Chapter 13

Anya

When you love somebody and you see them hurting, it pains you deeply, igniting a fierce desire to do whatever it takes to ease their suffering and bring them peace.

Something's going on with Tripp. Something I don't fully understand, but I want to help make it better. I could very easily walk downstairs and talk to my mother. Ask her what she thinks it could be, but I don't want to betray his trust. For I fear that would only make things worse. I could ask one of the many brothers I have, but again, if Tripp hasn't confided in any of them, I know I shouldn't either.

The only person he trusted to turn to was Griffin.

That speaks volumes.

Griffin is more a part of this family than I ever really thought.

As I sit in my room, going over the specifics for the party on Friday night, I can't help but think about Griffin asking me to dinner. What does he need to talk to me about? My mind races through possibilities, but I'm guessing it has to do with how we're going to help Tripp. I haven't seen Griffin or Tripp since the other day when we picked Tripp up from the police station. The memory of that tense evening still lingers in my mind.

I push my notebook away and rummage through my closet, searching for the perfect outfit. What should I wear? I try on dress after dress, discarding each one after scrutinizing my reflection. The butterflies in my stomach intensify with each discarded outfit.

Finally, I spot a dress I haven't worn in a while. It's a deep emerald green, a color that always makes my eyes pop. The fabric is soft and flows elegantly, hugging my curves in all the right places. I slip it on and step in front of the mirror. The dress features a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace sleeves, adding a touch of sophistication. The skirt flares out just enough to give it a playful swing, but not so much that it feels too formal.

I pair the dress with a simple silver necklace and matching earrings, completing the look with a pair of strappy black heels. As I take one last look in the mirror, I feel a surge of confidence. This dress is perfect. It's elegant yet understated, striking the right balance for a dinner that promises to be significant.

With my outfit decided, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for whatever conversation lies ahead with Griffin.

I pull up to his house right at seven, and turn off the ignition. His house is warm and friendly, and it gives me a sense of pride with how well Griffin has done for himself. I've never met his parents, but from what he said, they don't sound like nice people.

I exit the car, walk up his front porch, and ring the bell. Nerves flutter low in my belly as I wait for him to answer the door.

"Hey," he says, appearing in the doorway like a knight in shining armor. "The door was open, you could have just walked in." He steps aside so I can enter his home.

I push a strand of my hair behind my ear as I step over the threshold. "I didn't want to be rude."

Griffin's eyes pierce straight through to my soul as he stares at me. "I don't think you could ever be rude."

"You're such a nice guy," I say as he shuts the door. I follow him into the kitchen as he picks up a knife.

"I'm not that nice." He lays his knife over a clove of garlic and pounds his fist down on it. "I can be mean."

I laugh lightly as I watch him mince the garlic. "You could never be mean."

He stops what he's doing and studies me. "Not to you."

I blush, and then scan the items on the counter. "What are you making?"

His smile is so wide it splits his face into two. "That's a surprise."

I take a seat on a barstool. "I love surprises."

"Hope you love gefilte fish."

I raise a brow. "Um, I hope you're kidding."

He laughs hard, setting his knife down. "You should have seen your face."

I crack a smile. "I thought you were serious. So, what are you making?" Now I need to know.

He steps closer to me, brushing some flyaway hairs away from my face. "I promise you'll love it."

I spread my legs so he can fit his lean frame in between them. "Promise?"

He kisses the tip of my nose. "Promise." He kisses me lightly on the lips, but I don't want him to stop.

I wrap my legs tighter around him, letting the kiss deepen naturally.

He finally breaks free, and opens his eyes, trained right on me. "You're so pretty. Do you even get how pretty you are?"

I smile, my cheeks flaming hot. "Thank you."

"You didn't answer my question."

My cheeks grow even hotter and I dip my head to stare at the floor. "No, I guess."

He sets two fingers under my chin, raising my head up so he can look into my eyes. "You're really fucking pretty."

I gaze into the depths of his eyes, wanting to memorize the color. "Thank you."

"I've always thought so," he whispers, and my mind wants to analyze that statement over and over again. "I got a great deal on a ribeye," he says, changing the subject so quickly I can't ask him to elaborate. He steps away from me to continue working.

"Oh yum," I say.

"I'm making it with a sweet potato puree, balsamic roasted mushrooms and sautéed sprouts. Do you like brussel sprouts?"

I nod. "I love them." I glance around his kitchen, looking at all the prep work he's doing. "You really didn't have to go through all of this trouble. I would have been okay with a pizza."

He stops straining the sweet potatoes, and stares at me. "First, no, you wouldn't have because once you taste this you'll love it so much more than pizza. Second, it's really not any trouble. I enjoy doing this."

"Can I help?"

He resumes straining the potatoes. "You can get us both a glass of wine?"

I smile. "Now that I can do. I'm really kind of hopeless in the kitchen."

"I bet that's not true."

I head to his cupboard, opening a few before he points to one which holds the wine glasses. I pull two down. "I don't have a skill for cooking, but I definitely am skilled at carrying on a conversation with the person doing the cooking."

Griffin's eyes light up like the Fourth of July. "I love that. And you can sit here and keep me company every time I cook."

His words almost speak of a future of us ending up together, and I let my mind wander there. I'm actually not mad at it. I can picture coming home from work, watching Griffin prepare a meal just for the two of us.

I kind of dig this future unfolding before my very eyes.

Griffin steps closer and takes the glass of wine I've poured for him. "You okay?" he asks me as he raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip. "You sort of went quiet on me."

I raise my own wine glass to my lips, smelling the nice aroma of the Pinot Noir. "I'm just thinking about sitting here and keeping you company every time you cook."

He sets his wine glass down. "I might need to kick you out of this kitchen." He takes my wine glass from my hand and sets it along the counter. He invades my space. "Because I'm not going to get much cooking done with you sitting here looking like a meal I'd like to devour instead."

My chest grows warm. "Griffin," I whisper right before he kisses me.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. "You have no idea," he whispers as he breaks the kiss. "No fucking clue."

"No clue about what?" I blink up at him.

He cups my cheek. "No clue about what I'd like to do to you."

I smile wide. "Will you feed me first?"

"Depends on what you'd like to eat." He's got this playful look in his eyes.

"How about dinner, and then I'll have you for dessert," I say, feeling brave.

He smoothes my hair back with his hand, bringing his lips mere inches from mine. "Only if I get to return the favor."

"Absolutely," I say before he kisses me once more.