Page 34 of Under One Roof

He pads down the few steps, enough to bend down so he can talk to me. “Logan told me you two have been playing together.”

“Only twice,” I reply, as if we’ve been naughty.

“Come on.” He juts his chin up to the door. “Meet us in the driveway.”

Then he marches back upstairs, and I don’t waste any time. I throw on his sweatshirt and lace up my sneakers to head out to the driveway, where Griffin’s dribbling the basketball with an ease that makes my skin heat. His hands are big, his legs long, and he arches his brow in a challenge before tossing the ball to me.

Logan bounds over to my side. “It’s you and me against Gracie and Dad.”

Although I know Grace isn’t much for sports, I love that she’s grinning. So is Logan, both of them openly happy to be out here with their father. When I turn to him again, butterflies take off in my stomach at the way he tilts his head, studying me, “Time’s ticking, Andi. Are you in or out?”

“I’m so in,” I say with a laugh then proceed to do the complicated handshake Logan and I came up with the other day. After, I throw the basketball back to Griffin, who catches it with an audible breath, surprise crossing his features at the power behind it. “Losers get the ball first,” I taunt. Trash talk is half the game.

Griffin shakes his head and dribbles right up to me, a full, heart-stopping smile curling his lips. “That’s tough talk for someone who was born in the Keebler Elf tree.”

“Yeah, I was born sweet.”

He looks me up and down lasciviously. “I’ll bet.”

And I go weak.

Absolutely lose my place in time and space, unable to intercept the pass when he tosses it to Grace. But it’s worth it when she takes a shot on the basket, missing by a mile, and Griffin tells her, “That’s all right, sweetie. We’ll get it next time.”

Dead.

Died.

Gone to heaven

Chapter12

Griffin

Roman

Sorry. Won’t be able to make it tomorrow.

Iroll my eyes at my brother’s message. After days of texting him, that’s what he responds with? I scroll back through the thread, reading everything I sent him.

We’re having a surprise party for Ian’s 50th next Saturday. You should come.

I don’t know why you refuse to answer, but I know he’d want to see you.

If you don’t come, Taryn will kill me.

Come on, man. What the fuck? You can’t take two seconds to text me back. Like I don’t have my own shit to deal with.

Roman

Sorry. Won’t be able to make it tomorrow.

I stab at the keypad, having to delete multiple times because my thumbs are too big and I’m too ticked off.

At least fucking call him and say happy birthday to him tomorrow.

With a huff, I hit send, knowing he won’t respond, and smack my phone on the table with more force than necessary before snatching it back up to check I didn’t crack the screen or scuff the table.

But, fuck.

---