Large log cabins set back from the road on generous plots of land gave me something to focus on as the view blurred from the speed of our car. The driver's GPS told him when to turn, which was good, because enough had changed in the three years since I'd visited that I would have missed the turn had I been driving.
I tilted my head when I saw the green metal roof come into view. She was at the base of the foothills, so the gentle curls of smoke coming out of the chimney had a lush green backdrop as the mountains pushed their edges into the skyline.
Molly said something under her breath to Marty, and he laughed, cutting into the thoughtful silence I'd immersed myself in.
"How long has your grandma lived out here?" Rick asked.
My eyes closed briefly because I knew I'd need to shift my headspace. This wasn't just a grandson paying a long overdue visit to his grandma. This was intentional, to show a side of me that no one believed existed. Thinking about the public intruding on this moment, when I already felt guilty enough about not coming to see her more, I had to keep reminding myself why this was a good idea. Why I'd agreed.
"Her whole life," I answered. "But this house specifically, for the last four years."
"When you started in the league." His statement left no room for subtlety.
I glanced back at him. "If you're going to ask something, Rick, just ask it."
He grinned.
Molly's eyes were covered in blue-mirrored sunglasses, and I wanted to rip them off her face because I couldn't tell what she was thinking or if she was even listening in the first place. Instantly, I flipped my attention back to Rick as we approached my grandma's because I shouldn't even be worried about whether she was paying attention.
"It's a beautiful place," he mused when the driveway appeared, as did the sprawling cabin with a massive wraparound porch. Two black and white horses grazed in the fenced-in area north of the house. Who knew where the goats were, probably in the barn that was partially obscured by the house. "Big, just for one woman."
"She didn't want to feel cramped," I said, the edges of a smile starting on my mouth as the car pulled over the gravel driveway. The porch was covered with all shapes and sizes of potted flowers and plants. Along the east edge of the roof, a line of wind chimes swayed in the breeze.
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?
I was setting the photo back when her cool, firm fingers wrapped around mine and wove our hands together.
"You're here now, Noah," she said quietly. "That's what matters."
My jaw clenched tight, and I found myself nodding. Briefly, I allowed my fingers to tighten around hers, an anchor I hadn't asked for nor had I expected, but still had a hard time letting go of.
As I extricated my fingers from he
rs, the brush of skin on skin had me breathing unevenly.
Ridiculous.
That was the problem with choosing a celibate life, wasn't it? One small touch of her skin on mine had me desperately trying to rein in every caveman impulse galloping through my flimsy veins.
Carrying her suitcase for her, I showed her the main guest room across from the family room but was smart enough not to follow her in. My eyes landed briefly on the king-size bed as she laid her suitcase on it.
And still, I closed the door to give her some privacy as I brought my own things downstairs to the bed my grandma had assigned me for the next two nights. It wasn't as big, and it wasn't as comfortable, but I couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief that there was an entire flight of stairs separating me from Molly.
By the time I came back upstairs, they were all sitting down at the long wood table as my grandma served up fragrant spoonsful of tender roast and gravy. It was the kind of home-cooked meal that I never got unless I took the time to make it myself.
Upon her firm instruction, Marty had set the camera aside for our first meal. No gadgets allowed at the table, she’d said. The way Rick smiled, I knew they'd already planned to give us this one meal of un-filmed interaction, but at least they were kind enough to let her believe it was her idea.
The evening sped by quickly, despite how late the sun started setting in the summers. The five of us talked and laughed easily, my grandma telling stories of what I was like as a child when I visited in the summers and over spring break with my dad.
Rick asked questions, and even though I knew he was doing it for the purpose of the documentary, whether the camera was rolling or not, nothing felt forced or uncomfortable.
The whole meal, and the cleanup afterward, when Molly insisted my grandma go relax on the couch so the men could pull their weight in the kitchen, had a warm, steady feel to it. Like we were sitting on a docked boat on a calm lake.
There was a gentle ebb and flow to the conversation, instilling such a drowsy sense of comfort that I felt weigh my eyelids down once the kitchen was cleaned and I was able to sprawl out in the recliner that used to belong to my grandpa.
"Who's getting up with me in the morning to feed the horses?" Grandma asked.
Molly grinned. "I will!"
My gaze sharpened on her face, something I'd hardly allowed myself to do all night. "Seriously?"
"I love horses," she said earnestly.
"Do you love getting up at sunrise?"
She grimaced, and we all laughed.
Grandma got up out of her chair and kissed Molly on the top of the head. "If you're up, you're up, but I'll forgive you if you decide to sleep in, sweetheart."
The easy show of affection surprised me, and it clearly surprised Molly because her cheeks pinked as she glanced up at my grandma. "Okay."
I got up and wrapped Grandma in another hug. "G’night."
She patted my chest again, probably because she was too short to reach my face. "G’night, half-pint."
Marty snickered under his breath, and I quelled it with a glare.
Rick made his way to bed too, leaving me, Molly, and Marty.
Molly got up and walked to the windows, where my first telescope was still sitting. She glanced at me over her shoulder. "Yours?"
Nodding, I joined her even though I kept a safe distance between us as much due to Marty's presence as my own sanity. Mainly my sanity, I thought as I caught a whiff of her fruity shampoo. I wanted to bury my entire face in that head of hair.
"She bought it for me when I was twelve." I leaned over and lined up with the eyepiece, then pulled back to adjust a few knobs on the side to fix the focus. More than likely, it had stayed untouched for years. When I looked through again, I hummed. "Come look. You can see Virgo."
"Really?" She hurried over and leaned down. "How do I know what I'm looking at?"
"The brightest star, Spica, is the starting point along the bottom. Then you follow one more star up to Parrima. That’s another easy one to spot."
She hummed. "They all look pretty sparkly to me."
I laughed. "I'll show you what it looks like on a diagram. Once you know the shapes, it's easier to pick them out."
Molly straightened and gave me a curious look. A silky chunk of her hair slid out of her ponytail and curled down her neck. Before I knew what I was doing, I picked it up with two fingers and rubbed the edge of my thumb against her hair. Her mouth opened with a jagged inhale, and her eyes darted past me to Marty.
Right.
I dropped her hair and stepped back.
"I'm pretty tired," she said carefully. "And I really do want to help your grandma tomorrow with the horses."
My hands curled into fists to keep from reaching for her. My mind wouldn't even allow itself to process what I'd do once I did. As she said her good nights, I turned back to the window.
In one short evening, it felt like this place had ruthlessly dismantled every mental barrier I kept tied tight to myself.
"Feels like we're in another universe, doesn't it?" Marty asked. He was clueless as to what was going through my head.
"It does," I agreed. "I needed this more than I realized."
He got off the couch and patted me on the back. "Good."
Marty bid me a good night as well, and I stood by the window, watching the stars get brighter and brighter as everything around it continued to darken.
Except I wasn't trying to place the stars or follow lines or find the patterns that I knew as well as the lines on my hand. All I could do was think about Molly in the room just to my left.
The water turned on in the bathroom, and I pinched my eyes shut as I imagined her washing her face, then changing into whatever it was that she slept in before she slid between the sheets of the bed that was normally mine.
Nothing here felt normal.
And most disconcerting of all was how much I wasn't bothered by it.
There was no checklist and no schedule.
No rules to follow, other than the self-imposed ones. That lack of structure should have made me feel uncomfortable. But instead of discomfort coursing through me, it was restlessness.
An edgy sort of energy that had no outlet. It was the way I felt before a game. On those days, I could strap on pads and my jersey, tape my fingers and tie my cleats, knowing I'd work myself to exhaustion on the turf. I'd tackle and run and hit and find a safe place to put everything that I kept locked down so tight during the week. And those sharp bursts, like a gunshot going off, kept me calm and steady once I was done.
But this ... this was torture.
At least thirty minutes had passed before I heard the slow turn of the doorknob.
My heart took off, and I held myself as still as possible. Maybe she wouldn't see me standing in the dark, given only one small lamp was still left on over the stove.
I tried not to breathe, tried to meditate or calm my energy or whatever that one yoga video tried to teach me to do to relax. Because if Molly saw me, she'd speak to me. If she spoke to me, if I spoke to her, I might touch her.
And if I touched her, I'd lose the tiny, fragile grasp I had on my control.
When had she frayed it down to nothing?
I was around for all of it, every interaction, and I'd hardly noticed her severing each individual strand.
Her soft footsteps padded toward the kitchen when she inhaled sharply.
"Noah," she whispered. "I didn't see you at first."
I dropped my chin to my chest and breathed deeply. "Sorry."
Go back to bed, go back to bed, go back to bed, I wished feverishly in my head. I couldn't turn. I couldn't look at her. Not even for a second.
My whole body tensed as the sound of her bare feet came closer.
"I-I couldn't fall asleep."
What strange intimacy was created in moments like that one. Something about a dark room and whispers. Knowing that no one could see us, knowing that she had already stripped herself of the confines of the day,
ratcheted that tension coursing through my body higher and higher, something bright and fierce.
My eyes were pinched closed so tightly as she stopped next to me that I saw bursts of white behind my eyelids.
I probably looked ridiculous.
"Don't you want to know why?" she whispered. "I could hardly sit still wondering if you were out here, if you were alone."
"Molly," I begged. I didn't even know what I was begging for.
Touch me.
Don't touch me.
Give me permission to do this thing.
Lock the door on your bedroom so I'm not tempted to splinter it to shreds for getting between us.
"Look at me," she begged right back.
Slowly, I peeled open my eyelids and looked down at her. Her face was bare, and her hair, that glorious hair that I loved so much, was in messy tumbles around her bare shoulders. Bare, save for thin straps of a white tank top. Her legs, bare, save for impossibly small white and pink shorts.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
My lungs, they'd stopped working properly at the sight of her.
"Doesn't it feel like …" She stopped to lick her lips. "Like this is inevitable?"
"What?" I rasped. She was so beautiful in the dim light that my vocal cords stopped working too. I wanted to devour her.
"You and me," she answered quietly. Her eyes were huge in her face, and they searched mine so deeply that I felt it in the slow turn of my heart. "Even if it's just ... here."
I blinked. "Here?"
She laughed quietly. "This may be the dumbest idea I've ever had, but I was tossing and turning in that bed, trying to figure out a way to make this make sense in my head. You and me, thrown together like this. And now, in this place that's so far removed from every complication. I can't stop thinking about that kiss, Noah, and whenever you look at me, I know you can't either. I don't see how it's possible to leave it at just that. Not with how good it was."
My hand lifted slowly, and I slid it against the silky skin of her neck, allowing my fingers to tangle in her hair as I cupped the back of her slender neck.
"What are you saying, Molly?"
Molly lifted her chin and hit me with the full force of her gaze, the full force of whatever decision she'd come to before she walked out the door.
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