Fortuity (Transcend 3)

Mom shrugs, returning her attention to the deviled eggs spread out on several plates on the table. “Knowing won’t stop anything. And it won’t make it any easier to leave.”

Before I can respond, Morgan and Gracelyn come down the stairs, giggling about something. When they see me, their smiles vanish. It’s not the effect I want to have on either one of them. It sucks.

“Well…” Gracelyn nods toward the screen door. “I’m just going to see if my mom needs help finishing up. We can probably have Mr. Hans start the grill soon.”

As she goes to turn, Morgan throws her arms around Gracelyn’s waist.

“Oh …” Gracelyn says on a startle.

“Thank you,” Morgan whispers.

“You are in trouble …” my mom whispers in a singsong voice so only I can hear her.

“You’re welcome.” She hugs Morgan back and kisses the top of her head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Gracelyn

“How did it go?” Mom asks when I walk into the kitchen.

I answer her with an unexpected hug from behind like the one Morgan gave me.

She pauses her stirring of the brownie batter. “Whoa … what is this all about?”

“I wanted to be a mom,” I whisper in her ear, resting my chin on her shoulder. “Brandon and I were going to have two kids, a dog, and goldfish. I wanted the chance to be awesome like you. Maybe not with the apron, but still pretty awesome.”

She laughs on a tiny sob, resting the spoon in the bowl and covering my hands with hers.

“I hate that Brandon is gone. I hate that Kyle and Emily died. I hate that Gabe lost the two most important people in his life. But…” I draw in a shaky breath “…I’m going to love him like a mom would love her son. I’m going to give him everything I would have given my own children. This is the most heartbreaking way to come into motherhood, but I’m going to embrace what I’ve been given. I’m going to make you proud.”

She squeezes my hands. “Oh, Gracelyn … there hasn’t been a single day of your life that I haven’t been proud of you. And I’ve always known you’d be a wonderful mom. Don’t ever doubt that … and don’t ever doubt yourself.”

“We’re here for the meat,” Nate and his dad stop at the entrance to the kitchen, eyes wide.

I release my mom, and we wipe our tears and put on our best smiles.

“Is … everything okay?” Nate asks.

“Just girls crying over girl things. You two boys wouldn’t understand.” Mom winks at them before returning her attention to the brownies.

I pull the tray of prepared hamburgers from the fridge, finding it hard in my emotional state to meet Nate’s gaze. “Are the other two guys starting the grill?” I sniffle, in bad need of a tissue.

Nate takes the tray from me and hands it to his dad. “Yes. It’s ready to go.”

I stare at the floor, knowing my eyes are red. If I glance up, I’ll start crying again. Where did all of these emotions come from?

My breath catches when his hand cups my face, lifting my chin, forcing me to look at him. His dad and my mom are in plain sight. They’re seeing this. Nate doesn’t look at them. I don’t look at them.

His thumb brushes along my wet cheek, and he smiles.

Fuck you, Brandon.

Why doesn’t he say something? I’m falling in love with another man—not like I fell in love with Andy, not like I fell in love with Michael. I’m falling in love with Nate the way I fell in love with Brandon.

Heart first.

Slowly.

Completely.

Brandon never cared what anyone thought. He never hid his feelings for me, his affection, his love. Brandon wrote me love letters. He stole flowers from his mom’s garden to give to me.

Nate’s going to write me letters too. With his hand on my face, there’s no doubt they will be love letters. He steals kisses. He doesn’t hide moments like this, even though we have every reason to hide it.

If I think for one second that Nathaniel Hunt isn’t going to unintentionally break my heart when he leaves just as much as that young man in the hospital bed did years ago when he took his last breath, then I’m fucking delusional.

This is going to hurt.

“Gabe and Morgan are outside talking. You did good, Elvis.” He releases my face and turns toward his dad, who eyes us with a slack jaw and unblinking gaze.

“I’ll get the door,” he says to his dad.

David closes his mouth, swallows hard, and nods once before following his son out the door.

I glance up at my mom.

She shakes her head while walking the pan of brownies to the oven.

“What?” I ask.

“You know what.”

“He’s leaving. I’m staying. I know.”

“That’s not it.” She shuts the oven and sets the timer.

“Then what?”

Her gaze falls to my wrist as she nods once.