Page 12 of Property of Grifter
“Are you okay?”his gritty voice rumbles, sending electrical sparks of awareness through my system.
I nod, though my throat feels too tight to answer, but I force the words out.“Y-yeah.I think so.”Griffin pushes up on one arm, wincing, and that’s when I see it—his sleeve is torn and there’s a dark red patch spreading under his tee, near his shoulder.“Oh my God,” I gasp.“You’re bleeding!”
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, brushing it off like I just told him it was cold outside.
“Nothing?”I squeak.“Griffin, you were just shot!”
“Grazed,” he corrects, grimacing slightly as he moves his arm.“It just nicked me.I’ve had worse.”
I stare at him in disbelief.“Do you even hear yourself?You’ve been shot on my grandmother’s front lawn.”
He actually smiles—smiles—like this is somehow funny.“Worried about me, baby?”
“Griffin,” I practically plead, my voice drops.“You need to go to the hospital.”
He shakes his head.“No hospitals.I’m fine.”
My hands go to my hips automatically, my heart still racing.“You’re not fine.Griffin!You’re bleeding.That’s about as far from okay as you can get,” I explain, trying not to shriek.
“Georgie.”His tone is gentle now, almost pleading.“Just help me clean it up, yeah?I’ll be all right.”
There’s something in his voice that makes me stop arguing—something stubborn and exhausted and something I can’t readily define, but I think it might be fear—although I sense it’s fear for me, not himself.That kind of pisses me off.
“Fine,” I say finally.“But if you pass out, I’m calling 911.”
He gives me a crooked grin.“Deal.”
We stand up and using his good arm, he pulls me to him as we walk back inside.Nana’s standing in the doorway, her eyes wide as saucers, fear painted all over her face.It’s a look that I never want to see on my grandmother’s face again.
“The police,” she starts, and her voice is trembling.I move from Griffin’s side and hug her.
“I’ll call the club and our contact at the sheriff’s office, Nana,” he promises.
“What happened out there?”she asks, and this time I can see the anger bleed through her fear.
“Drive-by,” Griff says dryly, like he’s commenting on the weather.
“Drive-by?”She squints at him.“Is my Georgie in danger being with you, Griffin?”
I want to argue that I’m not with him.I can’t make the words form on my tongue.I don’t know what to do with that.I push my fear aside for now.I need to make sure that Griffin is okay.That’s all I can handle right now.
I give her a quick hug and go back to Griffin’s side.“We’re fine, Nana.I just need to patch him up.He’s bleeding.”
“Were you shot?”she asks him, sounding panicked.
“No.Just scratched my shoulder open when I pushed Georgie down onto the ground,” he lies.Considering how freaked out my grandmother looks right now, I let him get away with it.
Her voice follows us down the hall as I lead him to the bathroom.“There’s iodine and alcohol and bandages in my bathroom cabinet, Georgie.”
“Okay, Nana,” I answer, leading him to my bedroom instead.“Sit down on the bed.I’ll get the first aid kit,” I mutter, not really looking at him.
“I can come into the bathroom, baby,” he says.
I half laugh as I look around the small, dated, pink tiled room.The vanity mirror always tilts slightly to the left.“I’m afraid if you come in here all your testosterone will leak from your body,” I joke.
“It is kind of pink,” he admits.I look up to find him standing in the doorway.He’s staring at the pink toilet and bathtub with a hilarious look on his face.
“Yeah,” I respond and if I wasn’t so worried about him, I’d giggle.
