Page 35 of Griffin

My stomach twisted, and a deep sense of unease rippled through me.

“Michael,” I murmured, my voice softer now, “I didn’t realize how serious this really was.”

Michael’s face looked drawn, his eyes dark.

“I don’t know what to do. I mean…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper as he continued, “I don’t want to be responsible for someone…hurting themselves.”

The worry and guilt etched into his features made something fierce rise within me.

The frustration I’d felt earlier about him streaming again melted away, replaced by an overwhelming urge to shield him from all of this.

My wolf was riled up, wanting to comfort, protect, to do whatever was necessary to take that weight off Michael’s shoulders.

Without thinking, I reached for him, pulling him close, and to my relief, he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he leaned into the embrace, his head resting against my shoulder, and I felt his body relax, just a little.

My arms wrapped around him, instinctively drawing him in, as though somehow I could keep the world and its darkness at bay for him.

“Hey,” I murmured, rubbing small circles on his back, feeling the tension slowly drain from him.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Michael,” I reminded him.

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers clinging lightly to my shirt as though he was afraid to let go.

“I just… It’s so hard to shake the guilt. Todd says I have a duty to my fans, but what about me?” Michael asked.

“Exactly,” I agreed, my voice a little firmer now, wanting him to hear the certainty in it.

“You matter more than keeping your fans entertained or Todd’s opinions. This is your life, Michael. Your safety, your happiness—they’re more important than a fan base,” I told him.

He glanced up at me, his face inches from mine, and I could see something shifting in his eyes—relief, gratitude, maybe even something deeper.

The moment lingered, our breaths mingling, and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward, brushing my lips against his.

The kiss was gentle, tender, and yet it held something I couldn’t ignore, a sense of rightness that made my heart race.

Michael didn’t pull back. Instead, he responded, his hand moving to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer.

Our kiss deepened, a slow build of warmth and comfort, like two people finally finding something they’d been searching for.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, and I could see a hint of a smile, soft and sincere.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For being here… and for caring.”

I squeezed his hand gently, letting my thumb trace small circles over his knuckles.

“Always. And I mean it—ignore Todd. Take the break you need. Your mental health matters more than some contract,” I said.

Michael sighed, pulling back slightly, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

“You don’t know Todd like I do,” he murmured. “It’s… complicated.”

I nodded, though inwardly, I felt a pang of irritation at the guy.

How could Todd push Michael into this when he was clearly struggling? But I wasn’t here to argue over Todd’s character.

I was here for Michael, and that was all that mattered.

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