Page 38 of Griffin
"We're moving," he said between bites.
I dropped the dishtowel on the counter. "What? We just got here."
"I don't like this place or this town, and like I said, I don't want you working at that construction company."
His abrupt decision and command had opened a door for me. A night of sleep should help his mood and give me the courage to let him know he could move to any damn town he wanted, but I wasn't going with him this time.
I wiped my hands off on the towel. "It's late. We can talk about this tomorrow."
His fist pounded the table hard. I shrieked and ducked, sure something would fly my way next. After a few seconds, I straightened from my defensive posture and looked over at him.
"Nothing to discuss," he said coldly. He got up from the table, grabbed a beer from the fridge and seconds later, the television turned on. With any luck, he'd fall asleep on the couch, and I wouldn't have to see or hear or smell him for the rest of the night.
I finished up in the kitchen. Tate had the news blasting on the television. It was an arrest scene with the large flashing chyron beneath announcing that Toby Barron had been arrested for the murder of Roxi Carhill.
"I'm going to bed," I said.
"Shhh!" Tate said as he waved a big hand at me.
I was glad he had something to occupy his time. Roxi was one of the many beautiful influencers who took up a lot of Tate's spare time, and now, it seemed, her murder would do the same. I headed into the bedroom and reached in my pocket for my phone.
I froze in fear. I'd left it on the table. Griffin came up as Greta, but the whole fake name trick was silly. Our texts were not exactly banal like two acquaintances asking about the weekend. We'd even come darn close to full on sexting a few times. It was all we had since I'd put up the wall between us.
My heart was beating as I hurried back out. It just about jumped from my chest when I saw Tate reach forward and pick up my phone. I held my breath waiting for him to read the last few texts, but he didn't take his eyes off the screen. They were holding a press conference about the arrest.
"Ha!" Tate laughed. "Asshole deserves to go to jail for life." He tossed my phone at me without looking. I managed to catch it before it hit me or the floor.
"Why don't you stay up? We could watch a movie together," he suggested. His tone was much lighter and that menacing scowl, the one that always warned me to stay out of reach, had vanished. His whole demeanor had changed. It might have been the food or maybe just hearing that one of his social media sweethearts was going to get her justice had brightened his mood.
"No, I'm tired. It was a long workweek."
"Shit, you're such a fucking bore." He leaned back on the couch. "Well, go then. Don't let me keep you." With that, he turned up the television to an annoyingly loud volume knowing full well that there would be no way to sleep through it. That was all right. It gave me time to think about exactly what I would say to him in the morning to let him know my little slice of hell had become too much for me.
TWENTY-FIVE
GRIFFIN
An early morning knock was followed by my phone buzzing. The phone was closer than the front door. I sat up groggily, combed my hair back with my fingers and picked up my phone. It was Shay.
"I'm at the door."
"Be right down," I texted back.
I grabbed my jeans off the floor and headed down shirtless and barefoot. Theo and Crusoe had both drank a lot the night before, and they were still in bed. I reached the door and opened it. Heavy fog had covered the whole coast, and cold fingers of it came in with my visitor. Shay was bundled in a sweater and jeans.
She shot inside without a greeting. "He's home. He was supposed to be gone another week, but the fucker showed up last night at ten demanding to be fed." She paced the entry as she spoke. She twisted her hands together either to warm them or from nerves or maybe a bit of both. "I wasn't ready for him to be back. I had all this courage and bravado and the speeches, all the silly speeches I'd been practicing in my head and now that he's back, it's gone. How am I going to do this, Fin? He came in last night like a maniac. 'No eggs! Don't want eggs!'"
I let her finish. When she finally paused, took a deep breath and said hello, I broke our big rule and walked straight over and pulled her into my arms. There were no tears. Only tension. Her entire body was wound tight, but she relaxed as my hand smoothed over her back.
"Shit, I've missed standing in your arms." Her words came out on a whispery sigh.
"This is where you belong, ballerina. Right here. In these arms."
She lifted her face, and I held my breath for a second, taking in the beauty in front of me. I would have done anything to take away the pain I saw there. Shay's lips pressed against mine, and that was it. The whole fucking damn broke. In seconds, we were devouring each other, scrambling urgently to get closer. We came up for air just long enough for me to grab her hand and lead her upstairs.
I closed my bedroom door and pulled her back into my arms. Our mouths slammed together, and my hands grabbed eagerly at her sweater. We parted only long enough for me to whip it off. Still kissing, we shuffled as one hot, needy mess toward the bed. She fell back on it with a giggle. I laughed and landed on top of her. The frenzy, the fucking unstoppable passion, paused for a moment. I leaned on one elbow and caressed the side of her face with my free hand.
"I'm here for you, for all of this. I know you wanted to get through this shit alone but fuck that. You've been alone long enough, Shay. He's dangerous. You shouldn't have to do this by yourself."
