There’s a long pause, but the gun doesn’t shift from where she’s holding it over her lap, so that’s something. “Good,” she says finally. “You aren’t scared anymore.”

I stomp onto the patio in front of her, simultaneously frustrated and surprised by her words. Everything I’ve felt and thought since leaving Fitz behind at the hospital compresses into a ball in my stomach and explodes like the big bang.

“Are you kidding me? I’m scared to death. Of everything. Of what I feel, of what others think, of getting hurt, of making bad decisions, of things I’ve done—if they were worth it or if it will end in heartache and regret. And it’s too late anyway because it already has. I’ve been trying. Talking to people, letting them in, allowing people to get close . . . and it hurts, Granny.” My face crumples and I cover it for a moment, collecting myself before continuing. “And it’s only going to get worse. I put myself out there and it was all for nothing. I’m worse off than I was.”

She shakes her head and laughs at me.

Laughs. She laughs at me!

“Living is painful sometimes, Tootsie Roll. And you’re being melodramatic. I’m glad though, it’s about time. You’re always too safe and serious. You upset about one of those fellas who came over for supper? Maybe the big guy?”

“Yes. And no, not the big guy. The other one. Fitz.”

Granny nods. “Here.” She leans down and grabs a mason jar from under the chair. “Have some moonshine.”

“That’s not going to help anything.”

“Well, it ain’t gonna hurt nothing either unless you drink too much. But it’s like I always say. Life should be full of moon words. Moonlight kisses and moonshine and your ol’ grandpappy mooning me from the front yard.” She holds the mason jar higher, extending it toward me.

I snort out a laugh before taking the proffered drink and sitting in the chair next to her.

Then she hands me the other shotgun from under the seat.

I sit it across my lap, pointed out toward the side yard, so I can take a drink of the moonshine.

“I know you’re unhappy, but things are better for you now.” She puts a hand on my knee, shaking it briefly. “Doesn’t matter what happens with that fella.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t you give me that offhand baloney. It’s about more than romance. You have friends. You’re living your life instead of going through the motions and hiding yourself from the world.”

“It’s just . . . I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

“Oh, sugar, it’s always worth the risk. Your grandpappy has been dead for twenty years and even though I’ve now had more time without him than I had with him, and even though sometimes he made me madder than a spitting hen, I would do it all over again. Even knowing the pain. One second of happiness is better than nothing at all.”