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Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Are you all right?” she whispers without moving a muscle.

Her voice unlocks something in me, and I shake out my arms before swiveling to her. I take a second to move each part of my body, but luckily I don’t feel any pain.

“I’m fine, just shook up. Are you okay?”

My mind runs wild with possible horrible outcomes. The impact of the car could have given her whiplash, a spinal injury, who even knows all the terrifying possibilities.

“I’m okay,” she whispers. “I…think I’m okay. That curve came out of nowhere.” Her voice is wobbly.

I put a hand gently on her arm. At least she’s breathing and talking and not moaning in pain.

“Do you want to try to get out of the car?” I ask. “See if you can walk around?”

She nods and we both unbuckle and gingerly get out. My legs are shaking enough that I’m not sure they’ll hold myweight. But there’s no pain, and I’m intensely grateful to see she isn’t limping or wincing. I take a deep breath.

“Oh my,” she whispers, and bends down to look at the car. The back right side hit one of the signs and…it’s bad. The sign is mangled, as is her car. The back is crunched and the tire is wonky.

We stare at the car in silence for a moment. “How are you, Grandma?” I ask quietly.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

I shake my head and turn toward her. “No, I mean, how are youactuallydoing? With…everything. Because if I didn’t know better, I’d think maybe you were…running from something. And taking me along for the ride.”

She purses her lips, which makes the small wrinkles around her lips more apparent. “Someone thinks they’re a therapist today.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

She rolls her eyes and does the same. “It’s hard getting old, that’s all, especially when I still feel like I’m thirty. It’s hard not being able to do all the things you want, not being able to plan as far into the future because you don’t know what’s coming. And whatever is coming, it’s usually not going to be good.”

“We moved here and that was pretty good.”

“Yes, that was the best.”

“So maybe there’s more good stuff on the horizon. You might be getting older, but you’re still…I don’t know, young-old to me. You can make new friends, start new hobbies. Life doesn’t have to stop when you move in.”

“It’ll be a different life, though.”

“Yeah. But different doesn’t mean bad.” I stare at the contorted car, but I’m thinking about my new school and friends. “Sometimes different is better.”

“Particularly when you’re sixteen.” She squeezes my hand. “Life’s so short. It doesn’t feel that way all the time, I know, but even after living for seventy-five years it feels short. I want so many more years than I’ll ever get.”

I want to argue with her, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m not sure I can fix this for her. Instead, we hold hands and stand together in silence. Birds chirp around us, getting ready for spring. There’s the distant hum of a car engine. She shakes herself.

“All we can do is live it.” She looks straight in my eyes, her expression almost stern. “Live your life, Quinn. Every minute of it. Don’t drift through it—liveit.”

Her eyes are wet, and it absolutely breaks my heart to see her upset. I pull her into a gentle hug. “I will,” I whisper.

We step apart and she pats the car with a little moan. “This poor thing.”

“I don’t think you can drive it home.”

Her shoulders hunch. “No, you’re probably right.”

“I’ll call Dad.” I reach in my pocket for my phone.

“No.” She puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t call him.”