Page 17 of Griffin
"No, dear. They avoided me because of Harold."
I hadn't seen where this was going, and when it finally struck me, it stole my breath. How did Annie know?
"Harold and I met through church, and we hit it off right away. I was in heaven. He had a thick head of dark hair and big broad shoulders. We were so happy … for the first year," she added grimly. "He was always stressed about work and about earning enough money for the family. I blamed that stress for a long time. I blamed his job and our constant struggle with money for how fast things between us disintegrated. But the destruction wasn't coming from my side. I did my part. I took care of Nina and the house and made sure he always had a hot meal to come home to. I earned extra money working at the local fabric shop. I did all I could to hold it together, but Harold grew angrier, harsher …" Annie rested back and turned her face my direction. "I should have left him sooner," she said quietly. "But it was hard, and I—I waited too long."
I was holding back tears, and my throat was so tight I couldn't speak. I'd met her one time, one short conversation that was only four bus stops long, and in that time, she'd figured out I was in the same boat. It was a silent language that transpired between all of us, all of us trapped in the same nightmarish cycle. Independence waited on the outside, trying to pry us out of the bad dream, but it took courage and unfortunately courage was in short supply when you were constantly living in fear.
I rested back with her, and we held hands in silence. We'd created a sisterly bond that should never have to be. We reached her stop, and she squeezed my hand once more before shuffling off the bus. I closed my eyes, absorbing what she'd said and trying to figure out how to gather that elusive courage. An elderly man stepped onto the bus. He was struggling looking for the right change as he fished through his pockets. The bus driver patiently waited while the man found the fare he needed. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of yellow. It was Annie's roses. I sat up straighter, hoping to catch her attention and wave to her, but she was focused straight ahead. I looked back to watch as she turned and disappeared through a gate. It was the local cemetery. I sat back, once again winded by the hardships that came with life. I'd assumed Annie was going to meet with her daughter. I imagined cups of coffee, some light conversation and a goodbye hug. But I'd imagined it all wrong. Annie was visiting her daughter at the cemetery. No coffee. No light conversation and no goodbye hug.
My bus ride and the reality that lovely Annie was going to visit her daughter's grave had slowed my pace. I reached the worksite. Hammers echoed loudly and saws buzzed like swarms of angry bees. The fresh wood smell that always clung to the air around the site reached me as I headed up the long gravel path that led to the trailers. I pushed my empty coffee cup into my bag and pulled out the water bottle. Annie's chat had left my throat dry with anguish. I needed to wash that emotion away, so I could focus on my job. Tate and I had barely exchanged ten words since he arrived home, and most of those words had been about the job. He also mentioned he'd be leaving again on Monday, and I held onto that sliver of a lifeline as if it was the most important news of my life. I just needed to get through the weekend. Avoidance had become my number one coping mechanism. I planned to take several very long walks and possibly a bus down to the beach. He usually spent his days off slumped on the couch, chugging beer, scrolling through his phone and watching sports. I was always glad when his focus was on a football game instead of on me.
I reached the site and found myself glancing around for that one face. Griffin's call had caused as much emotional upheaval as Annie's story. It was upheaval in a good way. For a while, I'd been totally on my own, thinking it was me against the world, namely against the Tate world, but knowing that other people had taken notice of my situation was one part embarrassing and one part emboldening. I suddenly felt that there might be a safe place for me out in the world, away from Tate. I was disappointed not to see Griffin but hoped he'd drop by during the day. He always seemed to have a reason to stop in the trailer, and I hoped that I was one of the motivators for those frequent visits.
I reached for the trailer door, and it swung open before I could grab the handle. Griffin's green eyes glittered in the sunlight pouring through the doorway. "Shay, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come up the steps. I was just putting back the clipboard. Dad is running late, but he'll be here soon. How was your evening? If you didn't bring lunch, we'll be ordering pizza. It's a thing we do on Fridays, and now I'll shut up and let you come into the office." He shook his head. "Smooth as fucking cream, Stone," he said to himself. I was sure I wasn't supposed to hear his self-admonishment, so I pretended not to.
"Pizza sounds good. All I brought is an apple and some stale crackers. I really need to get to the store." I walked to my desk. He'd been on his way out but he stayed.
I circled around behind my desk and smiled at him.
We both spoke at the same time. I laughed. "You first," I said.
"No, I mean, I was just going to say, I hope you don't mind that I called last night. It's none of my business but?—"
I circled back around to where he was standing. The morning breeze rattled the trailer slightly, and the scent of freshly cut wood drifted through the open window. I walked closer and ended up just a foot from him. We stood facing each other, close enough that I could see a scar on his chin that looked as if it had been there for a long time. His Adam's apple moved with a deep swallow, and suddenly, it seemed we were both holding back, holding back from touching each other. I swallowed too.
"Fin, I'm working on it. It's been a long time coming, but I appreciated the call. It reminded me that there are people who are worth knowing, people worth trusting."
His self-control broke first. He reached for my hand, and I pushed it willingly into his grip. "You can trust me, Shay. Just say the word and I'll be there to help."
We stayed that way, our gazes locked and our hands together until heavy footsteps hit the steps outside. Reluctantly, he let go of my hand and stepped back. Colt walked in. Our gazes remained locked, and it felt like a hurricane of energy had passed between us. The tension snapped in two as he looked away.
"Morning, Shay," Colt said. His smile was always gracious and friendly. "Did Fin tell you about pizza Friday?" He looked at Fin, and there seemed to be a silent exchange of something that had nothing to do with pizza.
"He did and I'm all in. Thank you. I'll get right on that list you left me." I turned and walked back to my desk. I could still feel Fin's strong hand wrapped around mine as I sat down to start my work.
ELEVEN
GRIFFIN
"Pizza's here!" Dad yelled across the lot. Two delivery kids were each carrying a tower of pizza boxes. Dad had started the tradition of treating his workers to pizza two Fridays a month. After working for some real assholes who thought work needed to be a punishment that you were glad to receive, Dad decided to be a different kind of boss. He knew that if morale was high, then his workers would work harder to keep their positions. He had very little turnover on his crews, which saved money in the long run.
Cheers rang out through the mile-long worksite. Machinery was shut down and tools were set aside. A parade of heavy work boots kicked up a nice little dust storm as everyone headed toward the picnic tables. Theo whirred past me. "You comin'?" he asked and didn't wait for a response.
I was standing back, like a wallflower at a school dance, waiting for the most beautiful girl in class to walk in. And she did not disappoint. Shay's smile was bright white as she spoke to some of the workers in line. She said something that produced a bout of laughter. She glanced around the picnic area, and stupidly, I hoped that she was looking for me. When her face finally turned my direction, her gaze landed directly on me. She stared at me for a second and then tilted her head toward the pizza. I headed across feeling like a cocky asshole knowing that she had been looking for me.
The line was shorter by the time I reached the table area. Workers walked around with plates overflowing with greasy pizza slices. Shay stepped out of her place in line and walked to the back to stand with me. This morning there was a distinct sadness in her pretty face, but now she looked brighter, happier. While all the other big smiles around us had to do with pizza, something told me that wasn't the source of Shay's good mood.
"Did you have a good morning?" I asked.
The string of star tattoos curled and straightened as she bowed her head once. "I got a lot done, and it's turning out to be a great day." There was more to that statement, but we were in the midst of my loud, sweaty coworkers, so I didn't ask her to elaborate.
Shay picked up one slice of pepperoni pizza, and I piled three slices on my paper plate. We each grabbed a cold can of soda. We hadn't verbally made plans to eat together. I stayed back as she headed toward the trailer. She stopped halfway and, again, used that adorable head tilt to invite me along. I glanced back. Dad always ate with the crew on pizza days, and they always swarmed around him like he was the popular kid in the lunch quad.
I followed Shay inside, and we set our lunches down on the small table. "Thanks for inviting me into the executive dining room," I said as I pulled out a chair.
"Well, we'll allow it this one time, but let's not make a habit of it." She popped open her orange soda and took a sip. "Hmm, it's been a long time since I drank one of these. Used to always buy them out of the vending machine in high school. Good stuff." She took another sip. "I think they got the artificial flavoring just right." It was so nice to see her enjoying herself. At the start of the day, she looked miserable, and she wasn't the kind of person who should ever have to suffer misery. Something told me she'd seen plenty of it with that asshole she was married to.
I took a bite of pizza and ended up with one of those impossible strings of cheese that dangled between my mouth and the paper plate. I was fucking smooth, that was for damn sure.
