“And they’d all be true.”
More than Sara realized. Grant was a failure and a screw-up. The military had changed him, but nothing could fix his fundamental personality. He broke promises and let down the people who loved him. Like Pop.
You need to protect your mother, always. Take care of her. Promise me.
Grant glanced at the house. What was Mom doing now? This morning she’d stared blankly at the television and completely ignored Grant. It killed him to see his mother trapped in her own mind, in a dark place he couldn’t reach.
He focused back on Sara. “I’m helping because it makes zero sense to leave Ben sitting at school when I can give you a lift. Let’s go. My SUV is across the street at Aunt Suzie’s house.”
Sara stood there for a moment seeming to wrestle with the options but finally decided to let logic win over her emotions. She wrenched open the driver’s side door of her Honda, reached in, and unearthed her purse.
Slinging the ridiculously large bag over her shoulder, she headed across the street. Grant followed. He caught a whiff of her springtime scent, and his heart skipped a beat.
Distance. This is why he needed distance.
He fished the fob out of his pocket and hit the button. His SUV beeped. Grant widened his steps, overtaking Sara and opening the passenger side door for her. She glared at him. “I’m capable of opening my own doors.”
“I’m aware.”
She closed her umbrella and hopped into the SUV with a huff. He circled the vehicle and got inside. While pulling out of the driveway, he adjusted the heat to high and turned on the heated seats. Sara’s bare arms were covered in goose bumps from being cold and wet.
Sara’s fingers drummed on the door panel. They stopped suddenly, and she frowned. “Why is your SUV parked at your aunt’s house? Aren’t you staying with your mom?”
Leave it to Sara to notice, even as ticked off as she was. Grant kept his tone casual. “My trip home was unexpected, and Mom turned the guest bedroom into storage, so it was just easier to stay with Aunt Suzie.”
Half-truths. His life was full of lies and half-truths.
Sara narrowed her gaze but didn’t say anything more for the next fifteen minutes. Grant intended to keep his eyes on the road, but his attention kept being drawn to Sara. The long line of her leg, the curve of her cheek, the bow of her lip.
Every part of him was aware of every bit of her. The tense line of her shoulders and the way she gripped the door handle transmitted her anger. At some point, it morphed into worry. Sara’s back curved inward, and she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth.
It was torture. He wanted to ask her what was wrong. Was it just the library program? Or was there more to it? But after his bone-headed move in his garage, Grant didn’t really have the right. Nor did he trust himself to make things better instead of worse.
The elementary school appeared. He joined the line of cars snaking through the carpool lane. The rain had finally stopped.
Several teachers were directing the children. Sara pointed to one. “Please stop up there.”
Grant did, and Sara hopped out. Ben ran to his mom, throwing himself into her arms, and Sara kissed his head. The love and exuberance between them squeezed Grant’s chest tight. Sara had replaced the worry in her expression for a bright smile.
Another little boy joined Sara and Ben, this one with darker hair. Grant recognized him from baseball practice. It was Michael, Rachel’s son and Sara’s nephew.
Sara kissed Michael too. Then she opened the back door to the SUV. “Hop in, guys.”
“Coach Grant.” Ben gave him a wide grin and offered him a high-five. “Awesome. I didn’t know you were picking us up from school today.”
“Hey, Ben.” Grant reached back and smacked his hand. “You don’t have to call me Coach Grant, you know. That was only for practice.”
The little boy paused. “Do you not like it?”
Grant considered the question. He didn’t mind being called Coach Grant. It was a little like being an uncle without the official title. “No, I don’t mind. Keep calling me Coach Grant.” He fist-bumped Sara’s nephew. “Hey, Michael.”
The next few minutes were spent making sure the kids were strapped into their seat belts correctly, then Grant pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”
“My house, first. The boys have a sitter who comes and watches them until everyone gets off work.” Sara typed something in her cell phone. “I’m letting Mrs. Lyons know we’re on our way home and that we got a lift from a friend. Otherwise, she might see a strange car and worry.”
Grant asked Sara for her address, since he’d never been to her house before, and plugged it into his GPS. The boys were laughing in the backseat about something, but he couldn’t make out what.
Sara twisted around to face the backseat. “How was school today?”
“It was fine.” Ben wrinkled his nose. “Except you packed apple slices in my lunch. Mom, I hate them.”
She frowned. “Since when?”
“Since yesterday.”
Grant smothered a laugh and flipped on his blinker. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Ben had a riot of curly hair, like Sara, but the rest of his features were all Jared, right down to the hazel eyes and dimple in his chin.
The light changed. Grant took a left turn. “Hey, Ben, what about the joke I shared with you yesterday during baseball practice? Did you tell your friends?”
“Oh yeah, and they loved it.” He bounced in his seat. “Mom, did I tell you the joke?”
“Umm, I don’t think so.” Sara tapped her chin with a finger as if in thought, before dropping her hand. “You must’ve forgotten. Go ahead and tell me.”
Grant could tell she’d already heard it several times, but she was going to let Ben tell her again because it made him happy. Sara was an awesome mom.
He glanced in
