Page 40 of Lessons in Heartbreak

His brow furrowed immediately, eyes darkening. “Someone said that to you?” There was a dangerous timbre to his voice. An invisible pitch that he probably wasn’t even aware of. A growling edge that crept into those five words.

That edge felt like a balm over a scar that I’d carried for years, something meant to heal and soothe the cracked, angry edges. Almost like he’d sliced open some hidden side of himself for the sole purpose of making me feel better. It would be so easy to sink into his protective streak if I allowed myself to.

Breaking the intensity was a necessity, so I cleared my throat, turning to pull the cardigan off the bed. “It’s a general thought among most men, I’d wager. Am I allowed to put this back on now?”

Before I could wrap it around my shoulders, Griffin took yet another step closer. I backed up slightly, my calves hitting the edge of my bed.

“Most men would never, ever say that to you. Wouldn’t think it either. Not in a million years. And if someone did”—he dipped his head, and I couldn’t look away—“then he’s a fucking moron who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

There was a horrid burn at the back of my eyes, and I looked down at the ground, where his much larger feet were bracketed around mine.

Shame felt like a sticky, oily cloak stuck to freshly washed skin, and if you tried to pluck it off, it simply left behind a black residue that wasn’t easily wiped away. There was shame behind so many emotional reactions, wasn’t there? Even if I hadn’t been the one to say it, I still felt the slightest hint of that shame simply by being the one who’d inspired it.

It was so fucked up. Wrong. Unfair.

But it was still there, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Another switch I couldn’t flip, stuck in the wrong position for far longer than I’d ever wanted it to be.

“I should get ready,” I told him. “I have a doctor’s appointment in Denver, so I need to be out the door by eight thirty.”

Griffin was quiet for a moment; then he slowly backed up. Some of the pressure eased around my rib cage, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose.

“When will you be back?” he asked.

“Not before two. I have a couple places I’d like to stop while I’m downtown.”

“Got any plans tonight?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, big ones.”

His eyebrows rose fractionally.

“You asked what my vices are,” I said, gesturing back toward the big, comfy couch in my family room. “I plan to sit right there and watch period romance movies until I fall asleep. And it’s how I always end my days off, so I don’t want to hear a word out of you.”

Griffin notched his fingers to his temple in a mock salute. “Can I come back after dinner?”

“Why?”

Oh, the way he grinned in answer—it was devastating, and I fought the urge to place a hand over my stomach to calm the rioting burst of nerves at the sight of it.

“Do you trust me?”

No.

Yes.

Sort of.

The indecision must have played out over my face, because he laughed quietly under his breath. “Trust me,” he said firmly. “I’ll be back later.”

Chapter ElevenGriffin

The second time Ruby opened the door for me at her house, she looked a lot less pissed off.

“This is progress,” I told her as I walked past, ducking my head as I entered.

“What is? What are all those bags?”

“You’re not looking at me with that cute little homicidal glint in your eyes like you did this morning.”

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