Page 33 of A False Start
“That nightwas the first time I’d kissed Tommy. I snuck out the back door once you left and apparently, he left with another girl. That was that. Not that I cared. I didn’t have high hopes for us. That’s what most of my”—I hold my hands up to make air-quotes with my fingers—“boyfriends equate to. With daddy issues like mine, the prospect of something serious is downright anxiety-inducing.”
Griffin is staring at me, and he’s mad. But I don’t get the sense that he’s mad at me, so I continue, filling the space between us with everything that’s been running through my head for the past several years. “My brother and Mira are the first time I’ve seen two people truly love and respect each other. I want that too, but I’m not holding my breath. It seems fragile and unlikely, and I don’t think I can handle getting hurt any more than I already have.”
The words keep spilling, like it’s somehow safer to say these things out loud under the cover of darkness. “So now I’ll try for that too because it seems like what I’m supposed to do now. Right? I’ve got the education I wanted. The job I wanted. And I figure, hey why not go for the trifecta? And so, I bring a boy aroundonce, who, for the record, is a massive disappointment, and I’m the butt end of every joke there is about having a boyfriend. All with a guy who I don’t even like.”
I toss a brush back in the bucket. The clank makes Horse jump a little as I rave on. “I’m just the silly little sister who can’t settle down and gets around instead. And I fucking hate it. I don’t want to be that girl. I just want a normal, happy life. Even though I’m realistically too terrified to go anywhere near that type of life. Self-sabotage is a good friend of mine, ya know? But I force myself to try anyway. And then it’s just like...what am I supposed to do with a normal, happy person like Tommy? Normal, happy people don’t want to hear about the shit I’ve seen, the shit I’ve endured. Normal, happy people like to be around other normal, happy people. Am I just meant to fake it for the rest of my life? I want all that,”—I gesture in the general direction of my brother’s house—“but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let myself really have it.”
My chest is rising and falling rapidly when I finally turn my eyes back to Griffin, who is still sitting silently, a quiet witness to my insecurities, but now with a different expression on his face. Less angry, and more something else.
“You’re a good listener,” I say, meeting his gaze pound for pound.
Our eyes lock for a few seconds and then...
Griffin bursts out laughing.
“Are you...” My bottom jaw drops open as I watch him. The rich sound of his laugh fills the night air. “Are you fucking laughing at me?”
He covers his face with wide palms, body shaking under the intensity of his laugh.
“Griffin Sinclaire! I just poured my heart out, and now you’re laughing at me!”
First, I’m incensed. I mean, how dare he? But the longer I stand there with shock painting my face, the more his amusement rubs off on me. Grumpy Griffin has the giggles.
And that’s giving me the giggles.
It starts small. A little hiccup. Some tension drains out, falling away piece by piece, until the giggles turn into guffaws.
I drop my brush in the bucket at my feet and cover my face with a hand when my eyes water with the extent of my laughter. I haven’t laughed like this...ever.Griffin’s raspy laugh twists together with my breathless one, and in the quiet darkness of the night we come together in a shared moment of levity. Something in us aligns. We’re overcome with the same feeling, and we give ourselves over to it.
Something we’ve done before.
“My God,” I wheeze out as I bend over and grip my knees. “What is wrong with you?”
He gasps out a last laugh before he says, “I guess I’m not a normal, happy person either.”
My eyes find his. Mirth reflects between the two of us, and I click my tongue. “You sure as shit are not.”
He leans back on the stairs again, looking seductive and delicious without even trying, filling out his T-shirt in a way that he has no business doing. In a way that has my tongue darting across my lower lip.
“You just t-t-told a man”—his chin dips briefly, but he keeps talking—“who barely speaks that he’s a good listener.” His eyes close and his head tips back, laughter spilling out of him once more.
And I love the sound. It’s like a balm between us. I want to hear it more. I make it my goal right here and now, as I watch the ridge of his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, to be the one that makes Griffin Sinclaire laugh more often.
He doesn’t need to know. But I’m adding it to my to-do list.
I stand up and lean against the fence. “You are. You’re a surly prick, but I can tell you’re listening to me. Most people don’t. Everyone is so involved with their own lives. They listen, but don’t absorb what I’m saying. But you don’t just listen, youhearme.”
His chest heaves as he stares back at me and his expression transforms. Almost stricken, but he nods quickly to cover it up.
Then he stands and leaves me there in the dark with a soft, “Goodnight, Wildflower.”
12
Nadia
I’m halfway backacross the field when I realize we didn’t confirm a riding lesson tomorrow. We were too busy laughing about how fucked up we are.
Standing at the top of the hill that separates the main parts of the barn from the guesthouse, I weigh my options. I don’t even have the guy’s number, and I’m right here. We just ended on good terms. There’s no reason I can’t walk back and ask for another lesson.
