“Hey, Grant,” I say, peeking my eyes up to him.

“Um huh,” he mumbles, continuing to stare at the road ahead. The snow appears to be flying into our headlights.

“How did your mom die?” I can’t believe I just sprung that on him. I really should have gone about this slower, but subtlety has never been my thing.

His arm tenses around my shoulder before relaxing slightly. “Cancer…ovarian,” he reveals.

“How old were you?” His body shifts, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the subject.

“Fourteen,” he says.

“That’s her picture on your desk?” I question, sensing this is going to be a very short conversation.

“Yeah.”

“She’s really pretty. You look a lot like her.” I glance up at him, taking in his blonde hair and mesmerizing blue eyes he shares with his mother.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he tells me, moving his arm from around me to hold the steering wheel tight.

“You’re both gorgeous,” I say, trying to lighten the conversation up a little. I have no idea what it would be like to not have a mother. Or worse, watching her die. That’s the one thing Sadie told me that Brady had revealed to her. Grant pretty much watched his mother wither away from the disease.

“You’re gorgeous.” He smiles down at me for a brief second before turning his attention back to the road.

“Whatever,” I say and knock him with my shoulder.

“You have no idea how you look in my eyes, do you?” He’s speaking seriously, gazing down at me. “It’s not just your looks Jessa. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It pours out of you when you walk into the room. People can’t help but notice you,” he states and I actually want to cry, his words are so sweet. No one has ever said anything like that to me. Sure boys have told me how hot I am, but what does that really mean? Pretty much that they want to fuck me, that’s what.

Things with Grant are different than anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m really starting to like it. It’s nice to have someone to take care of me, and I can take care of them in return. Even though things are progressing extremely fast between us, I’m alarmed again how it all just feels…right.

We’ve hit the hills of Pennsylvania and I can tell that the roads must be slick from the way the truck slides a little when we turn. I’m used to driving through the mountains of Colorado, but they take good care of their roads. Here, not so much. Some of the roads are barely plowed, leaving patches of ice everywhere. Passing a few rundown houses, Grant turns into a small gathering of houses clustered together. Going up one of the hills, Grant finally stops and I release a breath now that we’ve reached our destination safely.

It’s a cute, blue cabin with more windows than siding. A long, front porch wraps around from the front door to the back of the house, and I’m eager to explore. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why I’m falling for him. The fact that he took time away from work and school to bring me here means more than I can express.

“Come on,” Grant urges, tugging my hand. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

I imagine my eyes are dreamy as I follow him into the cabin. Swallowing hard, I stare at the back of his short blonde hair, feeling the warmth of his strong hand in mine. There’s no denying I love him, but there’s also no way I’m telling him.

Chapter 10

Grant

I forgot there’d be more snow up here and I pray my truck makes it up this hill, which is steeper than I remember. Fortunately, the old beast holds its own, but Jessa looks terrified so I reach over and grab her hand. She quickly tosses it back to me.

“Are you crazy? Both hands on the wheel,” she shrieks and I chuckle.

“I’ve driven up here plenty of times,” I assure her.

“Where are we anyway?” she asks, her frightened eyes looking back and forth out the windows. No doubt the icy and dark roads make her nervous.

Her question takes me back to when I first learned about this lake house. My mom told me about it in my high school graduation letter:

Grant,

Congratulations, my high school graduate! I’m so proud of you. I hope you’ve picked the college you want to attend, and not just Western because that’s where Dad works. Maybe you even have a basketball scholarship. You love basketball so much.

My present to you i s my family’s lake house. I have enclosed the map to get there, along with the deed and the key. It’s yours, Grant, to do with what you want. Your father knows that I am leaving it to you, understanding it was something I wanted you to have. I love your dad and I didn’t want to upset him, but the house means a lot to me. Knowing that you’ll have a piece of something I loved so much brings me peace of mind.

You decide what you want to do it with it , honey, it’s yours now.

Congratulations again. I love you, sweetheart.

Love,

Mom

XOXO

After I read the letter, I hopped into the truck and drove right up here. Of course, it was summer then so the trees were full of leaves and the lake, cool and inviting. I inserted the key into the door and was surprised to find it occupied. I hurriedly said my apologies and shut the door, thinking I had the wrong house. Jogging down the steps, I realized my key had fit so it must have been the right house. I walked up the steps once again, knocking on the door this time. When the man opened the door for me, I introduced myself. He informed me that his family was renting the cabin and told me where to find the guy he rented it from.

Three houses down, I found a beige house with white shutters and a wooden sign that read ‘The Fletchers’. A rocking chair occupied one side of the porch and there was a double swing on the other.

I rang the doorbell, hearing faint footsteps echo from the other side of the door. When it opened, I was completely taken aback.

“Mrs. Fletcher?” I questioned, astonished to see her standing in front of me.

“Grant, how are you, son?” she asked casually, clearly expecting me.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked her. “My mom left me a letter…”

“I know, dear, why don’t you come in and have something to eat,” she said with sympathy in her tone, motioning me inside.

I remember following her into the house, noticing that it was decorated identically to her house in Western. Mrs. Fletcher, a neighbor of the Carsen’s, watched us when our parents went out together and always gave us snacks and juice when we were little. Since neither Brady or I had grandparents, she was like a pseudo-grandma to us.

She sat me down at the round oak table before grabbing a pitcher from the fridge, along with two glasses and some banana bread.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher,” I said, pouring us both a drink and accepting the slice of bread.

“You’re welcome.” She took the chair next to me and placed her hand on mine.

I stared down at her weathered hand and then looked back to her. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

“You’re grandma was my best friend,” she revealed. “We grew up here together.”

“How come you never said anything before?”

“It never came up.” She shrugged her shoulders, staring out the window and I assumed she was remembering my grandma, who died a year before I was born.

“So, the house? The occupant told me a man rented him the house,” I questioned.

“Yes, my brother. He lives here permanently, and I travel back and forth during the summer, spending most of the winter here. Your mother put us in charge of the house until you turned eighteen. We’ve kept up the grounds and inside for you. These houseguests will be gone tomorrow, so why don’t you stay with us tonight and then we’ll go over after they leave.