The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,98

great cook. But … I thought we could have pancakes for dinner.”

I laugh. “Breakfast for dinner is my favorite.”

“Are you being serious?” he asks, pulling out a bowl of batter from the refrigerator.

“It’s my favorite meal of the day, no matter what time of day.”

“Do you like bananas, or do you prefer blueberries?”

I sit on a stool at the island, watching as he sets up the griddle and a frying pan. “Bananas.”

“Bacon or sausage?” He holds up both packages.

“I like bacon in sandwiches. Sausage with pancakes, so I can dip them in the syrup.”

Grant smiles. “I’ll have to try that.” He returns the bacon to the refrigerator.

“Should I do anything?” I offer, only to not be rude. I don’t cook. It goes beyond not knowing how … I’ve never tried.

“Can you get us something to drink?” Grant requests, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

I open the cabinet he indicates for glasses and pour us water from a pitcher in the fridge. “We’ll have chocolate milk with the pancakes.”

“Of course,” he says this like any other option is lunacy. “Um … can we talk about the hard stuff while I’m cooking, so the rest of the night can just be us?”

I lean my elbows on the counter. “What do you want to know?”

“What do you want me to know?”

So I tell him all of it. My mother’s heart condition, which is more than eerie, considering I’ve always believed her heart was her biggest weakness. I share what it was like to see Allie and meet her mom. This leads to the video and who knows about it. And the still-unknown reason Brendan won’t release it.

“Your life-advisor, Isaac Garner, is their illegal club’s silent investor? And he knows about the video?”

“Only that it exists. Like Parker, they haven’t seen it. Only Brendan, me and Sophia have. But Brendan knows I was in his room. I kind of went off on him when he called me, asked if he could see me in Allie’s hospital room.”

Grant exhales. “Wow. I can understand why you were volcanic.”

“Oh, the story’s not finished. But I think I should wait until you’re done with the pancakes, so you don’t burn them.”

Grant glances at me over his shoulder with a troubled expression.

“I’ll set the table,” I volunteer when the mood becomes heavier.

“Um, I thought we’d eat on the porch. I rolled down the screen siding, so the mosquitoes won’t bother us.”

With Grant’s help, I find the plates and silverware for the table. He set up a cute bistro table, painted dark blue, with two white folding chairs. The sun’s light dances in hues of gold on the lake, and several birds float on it, silhouetted in the distance. Big, fat clouds blot out sections of the sky. I stare out at the rippling water, lost in its serenity.

“Everything’s ready, but I put it in the oven on warm, so I can hear the rest.” Grant’s voice jars me back into myself. “Why don’t we walk down to the dock?”

“Yeah, sure,” I reply, wishing we didn’t have to darken this date with the rest of the story.

I leave my sandals on the porch, and Grant leads me across the lawn, down the steps to the beach and past the boat tied to the dock until we reach the end. The last time I was here, it was festive, and I was floating on a brownie cloud. I’m afraid to change the beautiful memories I have of this place with the unpleasant details of my time in Sherling.

I’m still sore from Vic’s assault—more like overused muscle achiness. I’m convinced Arden’s gross tea and mysterious ointment have helped heal me faster. But bending and lifting still hurt, and I can’t hide my discomfort when I squat to sit on the dock.

“Are you …” Grant pauses, noticing. Which doesn’t surprise me. He’s always been aware of me, able to draw the truth from me effortlessly. “This is what you need to tell me about.”

I exhale the discomfort, searching for the words. I take Grant’s hand and hold tight. “This isn’t going to be easy, so please let me just say it.”

Grant nods, his neck already reddening with distress. When I’m done, the sun is lost behind the clouds that have closed in, my story having transitioned the entire world around us into a dim and oppressive place.

Grant remains quiet for a long minute. His chest moves visibly as he fights to keep his breaths even. “I don’t care who his grandfather is; he’s not untouchable.”