Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting
Forty-Two
CARSON
The week passed by in a blur. Grandpa had me help him with some projects around the house he’d been putting off. Grandma made three-course dinners for every meal and homemade favorites for desserts, loving me with her food. When my thoughts got to be too much, I threw on a pair of tennis shoes and ran as far and as fast as I could until my muscles gave out and my mind gave in. I took different loops around town, making sure to never go by my old house, by the place where all the suffering began.
For three generations, Cook families had lived in that house, each one just as bad as the one before it, and I didn’t need to see the physical reminder of all the turmoil in my life. Especially not right now. I was a week into my stay with my grandparents, and I felt just as lost as I had the night I arrived.
Tonight, I walked the last half mile back to Grandma and Gramps’s house, cooling down. Last night, Grandma saw me collapse on the porch in exhaustion and got scared. I never wanted to make her worry.
With my breathing steadied and sweat dried into patches of salt on my skin, I walked inside. Grandma and Gramps looked at me from the living room.
A hint of relief crossed Grandma’s eyes. “Good run?”
I nodded, going to the fridge to get a bottle of water.
Grandpa chuckled. “Gotta run off all that good cooking, right?”
I laughed and took a swig of my drink. “Not possible.” Truthfully, having good meals three times a day was making it to where I could push myself harder than ever.
A baby’s cry sounded from somewhere in the house, and my eyebrows drew together. “What was that?” They only had a TV in the main living room as far as I knew.
Grandma and Gramps exchanged a look, and Grandpa gave me a soft, weathered smile. “We found someone we thought could help you.” He leaned his head over his shoulder and yelled toward the back bedroom. “Clary? He’s back.”
My lips parted as my oldest sister came into the living room carrying her youngest child. The little boy, James, was almost a year old now, and he already looked so different than the pictures I’d seen on social media.
I froze at the island and braced myself on the granite top. “Clary?” I asked her as much as them. “What are you doing here?”
Grandma crossed from the couch to me and took my cheek in her hand. “We might not know exactly what you’re going through, but we knew someone who did.”
Clary gave me a tentative smile and nodded.
“But how?” I asked. Surely a last-minute flight wasn’t in my grandparents’ retirement budget.
“You know your grandma,” Gramps said with a teasing smile. “Always getting those credit card points.” He rose from the couch and gently took James from Clary’s arms, and he snuggled into Gramps’s chest, closing his eyes. He must have felt Gramps was safe, just like I did.
Clary nodded toward the door. “I know you’re probably tired, but can we go on a walk?”
Slowly, I agreed. I set my bottle down on the island and moved toward the door without my brain telling me to. Then I stepped into the cool night air with a sister I hadn’t seen in years.
