died, she came to the hospital, took one look at me and left. It wasn’t a freak-out, one awful mistake that she later tried to fix,” I said and while the anger was there, it wasn’t overwhelming any longer. I’d thought so much about what happened over the last few days, all of the good and bad that followed that fateful day, and my past seemed to have lost some of its power over me.
I wasn’t that person anymore.
I wasn’t broken.
Maybe I was still dented around the sides, marred with scratches that could never be fully filled in. But who was to say that I was any different from anyone else?
“She refused to take responsibility for me,” I said, lifting my chin, straightening my shoulders, finally accepting the fact that my grandmother’s shortcomings were not mine. “Wouldn’t take me in, and I ended up in the system.”
Garret’s brows drew down farther, twin slashes of fury.
“I didn’t hear from her until my twenty-fifth birthday.” I shrugged. “Well, even that’s not true. I didn’t hear from her then either. I received a packet in the mail, very much like the one in my toolbox.”
His face was careful now. “What was in that one?”
“Legal papers for a trust that my parents had set up for me.”
Quiet then, “I’m guessing you could have used that money a lot sooner.”
I nodded. “Like when I aged out of the system, or when I was trying to find a place I could afford to live, or buy, you know, food.”
Okay, so maybe the anger wasn’t totally gone.
But now it fueled me instead of tearing me down, tempered the steel of my spine. No more of this hiding bullshit.
I was going to live.
“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get why money might have helped with those things.”
I nodded, acknowledging his point. “Right. So the answer to your questions is I didn’t know she was dying—still don’t, actually. I think she is based on the paperwork and the note she included alluding to not needing things anymore. But I’ve never actually spoken to her.”
“Never?”
“No. She’s my mom’s mom, and they didn’t have a relationship.” I shrugged. “Two guesses why based on her reaction to them passing. But she’s my only blood relative and if she is dying then . . .”
I would be alone.
But that wouldn’t change anything, would it?
She’d never been there for me. Her dying was just closing the door on her ever being able to in the future.
A sad truth, but still the truth.
Fingers brushed my cheek. “Sweetheart.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
I sighed. “Yeah, me, too. But it’s reality. My grandmother may be Fran Hancock, but she’s not family. Not really—”
“Hancock?” Garret asked. “As in—”
“The pharmaceutical company? Yes. She owns the controlling shares, if what the media says is to be believed.”
“Holy shit.”
“I know. She went from not acknowledging me to leaving her portion of a multi-billion-dollar company.”
“That’s insane.” He touched my hand, and despite the topic, heat shot through me at the contact. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said, leaving my hand there, enjoying the feel of him, the fact that I was able to have this conversation at all with him. Maybe that moment a few minutes ago had just been a weird blip. Things certainly seemed normal between us now. “I have an appointment with my attorney in a little bit.”
Maybe Plan C was possible after all.
He pulled back, eyes drifting up and over my shoulder. “I think that’s a smart first move.”
I touched his arm. “Thanks,” I murmured. “I know I’ve been dumping a lot on you and we barely know each other, but thanks for being there. For listening. I feel like I could—” My words faltered, courage failing me. Plan C might seem like a great idea, but it took no little amount of balls . . . and maybe more progress than I’d been able to make in just a few days. Eyes dropping, I said, “Well, just know I appreciate . . . everything you’ve done.”
Silence.
My gaze drifted up. “You’ve been a good friend.” I tried to lighten my tone when his face stayed unreadable. “On all of these really early mornings.”
More silence. More expressions that were incomprehensible.
“And without coffee, too,” I added.
The corners of his mouth twitched the slightest bit. “That was the most torturous part, believe me.”
Since caffeine was pretty much the only way I functioned, I nodded resolutely. “Believe me. I do.”
“Charlie.” His hand rested on my thigh for a minute,