Page 29 of Griffin

I’d promised I’d be the best employee Pecan Pines had ever seen, but I hadn’t expected him to hold me to it quite this intensely—working me to the bone every shift.

Like the time I was chatting with a couple of regulars about the craft brews, and he came up with that same unreadable look, saying, “Michael, other customers are waiting.”

At first, I figured he was just running a tight ship, but it kept happening.

I’d get a laugh from a regular, or they’d compliment my pour, and like clockwork, there’d be Griffin at my side, reminding me of the next thing on my list.

Honestly, I didn’t mind.

Casey was right—I needed this job to stay grounded, something that kept my mind busy enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling into that anxious, trapped feeling whenever my stalker crossed my mind.

If I lingered on it, the fear would tighten in my chest, cold and clinging like ice.

Just the other night, I’d opened my streaming app and was met with a flood of offline messages frommforever018. Even just seeing that username made my skin crawl.

So happy we got to meet at Cinderfield GamesCon.

When’s your next stream?

Can’t wait to watch you.

At first, they seemed innocent enough, but then the messages took on an insistent, almost desperate tone that made my stomach churn.

Why aren’t you streaming?

You promised you wouldn’t keep me waiting.

I don’t think I can keep going if I don’t see you soon.

Each word felt like a weight pressing down on me, lingering even now in the back of my mind.

If it weren’t for the bone-deep exhaustion from staying late at the bar—cleaning up, refilling condiment bottles, wiping down tables—I’d probably lie awake all night, replaying those words and dreading what might come next.

At least the job left me too worn out to do anything but crash into bed and try to forget for a few hours.

“Are you sure it’s on the second row?” Griffin’s voice cut through my thoughts. He glanced down from the ladder, one eyebrow raised.

“Positive,” I said, barely keeping my grin in check, pushing aside the unsettling memories to keep the lighthearted act going.

No need to let him see what was really haunting me.

He let out a frustrated grunt, setting down the box he was holding and digging even deeper.

I bit back a laugh as he muttered a few curses.

“Oh, and grab the one at the back,” I added, trying to keep my tone innocent. “Noah said the ones close to expiring are hiding back there somewhere.”

The groan that followed was totally worth it.

He paused, turning to look at me with a smirk, his eyes crinkling in a way that spread a surprising warmth through my chest.

One thing I’d noticed about Griffin was that he didn’t really smile like that for anyone else—not for Noah, not for the other staff or customers. Just me.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” His voice had a low, playful rumble to it, catching me off guard.

I couldn’t help it—a wide grin broke free. “What gave it away?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he picked up the same box he’d just set down. “Because we always keep the bottles that expire first right at the front.”

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