Page 6 of Really Truly Yours

Grayson's face hardens, and his tone scrapes the early-evening air. “Yeah, tell me. How’d you get nominated for this job? The old man couldn’t be bothered to do his dirty work himself?”

Donny isn’t that old, mid-fifties, but his body is giving out. “He was afraid you’d hang up on him if he called, and he doesn’t leave the house much these days. Mostly just for doctor visits and such.” Yesterday I drove him to have lab work done.

Grayson’s gaze drifts across the street to the puny house that’s even less than mine. “That his place?”

I nod.

“How long have you known him?” His words are like gravel being pulverized on their way out.

“A few years.”

Gray tugs his lip. On his wrist, there’s a fancy smartwatch that lights with the motion. Next to it is a band of thin, woven leather. His forearm is sinewy, with the perfect amount of honey-toned hair, and—

“Sydnee?”

I blink. “Sorry. What?”

He fixes his elbows on his knees and folds his hands. “What’s wrong with him?”

Right. Donny. “What isn’t wrong? Lung cancer, hep-C, heart issues.”

Grayson resumes staring at the pint-sized gray shack with the weedy yard. I’ve asked Sam to mow it next time he comes over to do mine, before the city slaps Donny with a code violation. Overall, the concern is negligible. The powers that be don’t care much what happens on this end of town.

“That’s a lot of stuff.”

“He’s had a hard life.”

He snorts. “He chose it.”

“That’s what he tells me.”

Grayson shoots me a look. “Oh, he owns up to his…crap…does he?”

I have two brothers. This man does not need to temper his language for me, although the effort is appreciated and speaks well of his character. “He does. He knows the hard living was his own doing.”

“How old is he anyway?"

“He turned fifty-four last Friday.”

Grayson startles. “My birthday was Friday.”

“Yes, he mentioned you two shared the date.”

His Adam’s apple dips in a painful-looking swallow. “I didn’t know that.”

I wonder what he does know.

A swirl of angst sloughs off him. He stares at the structure as if Donny’s house itself is a living being. “I suppose the real surprise is that he has a roof over his head at all, at least one outside of a jail cell.”

Bitterness, the kind that can eat a person alive, hums the air. I’d advise against holding onto it. If he asked, that is. Despite what might appear evidence to the contrary, I don’t insert my nose into others’ affairs. “You sound like—” Never mind. I was only a messenger, and my role is complete.

“Like?”

Since he asked. “You sound like you know a little about him.”

“My parents gave me an envelope with my adoption paperwork when I graduated from high school. I tossed it in a drawer and went on my way. I got bored a couple off-seasons ago and did an online search. Didn’t find jack except for a bunch of prison records.”

“Yes, but you should know, all that ended some time ago. He’s a changed man, Grayson.”