27. Blair

T he aftermath of Grant's attack has been blowing over rather fast. In the two days since he fell from the tower, he's been expelled from HEAU for having a gun on school property, among other obvious reasons. He's also facing criminal charges, including threatening me and others with his firearm, attempted kidnapping, and more. He's facing some serious time, and there's not much he can do to dispute it. The campus is covered in cameras, including everything that happened in the tower.

As far as I know, he's still in the hospital, being treated for his fall. At least this is all finally over. I don't think he'll mess with us again. Griffin says I should get a restraining order against him, and I agree, wanting some kind of rule carved in law that he can't be near me ever again.

I was supposed to be leaving to visit my dad today, but I decided to postpone it for a week in light of what had happened. I filled him in on everything, and he agreed, wanting me to come only after I've decompressed from the situation. He also said I shouldn't leave the area until Grant's legal stuff is finalized, just in case they have any questions or need me to come in for anything.

We have our last English class of the semester today, and I have bittersweet feelings about it. This class changed my life—or at the least, it brought me the one person who did.

"I wish you had let me look over your paper before you turned it in," I say to Griffin as we walk out of this class for the last time.

He slides his hand in mine. "No need. It's perfect."

I chuckle. "Perfect, huh?"

Walking across the cobblestone bricks, we begin making our way to the parking lot Griffin's truck is parked in.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely," he claims.

Nerves dance across my back. "Can I read it?"

His thumb brushes my hand as he stays silent.

"It's okay. I don't need to," I assure him.

As much as I want to read more about his past, present, and ideal future, I don't want to pressure him to open up about it until he's ready. I can wait.

"I want to show you something first," he says, opening my door for me and giving me his hand to help me into his truck.

It takes a lot of restraint not to pepper him with questions when he gets inside. He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips as he starts the truck.

"How do you think you did on the final?" he asks.

Quoting him from earlier, I answer honestly, " Perfect . "

He smirks and mocks me, "Really? That's quite an assumption."

With a straight face, I say, "Not an assumption at all. It's just a fact."

He laughs. "O-okay, I can't wait to see it."

"Let me paint the picture for you." I grin. "It will look like one hundred percent."

"So descriptive." He snickers.

We fall into a conversation about his upcoming game against the Minotaurs for the rest of the ride home. He tells me how they are one of the only other teams that rivals their success and has a chance at beating them, breaking their winning streak.

I suppose at the beginning of our agreement, when he wanted to teach me about hockey, he got his wish. Because I am actually starting to understand the jargon when the guys are talking, and it doesn't completely sound like a foreign language.

When we walk inside the house, I remember he has something to show me. Dropping my backpack on the couch, I sit on top of it and fall backward onto the pillows.

"What are you doing?" Griffin laughs and walks over to me, smiling.

I stretch my hands toward him, and he grabs them and gently lifts me, helping me up.

"Come on," he murmurs, his face falling and eyes glossing over as he threads his fingers in mine.

What's wrong?

He leads me up the marble stairs, and as we hit the landing, I veer left toward the east wing, but he stops me, redirecting me in the opposite direction. My heart leaps into my throat as we climb the stairs to the west wing.

He turns the knob and pushes the door open. "I want to tell you about them. I don't want to push them out of my mind and try to forget. I want to remember them. They deserve that."

My chest clenches, and my eyes burn at his confession. I brush my thumb back and forth on his hand, reminding him I'm right here as we step through the threshold into the past.

He takes a shuddering breath. "Gavin was the brightest kid, and he was always happy."

He opens Gavin's door, and we walk inside. I look at the room with a different understanding than I did before.

"He was just starting hockey, and he was a fucking natural, way better than I was at that age." He chuckles darkly and slams his eyes shut. "Fuck!"

Spinning in front of him, I place my hand on his chest and look up into his haunted eyes. "It's okay. I'm right here."

He brushes my cheek. "You can't argue that they never would have been in the car that night if it wasn't for me being a stupid kid."

"I'm so sorry for what happened, Griffin, but you have to find a way to forgive yourself, or part of you will always remain in here behind those double doors," I whisper and press a kiss into his chest.

A tear falls off of his lashes, rolling down his cheek. "Gavin was all of the goodness in life, as were my parents. "

"As are you," I add.

He huffs through his nose, fighting the sorrow from breaking free. Without a word, he leads us out of Gavin's room and down the hall to his parents.

"I couldn't bring myself to touch or move any of their things," he admits, searching the room intently. His eyes gloss over, and I imagine he's remembering moments spent here when they were still alive. "My room was at the end of this hall. After the accident, I moved my stuff, closed this wing off, and never returned"—he looks at me—"until today."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, "for coming here without you. I'm sorry."

He smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. "It's okay. I'm thankful you did."

"You are?" My voice is barely audible.

He nods. "If it wasn't for you, I might have gone even more years without stepping foot in here. You helped me realize that I don't want to forget them. The pain I feel in their absence reminds me of how much I love them."

"That's beautiful," I murmur, wiping my tears away. "I'm proud of you. They would be too."

His nostrils flare, and his brows lift. "They would have loved you."

My chest cracks at his words, and I cup his jaw. Leaning into my touch, he drops his head far enough for me to stretch up and rest my forehead against his.

"I love you," I whisper against his lips.

At my words, his eyes widen and soften, those gold flecks dancing in his enchanting gaze. He takes a shaky breath and exhales with every word. "I love you too. "

We spend the entire afternoon in the west wing. He tells me stories, both good and bad, about his family. He tells me of the time he and Gavin filled up water balloons and attacked their parents with them inside of the house. He laughs as he tells me how he and Gavin started pranking their parents and that he only did it to see how excited Gavin got when they pulled them off.

He tells me how much his parents loved one another and always displayed their affection proudly. And how his dad used to wake up on Sunday mornings and make his mom breakfast in bed.

I listen for hours as he opens himself up to the past, sharing those intimate memories with me.

Eventually, Mrs. Potts finds us. She walks into his parents' bedroom and sees us sitting on the floor. Her face instantly brightens, and her eyes well with tears.

The way she looks at Griffin is one of pure love, like a mother to a son, and I'm so happy he's had her by his side over the years.

"Dinner's ready," she says, and my jaw nearly drops at the fact that we've been sitting here for nearly six hours.

Griffin gets to his feet and holds his hands out for me, and I take them. Mrs. Potts dismisses herself and heads back downstairs.

"Can we come back?" I ask Griffin as we wander out of the room and down the hallway.

He smiles. "I'd like that."

After dinner, Griffin and I decide to watch a movie in the living room. He grabs cozy blankets and puts on Sleeping Beauty . Rex decides to join us and nestles in his dog bed in front of the TV. Mrs. Potts and Chip went out to the theater to see a new movie.

A question that's been lingering on my tongue slips past my lips. "What are we going to do about our deal now?"

He lifts his arm, and I scoot over to his side.

He wraps his arm around me. "What do you mean?"

"Well, our tutoring arrangement was only until the end of the semester, which is nearly over," I admit, a playful formality in my tone.

His face lightens with humor. "Oh, so this was strictly business for you, huh? Now, it's time to move on and leave your post?"

Biting back my smile, I say, "As you can see, I did an excellent job. I think it's only fair if I open my expertise up to other students. After all, you once said it would be a shame for me not to tutor with how great my grades are."

He turns his head, looks at me, and squints. "Oh, really? Now you're agreeing with me?" He stills before striking, moving me onto the couch and laying me down with his hands, his heated stare pinning me in place. "I have a new deal I would like to propose."

Giggling, I ask, "What's that? "

His hair falls onto his forehead as he leans down and steals a kiss. "You stay right where you are and never leave."

Rolling my eyes, I grin. "And what? You expect tutoring sessions for free now that we're together?"

"Of course not. I'll just pay you in more than cash," he whispers, pressing his lips against my jaw.

"I will need to get an actual job at some point to put some extra money in my pocket. I'm not letting you pay for everything," I groan.

Now, he rolls his eyes. "Do you still have that card I gave you?"

I nod.

"There's two hundred thousand dollars in that account. There's your extra money."

Cocking my head to the side, I protest while trying to keep my jaw off of the floor. "First off, that's insane. Secondly, I'm being serious."

"So am I." He doesn't hesitate. "Really, Blair. I don't want you to worry about anything besides school. I have more than enough to share, and I want to share it with you. What's mine is yours."

I'll probably fight him on this later because taking money and gifts has never been my strong suit, especially when it's something I would never be able to reciprocate. But I think he might wear me down because gift-giving seems to be one of his love languages.

"And after school? Will our deal change?" I ask him.

He smirks. "Definitely." He leans down and kisses me tenderly. "Then, I'm going to marry you."