"Wait." I held up my hand. "What happens if we refuse treatment?"
"Oh nothing, dear, don't be such a worrywart." She licked her lips and hid her smile behind her tea cup.
"Jace," I tugged his shirt, "sit."
"No, I'm not—"
"Sit, or so help me God, I'm going to revive that goliath spider and put it on your pillow."
Swearing, Jace sat back down.
"What does therapy entail?"
"Communication," Grandma said smoothly. "Knowing your partner."
"But we aren't partners."
"Six days," Grandma whispered.
"What?" Jace asked. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." Grandma clapped twice, the lights dimmed and classical music began playing in the background. "Now close your eyes."
Jace swore again.
"Stop swearing, son, it makes you sound simple-minded."
"Did she just call me stupid?" Jace whispered next to me, his lips grazing my cheek.
"Pfft." Grandma chuckled. "If I wanted to call you stupid, I would just say it to your face."
"Right."
"Jace?"
"Yes, Grandma?"
"You're being stupid."
Jace cursed again.
"See?" Grandma grinned triumphantly. "Now, both of you, close your eyes. I'm going to give you a sample of what therapy will do for you. Take it or leave it, but don't make your decision until tonight. Agreed?"
"Fine," I said, teeth still clenched.
Jace nodded.
"Good." Grandma clapped once more, causing the shades to pull down the large window, blanketing us in utter darkness.
&nb
sp; Great, just what we needed, to be vulnerable in the dark with Grandma.
"I want you to feel," Grandma instructed. "Beth, put your hands on Jace's legs."
Slowly, I stretched out my hands and placed them on Jace's thighs.
"Jace, turn toward Beth so it feels more comfortable."