Page 128 of You and Me, For Real
“There are fresh sheets on the bed—not that anyone has slept in it. The closet has some space where you can hang some of your clothes, if you need to. There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and toothpaste in the drawer?—”
“Cecily, I got it. I’ll be fine. Really. Thank you for this. This is more than enough.”
She adjusts Chip, holding him close against her stomach, and nods. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” And surprisingly, I mean it.
38
GRIFFIN
“Dude, you look like crap.”
I groan, and Roxy shifts next to me.
Roxy’s sleeping with me? When did that happen?
I peer over my bedside, keeping one eye closed, and squint. Luke stands next to my bed, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“Ever heard of knocking?”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
“So, you just decided to barge in?”
“Yup. But at least I brought you a present.” He thrusts the cup of coffee to me.
The aroma awakens my senses. Barely. I shift in bed, accepting the mug.
“Thanks. I feel like I was run over by a truck.”
“You look it.”
He crosses his arms and stands over me like he’s a mom waiting to make sure I’ve taken my medicine.
“And the compliments just keep coming.”
“What’s your game plan today?”
I slurp the coffee, and Roxy snuggles closer to my side, resting her head on my stomach. Warmth fills my entire body. Finally, I’ve won her trust—only to lose Ashton’s when she needed me the most.
“You see this?” I nod to Roxy.
It’s been over a month since I got her. Back then, I would’ve been happy if she just sat next to me. Look how far we’ve come. I made such progress with getting Ashton to open up, too. Only to flush everything down the toilet last night.
“Yeah, man. It’s great. But I’m going to need you to wake up a little faster. All your socials are a mess. The media has gotten out of control. How are we going to tackle this?”
I scratch around Roxy’s collar, and her tongue lolls out.
“Griffin,” he claps. “Wake up. The media! Things have turned nasty. You also fired your agent, remember? What do you want to do?”
Despite knowing the crapshoot I put myself in, his reminder that I finally freed myself from my father tips my lips upward.
“Glad you’re happy about all this, because everyone is not only trash-talking you, but also Ashton.”
“What do you mean?” I set my mug on the bedside table. My heart palpitates harder at hearing her name.
He strides toward my door. “Take a shower, change your clothes, then we’ll talk.”
