Page 102 of Mortis

I huffed out something halfway between a laugh and a breath. Then the silence returned. My gaze bounced between Grandad and the floor, still unsure what I was supposed to say. Eventually, he sighed. His hands slipped from his pockets and he crossed the room towards me.

When he stopped, he gripped both my arms, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Look, Teds. I know you didn’t keep things from me because you wanted to hurt me. But that doesn’t make it right.” My cheeks warmed. “Something was happening to this family. To our home. Our business. You should’ve told me.”

I dropped my gaze to my shoes, suddenly fascinated by them. “I know.”

It was hypocritical of me, considering I was still keeping a fairly enormous secret. But there were some things Grandad genuinely didn’t need to know.

Like the kind of porn I preferred.

Or the fact that my boyfriend, who I may or may not have been a little bit in love with, was actually a flesh-eating demon.

Like I said. Small details.

“Still, if I know you half as well as I think I do, you kept quiet because you were trying to protect me.” I said nothing, and his grip on my arms softened. “You’ve always done that. Taken something heavy and decided it’ll somehow be lighter if you’re the only one carrying it.”

“You’re seventy-four,” I argued. “You deserve an easy life.”

Grandad shook his head. “And you’re twenty-eight. You think that means you deserve a difficult one?”

That shut me up.

“You’ve spent your whole life looking after people, Teds. You helped me care for your grandma when she was ill, even when you were far too young to think that should be your responsibility.” One of his hands rose to cup my cheek. His palm was warm, the skin rough and calloused from more than five decades spent doing the same work I did now. “You worry yourself sick over Lo, and you spend every working day caring for people who can’t thank you for it.”

His thumb brushed beneath my eye.

“And now there’s Kael.” My eyes began to burn. I blinked rapidly behind my glasses, determined not to start crying. “You took one look at that lad and decided he needed looking after too.”

If only he knew quite how literal that was.

“But you’ve got to let people look after you sometimes, love.” Grandad smiled, and my throat tightened. “Remember, one pallbearer can’t carry the coffin alone.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Of course the owner of a funeral home had managed to weave the trade into a life lesson.

“Very profound,” I muttered.

“I thought so.”

“Been saving that one?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

“About twenty years.”

“Christ.”

Grandad chuckled, but his hand remained against my cheek. And for the first time in two days, the knot that had been sitting beneath my ribs began to loosen.

“You’re always caring for other people, but you rarely let them do the same for you.” His mouth curled up on one side. “Well, at least until Kael came along.”

My brow furrowed, and suddenly I couldn’t look my grandad in the eye. “I don’t—” I ran a hand through my hair, dislodging his touch. “I mean we⁠—”

Grandad hummed knowingly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not blind, Teds.” He held up one finger. “The lad follows you around this place like a puppy.” Another finger. “He brings you food when you forget to eat.” A third. “He listens to you ramble on about embalming, or whatever cartoon you’ve watched recently⁠—”

“I don’t ramble,” I grumbled.

“And most importantly,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken, lowering his hand. “Kael treats you like you’re the most important person in any room.”