Chapter 27

Excitement at seeingmy brother propels me down the stairs of my dorm. I have an hour to spend with him before class. He hasn’t visited me since he helped me move into my dorm room. I’d like to take some time showing him around campus, but we won’t have enough time.

The sidewalks are crowded enough that I veer onto the grass. I pass a few people I recognize and wave a quick hello. My backless sneakers crunch and crackle through the fallen leaves sprinkled all over the lawn.

Seeing Griff this weekend wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be. At least I finally told him how I felt and heard his side a little bit. The night of the carnival is where it turned awkward. And the day after.

As much as I hate admitting it to myself, I miss him so much. I’ve thought about unblocking him and sending him at least a text a million times. But every time I try, all the hurt and embarrassment comes rushing back and I can’t.

Then he went and gave me the bunny. I wanted to thank him again, but he left the house before I had a chance. After packing my car for me. I hated that he left without saying goodbye, but I guess I deserved it.

He’s home now. Living at my house. But for how long?

According to all the Supreme Fighter gossip sites that I have absolutely not spent any time obsessing over, Stonewall was the “fan favorite” of the show. Everyone liked how “real” he was. How he seemed kind of shy and didn’t participate in a lot of antics in the house but was savage in the cage.

Mechanic in a small town? Or professional fighter with adoring fans all over the world? The choice seems pretty obvious.

So no matter what he says, I’m not eager to have my heart broken again when he inevitably leaves.

Enough about Griff.I spent my whole summer trying to get over him. College was supposed to be a new beginning. It has been a fresh start.

Until Griff came home and forced me to confront all the feelings I’ve been trying to escape.

I reach the cafe and stop to glance around. Remy’s kind of hard to miss. I pull out my phone to check if I have any messages from him. Remy’s usually on time. Should I wait outside?

Nothing.

Fine. I’ll be able to buy him breakfast for once. Introduce him to scones. Cheered by the thought, I pull the door to the student union open and trot down the short flight of steps to the cafe. The rich scent of coffee and pastries tickles my nose as I step inside.

My eager gaze scans the small cafe, searching for Remy.

And lands…

…on Griff? Sitting at a table, straight ahead and to my right, watching the door.

I blink. Is this a joke? I was thinking about him on my way here. Did I manifest him into existence? Am I hallucinating?

Our eyes lock and he lifts his hand. A sheepish smile curves his lips.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

Remy: Something came up at the bar. Griff’s meeting you.

I want to answer with a row of middle finger emojis. Instead, I don’t bother responding at all, and stuff my phone in my pocket.

I force my feet to move in Griff’s direction but it’s like willing them through wet cement. My heart pounds harder and my stomach twists with each step. Why am I so nervous? I just saw him two days ago.

Griff stands to greet me.

I stop at the chair across from his and curl my fingers over the cool metal back. What am I, a lion tamer? Am I going to thrust the chair at his midsection to keep him at bay?

“What are you doing here?”

My harsh tone wipes the tentative smile off his face. He drops back into his chair. “Remy said you needed some stuff. He couldn’t make the drive, so I said I’d do it.”

Warmth spreads though my chest. He drove all this way to bring me some clothes? I pull the chair out and slide into it. “Really? You didn’t have to do that.”

Especially since I was kinda mean to him this weekend.

“Not a problem.” He lifts a big black overstuffed tote bag in the air. The blue sheen of my winter jacket peeks out from the top. He leans to the side and there’s a crinkle from a paper bag. “Your winter boots are in here. Remy just gave ’em to me like that.”

“That’s okay. You really didn’t have to.” I glance at the high, small rectangular window in the corner. “It doesn’t seem cold enough for snow.”

“Remy was worried about you.” He shrugs. “It was a nice drive.”

Too stunned by his presence, I just keep staring at him and twisting my hands together in my lap.

He lifts his chin. “How are your feet?”

“Oh.” I slide one foot out from under the table to show him my ugly sneaker-slides. “I had to find something backless to wear for now.” I nod at the winter boots. “Maybe it’s a good thing you brought them. I left my Docs at home after they brutalized my feet.”

The corners of his mouth lift. “Are you hungry?”

I drop my gaze to the table as he pushes a plate with a giant blueberry muffin toward me. Then he slides a second plate with a pumpkin scone to my side of the table. “Your choice. Or I can get you something else if you want.”

Danger. This is way too familiar. Griff bringing me muffins every weekend for the last who knows how many years. “How’d you know I like their pumpkin scones?”

“They looked good.” He lifts one shoulder and shifts his gaze toward the door. “You don’t like muffins anymore?”

No, they remind me of you. “I do.” I pull the muffin closer. “This is a monster, though. Will you split it with me?”

“Sure.” His shoulders relax and he leans back against his chair.

I carefully break the muffin into two pieces, then split the scone in half.

“This is yours too.” He curls his hand around a short paper cup with a white lid and hands it to me. “Vanilla pumpkin latte.”

How’d he know that’s what I like to order here? I tilt my head, the question about to trip off my tongue when he says, “Thought it would go well with the scone.”

“It does.” I pick up the cup and take a tentative sip. The warm sweet liquid warms my mouth—just the right temp. As I set the cup on the table, thin, black, blocky writing catches my attention.

Griff yur #1 no matter what.

Melissa 518-555-0106

“Uh, I think you have a fan.” I turn the cup to show him the message.

He frowns and sits forward. “What the fuck?” Wide, concerned eyes meet mine. “I didn’t know…I didn’t see that. I never would have…Hang on.” He grabs the cup and stands so fast his chair scrapes over the tile.

“Griff, it’s fine. It’s funny.” I force a fake laugh.

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re famous now.” I almost gag on the words. I want him to be successful, I really do. But geez, we can’t even share a muffin and coffee in peace?

He grumbles something I don’t quite catch, then hustles away. “Be right back,” he calls over his shoulder.

I twist to watch him approach the counter. He holds out the cup to the manager. Polite anger simmers in Griff’s low, rumbling voice but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying.

Shaking my head, I turn and pluck a piece of muffin off the plate and pop it in my mouth. I better enjoy it now. I won’t be able to show my face here again this semester.

A few minutes later, Griff’s hand comes into view and sets a fresh, larger cup in front of me.

I wrap my fingers around it and pull it closer, letting the warmth soak into my chilly fingers.

He drops into his chair again.

I pop the lid off to let the drink cool. “You realize she probably spit in it, now.”

“No she didn’t. I watched the manager make it for me.”

I flick my gaze to him. I’m about to make my joke about not being able to come in here again but all the easiness in his posture and joy in his expression has disappeared. His body’s strung tight and he’s absently rubbing his knuckles like he needs to release some energy on a heavyweight bag.

Oddly, his unease about the situation erases my anxiety. “Griff, it’s fine.” I push one of the plates toward him. “Eat your scone.”

He stops rubbing his knuckles and picks up a piece of the scone. His hand hovers over the plate and little crumbs sprinkle down. “No, it’s not fine, Molly. I didn’t see the number, or I would’ve given the cup back before you even got here.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is.” He drops the scone. “I don’t want you thinking…after everything…”

“Like I said, you’re a celebrity now. Be grateful she didn’t hand you her underwear.”

His eyes widen in horror. How has none of this occurred to him? His handsome face and gorgeous shirtless body have been plastered on television and online for months and months. Women have dedicated pages and pages of commentary about every aspect of Griff’s physique, personality, and what kind of oil they’d like to massage into his skin.

“I don’t want to be a celebrity.” He glances at the counter again, an angry frown creasing his brow. “Shit, I’m not supposed to be seen out in public or have pictures of me posted online or anything.”

But he still came to a college campus to see me? “They make them lock up their phones in the back while they’re behind the counter.” I’ve heard the employees complain about the policy several times now.

He nods quickly but his gaze won’t stop jumping around the cafe.

“Come on.” I pop the last of the scone in my mouth and wrap the remaining half-a-muffin in a napkin. “Let’s go.”

Hurt or confusion turns his mouth down, like he’s worried I’m telling him to get lost. “Where?”

I nod to the bags sitting on the floor next to his chair. “I don’t want to carry that stuff to class with me. Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

“Okay.” He jumps up so fast, the table rocks sideways and he steadies it with his hand.

I grab the muffin and my coffee, then sling my backpack over my shoulder. A second later, the weight’s lifted off my back. “I’ll carry it,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

“Lead the way.”

I press the lid on my coffee tight and turn toward the exit. The girl behind the counter shoots a glare at me but I ignore her. Griff hurries to open the door for me and stays close all the way up the stairs. Like he’s worried I’ll change my mind. Or sprint away from him.

Outside, he adjusts his ball cap lower and hikes my backpack higher on his shoulder.

“Your face looks better,” I say, resisting the urge to touch his cheek. “Is your shoulder okay?”

He pops the opposite shoulder forward then back quickly. “This is the one I fucked up in the last match.”

“Griff,” I sigh, hating that he’s been hurt at all. “Let me take my coat. You don’t need to carry all that for me.”

“Don’t you have to get to class soon?” he asks.

Split a muffin with Griff, and I forget everything else. I yank my phone out and check the time. “I still have a few minutes. Come on.”

He walks on my left and slightly behind me. Like my own personal bodyguard. At my dorm door, I swipe my card against the reader and hold it open for him.

“Am I allowed in here?” he asks, following me inside.

“We can have guests. Just not overnight.” Not that the policy seems to stop anyone from having their boyfriends stay every weekend.

“Is it safe?” He glances at the door. “Are you safe here?”

Is anywhere really safe? “I think so.”

I take the stairs quickly. But when I reach the first landing, I realize Griff hasn’t even cleared half the steps yet. He seems to be favoring one knee and gripping the handrail hard.

“Are you okay?”

His pained eyes meet mine. Then his jaw tightens, and he nods quickly. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

“Men,” I grumble. “You can’t just admit something’s bothering you?”

“Yes, my knee hurts.” He groans. “I think I overdid it with the yardwork this weekend. But it’s still better than it was when I first came home, so keep going.”

Wow, never expected him to share that much.

Guilt slows my steps knowing that he’s possibly in pain. All because I chose to live on the third floor. “I thought at least I’d get some exercise every day if I have to hike to the third floor a bunch of times,” I explain.

He nods once, still concentrating on the stairs. “Solid plan.”

My room’s at the end of the hall and I hurry toward it, pulling out my key. I knock and push the door open slowly in case Denise isn’t in class for some reason. The room’s dark and empty. I push the door all the way open and flip the switch on the wall.

“Here we are.” I set the coffee and muffin on my desk and stand back, so Griff can enter. “It could fit in my closet at home, huh?” I joke.

“It’s, uh, small, yeah.” He slides my backpack off his shoulder and sets it on the floor next to my desk. “You share this with someone?”

“Yeah, she’s nice, though.”

“That’s good.” He hands me the bag with the coat and I take it out, shaking it a few times before opening my closet door and hanging it inside.

Griff jams his hands in his pockets and awkwardly leans against the wall. He glances at my bed. “Where did you find a purple-and-red comforter?”

I chuckle and duck my head. “I don’t want to say.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He crosses his arms over his chest and shifts on his feet.

Oh, no. He probably thinks Torch bought it for me or something. “I found it in the kid’s section of Pottery Barn on clearance,” I admit.

A wide, relieved grin spreads over his face. “Nothing wrong with that.” He steps closer and picks up the black stuffed bunny he gave me. His grin widens. “She even matches.”

“She does,” I agree, a little embarrassed he now knows the stuffed rabbit he gave me lives on my bed.

I grab the bag with my ugly old snow boots and stick it in my closet. “I don’t know why Remy was so worried. It’s not like I plan to go sledding or something.”

“Yeah, he seemed really stressed about it for some reason.” He clears his throat. “Can I walk you to your class?”

“Oh, shoot! I better get going.” I’m torn. I don’t want Griff to leave but I can’t be late to class. “This professor locks us out if we’re late.”

“Well, let’s go.” He opens the door and holds it for me. “I’d hate to have to kick your professor’s ass on my first visit.”

He says it teasingly but knowing Griff he’d probably go bang on the classroom door if I got locked out. The thought propels me forward.

It’s a small space and our bodies brush against each other as I pass. Griff’s warm, woodsy scent wraps around me. I close my eyes for a second. So many things have changed between us, but his familiar scent still both comforts and excites me.

Class. I have to get to class.

“You okay, Muffin?” Griff asks.

Why does he have to call me that now? I blink up and find him staring at me.

“Uh, I, yeah,” I mumble and duck my head, then hurry into the hallway.

Griff follows, closing the door behind him.

I drag my feet the whole way downstairs—I’m worried about Griff’s knee, and I want to delay him leaving as long as possible.

My class is in a brick building kind of shaped like an old church on the far side of campus. “Where’d you park?” I ask Griff.

“In that visitor’s lot near the cafe.” He waves his arm in the opposite direction of where we’re headed.

I stop walking and face him. “You don’t have to walk me all the way to class. It’s kinda far…”

He glances ahead, as if judging the distance, even though I haven’t told him where it is yet. “But I want to see where your class is.” He taps the side of his head. “Then I’ll know what to picture when I’m thinking of you.”

Oh, wow. Why’d he have to say something so sweet now when we have to say goodbye in a few minutes. And I haven’t even apologized for how mean I’ve been the last few times we saw each other.

“Okay.” I fight the urge to slip my hand into his as we continue walking.

All too soon, the little building comes into view. A steady stream of people are pushing their way through the red front doors. “This is it,” I say.

“It looks like a church.”

I chuckle and point to the little wooden plaque above the doors. Church Hall.

“Well, look at that.” He grins and hands over my backpack. “Hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thanks.”

Awkwardness slides over us for a second.

Griff shoves his hands in his pockets and lifts his brow.

“Thanks for, uh, bringing my stuff. And breakfast.”

“Anytime.”

I’m almost in the front door when something compels me to turn around. Griff’s still standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, eyes watching me. He’s as tall and immovable as a statue while students move around him. I push through the clump of guys behind me and hurry down the stairs back to Griff.

Concern creases his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I grip his biceps and lean up on my tiptoes. He bends down, tilting his head as if he thinks I’m about to tell him a secret. But I press my lips to his cheek instead. “Drive back safe.”

I kiss his cheek again and hurry away. At the top of the stairs I turn again and he’s watching me with a smile this time. He lifts his hand and waves.

I make it upstairs and inside the classroom right as the bell rings. Mr. Katz is already standing by the door waiting to throw the lock.

Phew. Just in time.

I grab a seat in the front row, not caring if that makes me look nerdy. My gaze strays to the window again and again even though it doesn’t face the parking lot.

The weekend seems so far away. Paying attention in class has never been so difficult.

Griff

I savor Molly’s sweet, brief kiss all the way home. Seeing her, walking around campus with her, talking to her, all of it was so much better than following her around like a damn stalker. She seems happy at school. Comfortable. Even if she doesn’t love all the big changes, she’s doing well. That’s what I want for her.

The drive isn’t bad, either. When I’m feeling one hundred percent back to normal, it’ll be nothing to run out to visit and take her out whenever she wants.

Remy’s still at the house when I pull in the driveway. I pull my car up and around his Bronco, so I’m not blocking him.

In the kitchen, he’s busy frying eggs and the sharp scent of burned toast stings my nose.

“Back already?” he asks, throwing a glance at me over his shoulder.

“How many eggs are you making? It reeks in here.”

“Well, now you’re not getting any.” He slides two eggs onto a plate, then flicks his spatula under another egg and flips it. “How’d it go?”

“Fine.” I shrug off my sweatshirt and drape it over a hook on the basement door.

“Here.” He holds out a plate of eggs and buttered toast.

My stomach rumbles. The bits of muffin and few sips of coffee I had on campus weren’t enough. “This for me?”

“Yeah, I assume you didn’t eat an actual breakfast out there,” he says.

Why does he know me so well? Chuckling, I grab the plate and head into the dining room. “Got that right.”

I return to the kitchen for orange juice, coffee, and utensils. Remy follows me into the dining room, setting his own plate across from mine.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. Please be a date for the reunion show. I want to get that out of my way and move on with my damn life. Worrying that someone at the coffee shop might have taken my picture intruded on my brief time with Molly and I didn’t like it.

I flick the screen on to check the text.

Molly: I am glad you’re home.

Relief, greater than anything I felt after winning my fights, sweeps over me.

She finally unblocked my number.

Me: Thank you.

No, that’s stupid. I hit delete, then type it out again. I am thankful she’s willing to talk to me. Might as well just be honest. I hit send and stare at the screen.

No reply.

That’s okay. It’s a start.

But then it buzzes again. A picture pops up. Molly, nose-to-nose with her stuffed bunny.

Molly: I named her Carnival, BTW.

My heart hammers from a simple selfie from my girl.

Me: Perfect name.

“What are you grinning about?” Remy asks.

I click on the picture and set it as my screen background. “Nothing.” I set my phone on the table.

He frowns. It’s not like he has a no phones at the table policy. His own’s sitting right next to his plate. “Who are you texting?” he asks.

Does he honestly think I’d be contacting other girls when I’m sitting at his dining table? When all I’ve been talking about since I got home is repairing my relationship with Molly?

“Molly unblocked me.” I grin even wider, not even caring if it pisses him off.

He flicks his gaze to the ceiling and shakes his head. “Good.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” He stabs his fork into a piece of egg and shoves it in his mouth.

Something bugged me the whole way home. And now, the need to question Remy won’t leave me alone. “You know, it’s weird, I checked three different weather apps and none of them said anything about snow this week.”

“Huh? Really.” Remy scratches his head, a sure sign he’s lying, being a sarcastic dick, or some combination of the two. “I definitely saw it somewhere. Maybe that’s what they mean about ‘climate change.’”

“Weather and climate aren’t the same thing.” I dip the corner of a piece of toast into my egg yolk. “Try again.”

“Weathermen are always gettin’ shit wrong.”

“Uh-huh.” I munch on toast and egg for a few seconds, thinking over my words. Remy returns to attacking his eggs like he has a personal vendetta against them.

I take a sip of juice and set my glass down. “You ever get tired of playing puppet master?”

“Puppet master?” He glances up from his plate. “That’s new.”

I hold out my hand and wiggle my fingers in the air like I’m making a puppet dance. “You brought those girls over to force me into telling you how I feel about Molly. You set Torch and Molly up.” I almost choke on that accusation, I’m still so pissed about it. “Now, you made up a fake snowstorm.”

“And just think.” His dickish smile increases tenfold. “That’s only the shit you know about.”

I should’ve known he’d show no remorse. “For fuck’s sake, Remy.”

“What?” He holds out his hands in an I’m-so-innocent gesture. “Look at it this way, if you were willing to run that stuff out to her, I’d know you were serious. Then I would’ve talked to her about maybe unblocking you.”

“But?”

“If you didn’t give a fuck, then I wouldn’t bother.” He shrugs as if the answer should’ve been simple and obvious.

Could he be a bigger asshole? I tap my phone. “So, this is your doing?”

“Nope. I hadn’t gotten around to it.” He frowns and checks his own phone. “She still hasn’t answered my texttoday.”

“I don’t think she appreciated you tricking her.”

A minuscule flash of guilt crosses his face. “She doing okay?”

“She’s good, I think.”

“She wasn’t pissed you showed up instead of me?”

I blow out an irritated breath. “She was surprised. But not mad.”

“Anyone recognize you?”

I roll my eyes. “Some girl wrote her number on the coffee I bought for Molly, so that sucked.”

He snorts with laughter. “You’re famous now.”

“That’s what Molly said! It’s not true.” I set my fork against the plate with a harsh clang. “Stop saying that. All this ‘fame’ feels more like punishment.”

“All right. Calm down.” He sips his coffee. “What’d you do about the phone number?”

“Took the coffee back and asked the manager to make me another one.”

He frowns. “Was Molly upset?”

“No.” I grin. “She showed me her dorm room.”

His frown deepens.

“She wanted to drop off her coat and boots instead of dragging them to class with her.”

“Ah, yeah. Flaw in my master plan.” He taps the side of his head.

“You’re such a dick.”

“How’d you do on those three flights of stairs?” He lifts his chin, indicating my bad knee.

Under the table I rub my hand over my thigh and knee, gently testing the inflamed joint. “Fine. Just took it slow. She showed me where one of her classes is, too. Did you know her professor locks them out if they’re late?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“That’s some bullshit.”

He shrugs. “I told her if he ever pulls that crap on her, I’ll have a chat with him. She didn’t appreciate the offer.”

Since I’m guilty of having the same thought, I chuckle and pick up my fork again. “Her room’s so tiny. I can’t believe she shares it with someone else.”

“Yeah, for the amount they’re charging, she could probably rent an entire house. But she wanted the ‘full college experience.’” He grins, not at all bothered by the expense.

Remy probably didn’t mean to, but he’s given me all sorts of ideas for the future.