moment’s deliberation.

“Again?” I thanked the flight attendant as he handed the bag of pretzels and a napkin to me before moving to the next aisle. “A dozen snacks to choose from and you pick your third bag of pretzels?”

“Yeah, but these are airplane pretzels. They taste better.” Charlie shrugged, taking the bag from me and ripping it open. Trying to prove her point, she held one out for me to try.

My appetite had been poor lately and was totally gone whenever I flew, but I still let her pop the pretzel twist into my mouth. “You are so very right, Charlie-Bird. Airplane pretzels are the bee’s knees.”

She gave a little giggle. “You’re so weird, Mom.”

“You’re welcome.”

As Charlie worked on her fresh bag of pretzels, I let my mind wander. It was so rare that I had a few minutes to just “be” that it felt like a luxury whenever I had the chance, even if it was just a few stolen seconds. I was usually too preoccupied planning for the future to let myself settle into the present, especially now, but ever since Grant had agreed to take care of Charlie when I no longer could, the future wasn’t so pressing.