Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3), стр. 19

His grandmother, her wiry frosted-gray hair standing on end as if she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket, was dressed in a puffy winter coat and snow boots, though the temperature in the room had to be at least eighty degrees.

He couldn’t decide what shocked him more: the fact that the coat gaped open, revealing that she wore only her bra and a pair of men’s trousers, or the sight of her standing behind a strange man seated in an armchair while she dabbed something on his bald head.

Jesus, I just landed in the Twilight Zone. Unbidden, the theme song ran through his head.

The man looked up and gave him a weak smile and a little wave. His grandma was so enthralled with whatever the hell she was doing that she didn’t give Gage so much as a glance. Humming with gusto—Gage was pretty sure the tune was “Hey Jude”—she inspected her work and applied more of what appeared to be light blue paste.

“Grandma?” he croaked. No answer. He cleared his throat. “Grandma? What are you doing?”

When she still didn’t acknowledge him, the man craned his head toward her, nearly taking a finger in the eye for his trouble. “Donna? Someone here to see you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Gage gawked at the man. Who the hell was this interloper, and should Gage be showing him the door? Or should he be grateful his grandmother seemed to have a friend? Before Gage could choose which reaction to go with, she looked at him and lit up. “Paul?”

Gage’s heart nearly caved. Paul had been her husband—Gage’s maternal grandfather—before he’d died years ago.

Gage gulped down his dismay, hoping it would fill the crack in his heart, and took a step forward. “No, Grandma. It’s me. Gage.”

She frowned, confusion clouding her sky-blue eyes, a half-dozen furrows waving across her forehead. Though the lines were deep, her smooth skin glowed a soft pink.

The man swiveled his head between them. As Gage got closer, the smell of spearmint tickled his nose, which was when he realized the paste she’d been anointing her friend’s head with was in fact toothpaste—as evidenced by the half-squeezed tube of Crest she fisted in her other hand.

What the actual …?

Gage reached out to button her coat, but she recoiled, her eyes widening with panic.

“Donna,” the man soothed, “is this the grandson you’re always bragging on?”

Specters seemed to shift behind her eyes. Those eyes widened as if cognizance was slowly dawning, like a heavy veil lifting. “Gage?”

“Yes, Grandma.” He fought to swallow around the puck-sized lump forming in his throat. “It’s me.” Do I hug her? Shake her hand? High-five her? What do I do?

She ran her free hand up and down his arm, and her face radiated with pride. “I was at your game! Did you hear me in the bleachers? You were the best player out there. But then, you always are. I’m so proud of how you skated right through those defensemen and roofed that puck! I swear they were still picking up their breezers long after you scored.” She sang out, “He shoots, he scores!”

He swiped the back of his hand under his nose, suddenly reduced to an awkward ten-year-old. “Thanks, Grandma.”

“And the way you laid out that punky Bennett boy!” She flapped a hand at him. “Way to show him, honey.”

A moment passed before he processed the name from youth hockey days. Ah. So he wasn’t ten after all, but thirteen in her fragmented mind.

His relationship with his grandma had always been a close one, a special one. Whether it was because his mom was constantly working her ass off and Grandma was the caregiver he defaulted to as a kid, or whether it was because they simply had a unique connection, he had little idea. Didn’t matter. It only mattered that the bond had been there, even if she didn’t remember it.

He pulled in a cleansing breath and reminded himself that at least she knew who he was, even if she’d lopped off thirteen years.  This is about her, not you. Just go with it.

Grandma moved to hug him, and he took a step back, pointing at her coat. “Ah, Grandma, I think you missed a few buttons.”

“What?” she shrieked and glanced down at herself. “Oh, Lord have mercy, where is my head these days?” She began fumbling with the buttons. He reached out to help but snatched his hand back, caught in a surreal world suspended between past and present. One where her past was the present. The present where she’d recoiled earlier when he’d tried to help.

Stomach cinching into knots, he stuffed his hands in his front pockets to bide his time, his eyes drifting to the bald man he’d forgotten was sitting there. Kind eyes crinkling, the man offered him a head tilt and a knowing smile.

Still messing with her buttons, Grandma erupted in a laugh. Gage laughed along with her, if for no other reason than to keep himself from crying.

The old man stood, surprising him, and extended a bony hand covered in skin that resembled parchment. “My name’s Oscar. I’ll clear out so you two can have some private time. But first I wanted to say how happy I am to meet you. Your grandmother never stops talking about you and your sister.”

Out of habit, Gage accepted Oscar’s hand and shook. The man’s grip was unexpectedly strong. “Donna is so proud of you,” Oscar said. “Her memories might be a little hazy, but on that score, she’s crystal clear.”

If it were possible, the puck-sized lump swelled in Gage’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Haphazardly fastened, Grandma focused bright eyes on him, seeming not to notice Oscar’s departure.

“Gage, are you done with your homework, honey? I have some fresh-baked cookies for you. I just have to find where I hid them. You can help me.” Her smile, warm and indulgent, was different from the one he’d grown up with and loved