“Dad worked,” Pru said. “He worked a lot. Mom just tried to get him to enjoy life when she could because he did work so hard—”

“You were trouble with a capital T, that’s what you were,” he snapped out. “And you still are. Told you that then and I’ll tell you again. You’re Trouble to the very bone.”

She’d frozen to the spot. She’d had no idea that her grandpa had called her mom Trouble, that he thought she’d been a bad influence on her dad simply because she’d wanted him to have a life outside of work.

The irony of this was not lost on her.

What was lost on her was how long she must have stood there, mouth open, gaping, letting old wounds reopen and fester because her grandpa grabbed something from the tray by his bed and chucked it at her.

She ducked and a fork skidded across the floor.

“Okay,” she said, raising her hands. “That wasn’t nice. Grandpa, I’m not my mom. I’m not Vicky. I’m your granddaughter Pru—”

“I don’t have a granddaughter!” A piece of toast came hurtling her way, which she also dodged. “You killed him, Vicky. You killed him dead, so go rot in hell.”

The words spilled from him, cruel and harsh and this stopped her cold so that she didn’t duck quickly enough the next time.

His mug caught her on the cheek.

“Ouch, dammit!” she said straightening, holding her face. “You’ve got to listen to me—I’m not Vicky!” She went hands on hips. “Grandpa, you are not two years old, you need to stop with the temper tantrums!”

“That’s right,” he yelled. “I’m not two, I’m a million and two. I’m old and alone, and it’s all your fault!”

Up until that very moment she’d somehow managed to separate herself from what he was saying, but suddenly she couldn’t. Suddenly she wasn’t feeling strong and in charge and on top of her life. She was just a girl who’d lost her parents, who had a grandpa whose elevator didn’t go to the top floor. She was doing the best she could with what she had, but it wasn’t adequate.

She wasn’t adequate, as proven by her track record of no one loving her enough to stay with her, and the terrifying thing was, she didn’t know how to be more.

“Get out!” he bellowed at her.

Paul appeared in the doorway, looking startled. “What’s going on, Marvin?”

“What’s going on is you let her in!” And in case there was any doubt of the “her” in question, her grandpa stabbed a spoon in Pru’s direction.

“Okay, now let’s just take it down a notch,” Paul said, doing his orderly thing, moving between Pru and her grandpa. “Put that utensil down, Marvin. We don’t throw stuff here, remember?”

But Marvin couldn’t be deterred. “It’s her fault! Get out,” he yelled at Pru. “Get out and don’t come back, you tramp! You son-stealer! You good for nothing free-loading hussy!”

Michelle poked her head in, her eyes wide. “Paul, you need help?”

“We’re good,” Paul said evenly. “Aren’t we, Marvin?”

“No, I’m not good! Can’t you see her? She’s standing right behind you like a coward. Get out!” he bellowed at Pru. “Get out and stay out!”

Michelle slipped into the room and put her hand in Pru’s. “Come on, honey. Let’s give him some alone time.”

Pru let herself be led out of the room, heart aching, feeling more alone than she ever had. Her grandpa had never been the best of company but he’d at least been someone who shared her blood, her history . . . and now he wasn’t remembering any of that and all she did by visiting him was upset him. She might have to stop coming entirely and then she’d be completely alone.

You already are . . .

She walked home slowly even though it was misting and she was wearing just the sundress and sandals. Her heart hurt. Rubbing it didn’t assuage the deep ache that went behind the bone to her wounded soul. She missed her mom. She missed her dad. And dammit, she’d missed feeling whole.

She missed feeling needed. Wanted. Like she was crucial, critical to someone’s life. A piece of their puzzle.

Instead she was a tumbleweed in the wind, never anchored. Never belonging to anyone.

With her head down and her thoughts even lower, she nearly ran right into someone on the street. Two someone’s, locked in an embrace, kissing as if they were never going to see each other again. The man’s arms were locked around the woman, an expression of love and longing on his face as he pulled back, still holding the woman’s hands.