Page 15 of Griffin

Casey had a point—if I didn’t keep myself occupied, I’d obsess over the stalker, spiraling into paranoia, jumping at shadows.

Leave it to my big brother to anticipate everything, even if he couldn’t be around himself.

Not that I planned to let him off too easily. “You know, I thought we’d at least hang out for a few days, maybe do something normal for a change. But no, you’re ditching me for some fancy trip with your boyfriend,” I teased, only half-joking.

Despite myself, a little disappointment crept in.

Casey’s face softened, and he looked genuinely sorry. “I know. It wasn’t planned, but… he wanted to surprise me.” He gave me a small, guilty smile. “Believe me, if it weren’t something special, I’d be right here with you.” His hand gave my arm a comforting squeeze.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at my lips. “Fine. Guess I’ll survive without you.”

As I looked around the bar, my gaze wandered to the small stage where the band was finishing up a song.

The lead singer’s tousled blond hair and rugged look tugged at a memory, almost like I’d seen him somewhere before.

My brow furrowed as I tried to place him, and then it clicked—he looked like the guy from the cab that night. Almost, but not quite.

I took another sip of my beer, forcing my gaze down. Why was I still thinking about him?

First, I thought I’d seen him behind the bar earlier, and now here he was, the lead singer.

It was ridiculous. I shook my head, trying to brush it off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sawyer making his way back to our booth, and behind him, the same familiar face was following close.

My stomach twisted, half-excitement, half-warning.

The closer he got, the more certain I became—it was him.

My heart pounded. What were the chances he’d be here? It didn’t add up.

The universe seemed to be mocking me, throwing him in my path just as I’d decided to lay low.

And worse—I wasn’t sure I could actually look him in the eye, let alone act normal.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember me, I reasoned, trying to steady myself.

It had been dark that night, and I’d barely looked him in the eye before bolting.

But as he neared the table, our gazes locked—a brief flash of recognition that he masked almost immediately.

He looked away, feigning indifference, and my heart sank a little.

So, he did remember.

Sawyer gestured between us. “This is Griffin. Griffin, Michael.”

There was a charge in the air as we stared each other down, both of us waiting.

I half-expected him to say something—a sly comment, a subtle jab that hinted he remembered that night.

Part of me wanted him to. But all I got was an unreadable expression, nothing to suggest he cared either way.

He broke the silence first, sliding into the booth across from me and mumbling a barely audible, “Nice to meet you.”

Sawyer nudged him, rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind him; he’s just tired. Just got back from a trip.”

I managed a nod, struggling to hide the swarm of nerves buzzing under my skin.

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