Page 139 of Mess With Me

GRIFFIN: Are you at risk?

FORD: No. He just ditched his stuff.

I hold the phone still so long the backlight goes off. None of this is good news. Not just because something’s clearly going down.

Because I’m going to have to leave again.

If Sasha wasn’t here, I’d be on my bike right now.

But she is, and I won’t leave her in the middle of the night, especially not after tonight. She said she couldn’t fall asleep unless I was holding her.

Ford’s in Texas now, anyway.

I tap my phone awake again.

GRIFFIN: Book a flight. I’ll meet you tomorrow afternoon.

Ford responds in the affirmative.

Whether or not Sam Macklin took care of his sister back then, he’s not taking care of her now. Which means I need to do it, once and for all.

CHAPTER37

Sasha

“Sasha!” Cass exclaims, setting down her phone as I walk through the door at Liberty, a new restaurant on Maple Street in downtown Quince Valley. “So glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I say, sliding into a chair at the long table next to the picture window overlooking the street.

I smile as Cass talks about how good the menu is here. But there’s an ache in my chest. My whole body, actually. It’s still missing Griffin, even though he’s only been gone a few hours. He woke me up before dawn today, whispering that he had to go again, but that he wanted me to stay with Cass tonight. He wouldn’t tell me why, just that I was safe, but he’d feel better if I wasn’t on my own.

Part of me wanted to tell him if he was fine leaving me alone, then I should be fine staying on my own. But there was something in the urgency of his voice that had me skipping the petulance. “Okay,” I said.

I had a message from Cass before I even woke up saying she wassoexcited to have me over—Blake was out of town on business, so we could hang out and watch rom-coms and do girlie stuff. Normally, I’d love all of that.

But I couldn’t shake the worry that hung over me like a cloud. Not just for me, but for Griffin. The way he’d hugged me when he left—it was like he was going off to war. It felt like a farewell. I was so upset when the last sound of his bike disappeared over the hill that I went back into the house and shook that stupid canary over and over again before switching it off and sticking it in my pocket.

“Dad’s just washing up,” Cass says now, “and Chelsea’s going to be a few minutes late, but she’s on her way.”

“Okay,” I say brightly, hoping I don’t sound fake. I really am happy to be here. It’s Sunday morning, and Cass arranged for us all to have brunch together. I’m not working at Bijou until this afternoon. I was touched she’d asked me to join.

“What?” she asks incredulously when I tell her that now. “You’re part of the family.”

My stomach churns. If only that were true. Something’s happening back in New York, but I can’t share that, so I smile and nod, taking a sip of the ice water sitting on the table.

It reminds me of that night at Sequoia with Vincent Creelman.

“Is he coming?” I’d asked Griffin as he got onto his bike.

He’d gone stiff, then walked back to me and wrapped me in his arms. “No.”

“How do you know?”

He’d hesitated, then said, “I don’t want to count any chickens before they’re hatched.” After that, he’d kick-started his bike, ending the conversation.

Aggravating man.

I try to find some small bit of relief in that now.

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