Chapter 28

“Areyou sure you don’t want to stick around this weekend?” Denise pleads with me Friday afternoon.

“I can’t. I promised to help my brother out at the bar.” Guilt prickles over my scalp at the lie. I promised to go with her to a frat party at another school not far from our campus.

But a crowded frat house where I don’t know anyone and I have to guard my drink with my life is the last thing I feel like doing with my limited free time. Remy hadn’t asked me to help him at the bar but maybe I’ll work a few hours there tomorrow night so I don’t feel so guilty for lying to Denise.

“But you go home every weekend,” she implores.

Only every weekend since I found out Griff was back.

Well, even before Griff returned, I went home on the weekends pretty frequently.

At least Remy doesn’t seem to mind that I return so often. Part of me had worried as soon as I moved into the dorms, he’d change the locks and be annoyed if I returned on the weekends. But so far, he seems happy whenever I text him to say I’m coming home. Best of all, he’s been keeping his usual parade of one-night stands away from the house when I’m there.

Denise helps me carry my stuff out to my car, making me feel worse for ditching her. “I really wanted you to meet this guy I’ve been talking to,” she says after I slam my trunk shut.

“Are you meeting him for the first time?”

“No.” A shy hint of a smile flickers at the corners of her mouth.

“Maybe Thursday? Laura said she wanted to go to trivia night at the Fickle Toad.”

She raises hopeful eyebrows. “You’ll go?”

“Sure.”

“Yay!” She wraps her arms around me for a brief hug. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks.” Guilt tags along as I slide into the front seat. Why do I feel bad? Denise and I get along but we’re not super close. Or am I embarrassed because I’m still homesick so often? I spent years wanting to get away from Johnsonville. How can I want to go home all the time?

Okay, this weekend I want to see Griff.

I haven’t stopped thinking about his visit the other day. Haven’t been back to the cafe yet, either. Just in case phone-number girl wants to serve me a sneezer-latte.

The reminder of the woman who so brazenly wrote her phone number on a coffee cup for Griff dims my enthusiasm. Why am I torturing myself like this? Griff’s time home is temporary. He may not see it yet, but it is. And I’m still so ashamed about destroying my car, I can barely look him in the eye. When he visited me here, it was somehow different. I could almost pretend none of it ever happened.

But when I’m home, it’s impossible to forget. It’s why, even though I unblocked him and sent him the one text and selfie, I haven’t contacted him since.

Except for his short replies, he hasn’t reached out again, either.

Worried Griff will be at the house, I stop by the bar to see Remy first.

And promptly run into Griff.

I can’t catch a break.

He’s sitting on a stool near the front door. A wide smile brightens his face as I step inside.

“Since when do we need a bouncer?” I ask, a bit more snippy than I intended.

His expression smooths into indifference. “Your brother asked me to watch the door. So, I’m watching the door. Why are you here?”

I guess I deserve that. Answering that I didn’t want to run into him at the house seems obnoxious. “I knew no one would be home, so I stopped by to see if Remy needs help.”

He nods quickly and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in the back.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be seen in public?” Why did that sound so snotty too? We had a nice morning the other day. Why am I so unsettled seeing him here?

He slides off the stool, wincing slightly as he puts weight on his knee. “Unfortunately, it’s not that busy yet.” He turns away and walks into the main part of the bar.

Not sure what else to do, I follow. He’s right. We only have two patrons. But it’s still early. People who commute to Empire and normally stop in for a drink on their way home probably haven’t even left their offices yet.

I wave to Anderson behind the bar before turning left and heading down the long hallway to Remy’s office. The door’s open a crack, so I push it wider.

“Hey, big brother. I’m home.” I hold my arms open wide and grin at him.

He lifts his head from the piles of papers spread out in front of him on the desk. “Hey, kiddo. How was your drive?”

“Snow-free.”

He bites his lip and chuckles. “Come here.” He stands and moves around the side of the desk, meeting me in the middle of the cramped office for a quick hug.

“Do you want something for dinner?”

“I could eat a slice of pizza.”

He lifts his chin toward the hallway. “Is it still dead out there?”

“Pretty much,” Griff says.

I hadn’t realized Griff was still behind me. I turn and he’s leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on me. Why does such a casual pose make him look so…climb-able?

“Grab a table. I’ll bring something out for you,” Remy says to me.

“Thanks.” I slide past Griff—who doesn’t bother moving an inch out of my way. Electricity skitters over my shoulder as it brushes against his arm.

Anderson’s busy with one of the guys at the bar. I wave but keep walking to my favorite booth in the back corner.

I pull my phone out of my purse and aimlessly scroll through Instagram, searching for a new nail or makeup look to try this weekend.

A text pops up.

Torch: You home this weekend?

My thumb hovers over the message, unsure of how I want to reply.

“Order up.” A thin crust cheesy pizza on a round metal pan slides onto the table in front of me. I glance up into Griff’s stoic eyes. He sets a plate and a roll of silverware on the table.

“Thanks.” I drop my gaze to the eight wide slices. “I can’t eat that whole thing by myself.”

He pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and settles his big frame into it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I didn’t…where’s Remy?”

“In the back.”

I slide out of the booth. “I’m going to grab a soda.” Why am I being so weird? We’ve split lots of pizzas together over the years. Taking a breath, I rest my hand on his shoulder. “What do you want?”

He places his hand over mine and stares at me like he’s reciting every beverage the bar carries, but finally says, “Whatever you’re having.”

I hurry behind the bar, pull a pitcher of root beer, grab two cups, and return to the table.

He nods at me to pick the first piece. Too nervous to eat now, I pull the one closest to me onto my plate.

Griff doesn’t seem to share my nerves. He grabs a slice, folds it in half and takes a big bite.

I pour the soda into our cups and hand him one.

“Thanks.” He takes a quick sip. “How was the rest of your week?”

“Good. Busy. You?” I take my fork and knife and cut the big slice in half, then take a small bite.

“Took a few shifts at Jerry’s. Felt good to get back to normal.”

Another place I’ll never be able to show my face again.It’d been hard enough when I went to see Jerry and apologized for the mess I made at his shop. “That’s good,” I mumble.

“I’m glad you unblocked me,” he says.

My gaze flits around the bar. Anywhere but at Griff.

“I…I’m sorry.” I should’ve done it sooner.

“I didn’t want to bug you if you were busy, so…” He takes a bite of pizza without finishing the thought.

“Do you want to go to a movie or something when we’re done?” He nods to the pizza.

Wait, what? “This, this isn’t a…date, Griff.”

He scowls and swipes a napkin off the table, quickly dabbing his lips. “I thought we…Molly, what’s stopping you now?”

My bottom lip quivers. Dammit, I don’t want to cry about this anymore. I’m still drowning in embarrassment that I did something so awful and foolish. “Look what I did. We haven’t even talked about it. You’ve never?—”

He frowns in confusion. “Talked about what?”

“My car.” My voice breaks. “The car you gave me. Fixed up for me. I destroyed it because I was so mad at you for…”

Griff stares at me in wide-eyed disbelief, then pushes his chair back so fast, it scrapes against the old hardwood floor. He rounds the table and slides into the bench seat, forcing me to scoot over. Pulls me into his arms, sheltering me from the rest of the bar.

“Molly, I don’t give a fuck about a few car parts.” He blows out a relieved breath, or an amused one, it’s hard to tell. “Hell, you had access to my car too. I’m impressed you didn’t drop a match in her gas tank while you were at it.”

He’s definitely making fun of me. I tilt my head and glare. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

His smile slips. “You don’t know how sorry I am, Muffin.”

The familiar nickname brings a wave of longing and fondness swelling over me. I can’t afford to get caught in the undertow. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve?—”

He pulls me against his chest, cutting off my apology. He nuzzles his cheek against my hair and kisses my temple. Tears well up and burn my eyes.

I bury my face in his detergent-scented T-shirt. Underneath I sense his familiar spruce and soapy scent and breathe in deep.

He holds me tight while tears silently roll down my cheeks, finally handing my pain over to him.

“Please, please don’t cry, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m not mad about the car. Never.” In between words, he kisses the top of my head and strokes my hair. “The only thing I was upset about is that you could’ve hurt yourself busting it up.”

He lifts one of my hands, inspecting it closely before brushing his lips over my knuckles. “All that glass. I was worried you got cut up. That’s it. Everything else is just stuff. It can be repaired or replaced. You’re all that matters.”

His easy acceptance and forgiveness only make me feel worse. It’s not just stuff. It was a beautiful, thoughtful gift that he put so much time and effort into.

My throat’s too tight to form any more words, though. Instead my body shakes with more sobs.

He hums a soothing noise that rumbles deep in his chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I’d known. Really understood, I would’ve burned down that whole fucking house to come back to you.”

Sincerity rings in his voice. I lift my head and sniffle. “You worked so hard. Finding the car. Fixing it. I’m so sorry I did that.”

No matter what Griff says, I don’t think I’ll ever live down the shame that I was so destructive. Would I have done it if he’d been home? Probably not. I would’ve confronted him or hidden in my bedroom until the end of time.

Besides my shame about the car, there’s the shame of knowing he talked about me with someone else.

Another woman who wanted to fuck him.

Maybe that’s why he’s so willing to forgive me about the car? I pull away from him and grab a napkin to dab my eyes and cheeks. I quickly glance around the bar. No one’s paying attention to us.

“It’s not just that.” This is so mortifying. But I can’t go on letting him think I don’t know.

“Tell me. What else?” He rests his hand on my leg. “Tell me so I can fix whatever it is.”

This is humiliating. Heat burns my cheeks, but I push ahead. “Did you…tell anyone about me? About us?”

I might be willing to accept that Griff didn’t sleep with Kiki but what if they formed some sort of emotional connection in the house? How else would she know such personal stuff about me?

“I tried not to talk about you too much to anyone.” He frowns and hurries to add, “Not because I don’t love you or I’m not proud you’re my girlfriend.” He stops as if he’s daring me to correct him.

When I say nothing, he continues. “I wanted to protect you.” He shakes his head. “I know that sounds weak after what happened, but I didn’t realize?—”

“No, I mean, more intimate details about me. Or about us?”

Confusion wrinkles his forehead. “What do you mean? Like what?”

“The day after…everything…I received a text from your burner phone.”

His forehead slashes into a scowl. “They took my burner after I talked to Remy and confronted the head producer.”

“You confronted the producer?”

“Fuck yes, I did. When Remy told me what happened. What they were saying about you…I know it sounds weak as fuck, Molly, and I didn’t understand how bad it was, but I tried to fix what I could.”

I nod slowly. Everyone had told me the show never mentioned me again. I’d always wondered if they were only saying it to make me feel better. “At least that was something,” I mutter. “Thanks.”

“After I came home,” he closes his eyes briefly, “I found a text from you on the burner phone but everything else, all of our prior messages, had been wiped clean. So I didn’t know what you were responding to.” His mouth turns down. “I figured it wasn’t anything good.”

That sounds awfully convenient. “Really?”

He nods. “What’d the text say?”

I close my eyes, concentrating on the memory I’ve tried hard to bury. “Something about how virgins are only fun for a little while and you couldn’t be interested in me for long. Signed Kiki.” I finish her name in a snotty singsong tone. “I was hurt you’d…tell someone that about me.”

Griff slow-blinks like he’s staring at a crash at the racetrack. “What. The. Fuck,” he breathes out. “Molly, I never said…I would never talk about you like that to anyone. Ever. And definitely not with some woman I barely know.”

“Well, how else would she know something like that?”

He presses his lips tight like he’s afraid I might not like his answer. “I’m sure she guessed. Or the show did. And then they just ran with it.”

They had made a big deal about my age and that I still hadn’t graduated from high school at the time. “Okay, but how’d Kiki know about your burner phone? Did you let her use it or something?”

“Of course not. If I was going to let anyone borrow it, it would’ve been Venom. But I wouldn’t even loan it to him to call his wife, because I was worried he’d turn me in.” He takes a breath. “I doubt it was even Kiki who sent the text.”

Apparently, he didn’t watch many of Kiki’s private chats on the show. “Are you defending her?”

“What? No.” Frustration roughens his voice. “Molly, I barely spoke to her or any of the girls.”

Does he think I’m an idiot? “You were all stuck in a house together.”

“It’s a big house,” he insists. “I trained and did whatever else the show wanted us to do. The ring girls were off doing their own thing in another part of the house. Or they were lounging around the pool and hot tub. I didn’t go out there much.” He scowls. “Saw too many of the guys get drunk and piss in the pool to ever want to swim in it.”

“Eww, that’s gross.”

He hums a sound of agreement. “I was there with one goal—to win fights. I learned and trained. That’s it. The rest was noise to me.”

I stare at him, trying to sense any hint that he’s lying. But Griff’s never been a liar.

“You have more in common with her,” I say quietly.

He frowns. “Who?”

“That woman.” I wave my hands in the air, refusing to utter her stupid name again. “She’s your age. She wanted to run her own business the way you do…”

“Congratulations, you know more about her than I do.” He scowls and rests his hand on my leg again. “Molly, I know I’m not perfect. I wish I’d done a few things differently. But I don’t want anyone else. Never have. Not for one second. You were always the only woman on my mind.”