Page 46 of Griffin

But part of me bristled at the way Griffin was talking about him. Todd wasn’t here to defend himself, and it felt wrong to just sit there and let Griffin tear him down—even if a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

"Don’t talk about him like you know him," I snapped.

My gaze dropped to the floor, but I pushed forward anyway. "The only things you know about him are what I told you that night when I broke down. You don’t know what we’ve been through together."

I stood from the bed, grabbing my clothes off the chair nearby. Griffin’s gaze was on me—I could feel it, heavy and unwavering—but I focused on getting dressed. Each movement felt stiff, weighed down by the knot tightening in my chest.

Was this my fault? Had I dug this grave myself by keeping the truth from Todd?

If he’d known about the stalker, maybe he wouldn’t have pushed me to keep streaming. Maybe Griffin wouldn’t see him this way if I hadn’t been too scared to tell the whole story.

Griffin didn’t know Todd the way I did.

He didn’t know how Todd had been there when no one else was, how he’d practically helped build my career from the ground up. Todd wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve this.

A part of me wished there was a way for Griffin to understand that, for them to see each other as I did.

But the more I thought about it, the more it felt impossible—maybe because I had kept so much hidden.

"You don’t know him," I repeated, quieter this time but no less firm. My voice carried the weight of every unsaid thing I couldn’t explain to either of them. "So don’t talk about him like you do.”

"Michael—" Griffin started, his voice softer now.

I didn’t let him finish. Grabbing my bag and coat, I slung them over my shoulder in one swift motion.

"I’ll see you at work."

I didn’t look back as I walked out, even though the tension in the room was thick enough to snap. I didn’t need to see his face to know how this had gone.

I’d screwed it up. Again.

Noah waved a rag at me from across the bar. "Hey!" His voice cut through the background noise, like a splash of cold water.

I jolted, nearly knocking over the neat row of ketchup bottles I’d been refilling.

"Sorry," I muttered, steadying the bottles with one hand.

"You good?" Noah asked, his brows pinching together as he walked over.

"Yeah, just... a lot on my mind." My voice came out flat as I picked up the oversized jug of ketchup and carefully began pouring it into one of the bottles.

Noah lingered, watching me for a moment longer. His concern was palpable, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he wiped the counter nearby, his rag making small squeaks on the surface.

"Okay," he said, though the hesitation in his tone betrayed him. "Anyway, do you mind if I borrow your phone? It’s kind of urgent."

"Huh?" I blinked, realizing I’d been staring blankly at the bottle in my hand, the ketchup threatening to overflow. "Oh. Yeah, sure."

Shaking off the haze, I wiped my hand on my apron and pulled my phone from my back pocket, handing it over without a second thought.

"Thanks," Noah said, already unlocking it with a quick swipe. He drifted back toward the corner of the bar, leaving me to my task.

I went back to refilling the bottles, but my hands worked on autopilot. My thoughts, as usual, were somewhere else entirely.

I couldn’t shake the argument with Griffin from earlier. His words had burrowed under my skin, staying there like a splinter I couldn’t pull out.

I was still angry, especially because Griffin had accused Todd of pushing me to stream, completely ignoring the danger the stalker posed.

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