Chapter 48: Sweet Grandparents
Haper’s pov
The entire drive over, I kept smoothing invisible wrinkles out of my sweater.
Justin noticed. "You’ve adjusted that sleeve six times," he said.
"I have not." I said, clearly trying to hide how anxious I was
"You’ve also checked the mirror four."
I sighed. "I’m nervous."
He reached across the center console and squeezed my hand. "Relax."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered.
He chuckled. "They’ve been trying to meet you properly since they found out you existed and also met you at that disater called a dinner."
I stared at him. "That somehow makes it worse."
"It really doesn’t."
"It really does." I snapped back
He laughed. "They’re going to love you."
"You sound awfully confident," I said.
"I am."
"What if they don’t?" I said, worry surging through me.
He glanced at me before pulling into a long, tree-lined driveway. "Then I’ll ask if they accidentally met someone else."
I rolled my eyes. "You’re impossible."
"So I’ve been told," he said, completely unbothered.
The car came to a stop in front of a beautiful stone house. Elegant. Quiet. Not flashy. The lights glowing through the windows made it feel lived in, like generations had called it home. Justin walked around to my side before I could open my own door. "You ready?" he asked.
"No," I admitted.
"Perfect." He intertwined our fingers anyway. "Come on."
...
The front door opened before Justin even had a chance to knock. A silver-haired woman with kind eyes stepped outside wearing an apron dusted with flour. "There you are!" she called out.
She barely looked at Justin. Instead, she walked straight toward me. Before I knew what was happening, she wrapped me in a hug. A real hug. For a second I forgot how to move. Then I hugged her back.
"It’s so nice to meet you again," she said warmly, holding me at arm’s length. "It’s about time we meet without the other people."
A deep laugh echoed from inside. An older man appeared in the doorway. "Justin finally stopped talking about hockey long enough to talk about someone else," he said.
Justin groaned. "Grandpa."
"What?" His grandfather looked completely innocent. "I’m proud of your growth."
Grandma laughed. "So are we."
"I’m being bullied already," Justin said, pointing dramatically.
"You’ll survive," Grandpa replied.
"I usually do," Justin muttered.
I couldn’t help laughing. Within five minutes, I’d forgotten to be nervous.
...
Dinner felt normal. Wonderfully normal. No one interrogated me. No one tried to impress me. Conversation drifted naturally from one topic to another.
"So tell us about film school," Grandma said, leaning forward with genuine interest.
"I love it," I smiled.
Justin grinned beside me. "She’s underselling it."
I nudged him under the table. "I can speak for myself."
"I know," he said. "You just don’t always let me."
His grandfather laughed. "I like her."
"I do too," Grandma agreed quickly.
Heat crept into my cheeks. We talked about the documentary. About hockey. About editing footage. About Emma insisting she could direct movies better than I could despite being fifteen. Grandma laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork. "I like her already," she declared.
"You haven’t even met her," I said.
"I don’t need to," she replied firmly.
The conversation shifted naturally to Noah, then to Mom. The smile slipped from my face. "We had a bit of a scare recently," I said quietly. Justin reached for my hand beneath the table. I squeezed his fingers once. "We’re okay now. But it was close."
Grandma didn’t interrupt. She simply reached across the table and gently covered my other hand with hers. "You’ve been carrying far too much for someone your age," she said softly.
No one had ever said that to me before. Not like that. Not without pity. Not without expecting me to deny it.
I looked down at our joined hands. "I’ve just been doing what needed to be done."
"I know," she said. "But that doesn’t mean you should have had to." Something tightened painfully in my throat. "If you ever need anything," she continued, her smile warm and unhurried, "a friend of Justin’s is family to us."
I looked up. She meant it. There wasn’t a trace of obligation in her eyes.
Grandpa nodded in agreement. "That includes calling us if this grandson of ours ever misbehaves."
Justin threw both hands into the air. "I don’t even get a chance to defend myself?"
Grandma smiled sweetly. "No."
The table erupted into laughter. Even I couldn’t stop smiling.
...
When it was time to leave, Grandma walked us to the front door. Just before I stepped outside, she slipped a small card into my hand. I looked down. Two phone numbers, handwritten.
I blinked. "I couldn’t—"
"You can," she said gently, closing my fingers around the card. "If you ever need help and Justin isn’t answering his phone because he’s pretending practice is more important—" she shot Justin a pointed look, "—you call us."
Justin looked offended. "I answer my phone."
Grandpa snorted. "No, you don’t."
Grandma smiled at me again. "You call."
My eyes stung unexpectedly. "Thank you," I said.
She patted my cheek. "You’re welcome, dear."
As we walked toward the car, she turned toward the security guard stationed near the gate. "Miss Brooks is welcome here whenever she likes," she said simply.
"Of course, ma’am," he replied.
I slipped the card carefully into my purse. No one had ever opened a door for me without planning to close it later.
..
While Grandma insisted on packing leftovers for us, I wandered onto the front porch. Justin stood a few feet away with his grandfather, both of them looking out over the gardens. I wasn’t close enough to hear everything. Just enough.
"Everything all right?" Grandpa asked.
Justin hesitated. "I’ve just got a feeling."
"What kind of feeling?"
"That something still doesn’t fit," Justin said quietly.
His grandfather studied him for a long moment without asking another question. Instead, he rested a hand on Justin’s shoulder. "When you’re ready, come see me. Man to man." Justin nodded. "I will." Grandpa smiled. "But not tonight." He glanced toward me. "Tonight, take that beautiful young woman home."
Justin followed his gaze. A smile tugged at his lips. "She’s had enough excitement for one week," he said.
"I think you’re right," Grandpa agreed.
The drive home was quiet and comfortable. I rested my head against the window, watching streetlights blur past.
Justin glanced over. "What are you thinking about?"
I smiled to myself. "I think I understand why you’re different," I said.
He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Your grandparents." I looked over at him. "They’re wonderful."
His smile softened. "They’re my favorite people."
"I can see why," I said.
He reached over and squeezed my hand again. Neither of us spoke after that. There wasn’t anything left to say.
When he pulled up outside my house, something immediately felt wrong. The porch light was on. Mom always turned it off before bed. The front door sat slightly open.
My smile vanished. Justin noticed it too. "Harper?" he said.
I was already out of the car. I hurried toward the house and pushed the door open. "Mom?" No answer. Then crying. My heart lurched.
I ran into the living room. Emma was on her knees beside Mom. Noah stood a few feet away, pale as a ghost. Mom’s shoulders shook violently as sobs tore through her. I’d never seen her cry like that.
Fear gripped my chest. "What the hell happened?"
Emma looked up, tears streaming down her face. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "Dad came to the house."
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