Griffin, page 23
“That’s blood money. People were bought and sold with it, not to mention the drugs. I don’t want anything to do with it. I’d rather live on the street.”
“Fuck, Cora, stop being stubborn. You’re going to New York. That shit is expensive. What are you going to do? How are you going to live?” He means well, even if every word out of his mouth makes me want to scream, slam my fists against his chest.
I’m heartbroken by his betrayal. Yet he does stuff like this, shows me he cares, and I want to relent, wrap my arms around him, and simply will things to be the way they once were.
“Don’t worry about me, and don’t make me sound stupid. I deserve more credit than that.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
I cut him off since I’ve got a bus to catch. “I’m no longer your problem. I’ve got money and a job waiting for me in New York.”
The money part is true and hopefully, soon the rest will be too. A few days ago, I had a phone interview for a hair assistant position at a salon on the lower east side and things went well. I got a callback yesterday for an in-person interview in three days.
Wheeling the suitcase I bought only days ago behind me, I march toward the front door of the house, hoping this will be the last time I ever see this place.
My brother grabs my arm, halting my progress, and the suitcase smacks into my heels. “Cora, hear me out.”
Frustrated, I groan and spin to look at him, eyes narrowed.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” His neck swings to look over his shoulder.
What’s he doing? Checking if anyone’s listening? There’s no one here. We’re alone. Lulamae hasn’t been home for days.
Dallas frowns at what I’m sure is an icy stare from me, and my gaze drifts from his face to where his hand still holds my arm. Wordlessly, he lets go of me and steps back, giving me some space.
The lost and alone expression on his face punches at my weakening resolve. “What shouldn’t you tell me?”
I’m wasting time now, indulging him because of some false sense of loyalty. All my life Dallas has always been there for me. When did all that change? When did my life become expendable? And for what? Money?
“Things aren’t the way they appear.” He lowers his voice. “It looks like I was working for Boden, but I wasn’t. And the tracker, the hotel in DC…you wouldn’t have been hurt.”
“You’ve said this all before. And I’m just supposed to believe you? Yeah, right.” I huff, fingers tightening their grip on the suitcase handle. “If you want to do some good with that,”—my gaze dips to the money still in his hand—“use it to get Lula help. Put her in rehab; she needs it.”
Lips mashing together, I push down the unwanted sense of loss and longing for a mother I never had. Most of my life, I’ve held my breath, dreading a phone call or walking in on my mother’s body. These emotions could easily slay me if I let them.
For the longest time, I used to think my mother was the way she was, selfish and unloving, because of the drugs. If only she was sober, she’d love me. But now I know differently. Lulamae is the way she is with or without drugs. Even still, she’s my mother.
“Goodbye, Dal.”
Without giving him a chance to fill me with more lies, I turn my back on him. Dallas makes a strange, almost sob-like sound, and I pause, then compel my feet to keep going.
My Lyft is here, the car idling at the curb, and I’m done with looking back at my past. Now it’s time to go forward, to my future.
Nugget wasn’t allowed to travel with me on the bus, so I found a pet transportation service to get her to Manhattan. The bus ride is long, over thirty-three hours, all told, and I’m in desperate need of a shower and stretch by the time the driver pulls into the bus depot in New York City. I’ve got a little over eight hours until I see Griffin.
I sent a text when the bus left Athens, telling him I was on my way. It turns out he’s on a job for Zero and out of town, but he’ll be back in the city late in the afternoon.
I thought he’d put our meeting off since he’d been away, but he insisted we meet for an early dinner tonight at a burger joint not too far from his office.
Cars honking, sirens wailing, and the rushing people all bring a smile to my face as I make my way to my temporary lodgings with Nugget in his pet carrier in one hand and my suitcase in the other.
The place is small and rough around the edges, but it’ll do for now.
Once I’m unpacked, rested, and clean, I take the train or as New Yorkers call it, the subway, to the restaurant when it’s time.
A cab was tempting, but I need to save my money. Even if I’m closer to getting a paycheck with two interviews lined up for tomorrow in addition to my in-person follow-up, I have to be smart.
Flurries fall like raindrops as I hustle down the street, and I pull the scarf over my mouth to keep out the chill. Cold, wet wind tosses my long bangs into my face as I pull the glass door open, and the strong scents of grease, French fries, and onions hit me.
I blink away the damp drops of snow from my lashes as Griffin comes into focus, sitting at the back of the small restaurant. He raises his hand and stands, sauntering away from the booth, up the narrow walkway to greet me.
Gosh, he’s gorgeous. Ridiculously so. While this isn’t the first time I’ve lost myself in Griffin, admiring his looks and knowing his heart is just as striking and pure, it is the first time that I’m not scared for my life. Smith isn’t a concern.
I slide the woolen scarf below my chin and smile up at him. “Hi.”
Clean, warm, masculine scents surround me. He smiles, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes wrinkle, and he leans in to wrap his arms around me. Our time apart was a famine and now I’m on fire, hungry and alive. I want to feast on him.
My knees melt as my arms slide around his back, fingers curling into his shirt. I delight in how solid and strong he is. This I already know but I’m not quite believing.
I’ve dreamed of seeing, touching him every day since we parted. And now, I don’t quite trust my eyes and hands, trust that I’m finally here. Not until I glance up into his ocean-blue eyes, warm and tender and intent on me, do I believe this is real. He is real.
“Hey.” His deep voice cruises down my spine like a kiss of butterfly wings against my skin. “I’m glad you came.”
His arms fall from my body as he pulls back, and in that same instance, I want to riot at the distance between us. Then he reaches for a lock of my brown hair, wrapping the short strand around his finger.
I stare up at him and the world falls away. For only a handful of days, this is how it was for me. Griffin was my world, and though we were strangers, and I was in danger, I’d never felt more at home and at peace than with him.
He releases my hair, and his hand finds mine as he leads the way to the table in the back.
“How are you?” I unravel my scarf and take off my coat before sliding into my side of the booth.
“Good. Better now that I’m seeing you.”
I pause in opening the menu, breath catching in my throat at his bold, open statement. Griffin is many things but someone who is direct with his feelings isn’t one of them. Well, that’s not true. He’ll open up once I do, but here he is, leading the way, and I can’t help but smile.
“I feel the same way.”
Just then our server comes by. The menu is simple with only four things to choose from—two kinds of burgers and two kinds of sides. Once we order beers and food, our server leaves and once more, we’re alone.
He rubs at his stubble-covered jaw, a faint grin playing on his lips. “So, New York. Hmmm, what’s your plan?”
“I’m sticking around. I’ve got a place for now and a few job interviews.”
One sandy-blond brow quirks. “And was this city always one of the destinations you had in mind when you thought about leaving Athens?”
I shrug, nervously picking at my hangnail as I ponder how to respond. Because truth be told, the farthest I’d imagined was Tallahassee or Charlotte before meeting him.
“No, but after being here with you… It’s an amazing city and I’m sure I’ll learn a lot.”
His lips twitch but he holds back even the smallest of smiles. “So, your decision has nothing to do with me?”
The direct question flips a switch in me. I’ve nothing to hide. In fact this meeting was all about telling Griffin exactly how I feel.
“That isn’t exactly true. I chose New York because I’d hoped you meant it when you said you were going to stay. I wanted to be here and get to know you better.” My hand reaches for his across the table and our fingers entwine.
At that moment, the server returns to the table with our drinks and food. He releases my hand, and I watch him as he chats with the server. My mind buzzes with what I need to say.
Once alone, he glances up from his plate. “I am staying, working for HC.”
My face comes alive, hot and bright like a star. “You are?”
The salty goodness of the French fry I pop in my mouth causes my lips to tip up even more. He nods, and I wait for him to finish chewing his food, needing more.
“Yeah, I’ll head up a team doing the same thing I was with Zero.”
“And this is good?” I can’t quite tell, as his expression is neutral.
He chuckles, wiping a salt crystal from his lip with his thumb. “Yeah. HC has more resources. They aren’t huge but they’re global, and I’ll get to limit my travel.”
“That’s amazing. So we’ll get to hang out in the city.” It sort of comes out like a question when I meant to own it, declare it.
Griffin puts my internal chastising at ease when he says, “Yeah, I’d like that.” He picks up his burger and takes a big bite.
At his admission, all my nerve endings skitter to life, and suddenly my appetite vanishes. “You know, I wasn’t being entirely truthful.”
He wipes at his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“I want to hang out and get to know you better, but in some ways, I feel like I already know you. Well, at least in the ways that count.”
He takes a long pull on his beer, motioning for me to eat. I take a small bite, and he studies my features, making it hard for me to swallow.
“I know what you mean.” He places the bottle on the table. “What happened with Dallas?”
The change of topic makes my head spin, and I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not. I take a few seconds to adjust, not able to form a response.
He takes my silence for something else and continues in a grim tone, causing my stomach to spasm. “I think we should talk about Dallas first.”
I drop the burger, still intact, back on the plate. “You were right. He was working with Boden. That’s how they found us, with the phone tracker and in DC. I’m sorry.”
My fingernails pull at the damp label on the beer bottle, as more than regret swamps me. And even now, when I have irrefutable proof, I have a hard time believing what Dallas did.
“I should have believed you. He’s been doing it for two years.” I take a swig of my beer, needing something for my dry mouth.
“Don’t be hard on yourself. You didn’t believe it because you loved him. From what you’ve told me, Dallas was your childhood hero as well as your brother and your parent. He was the one you could always go to, the one to save you from the monsters when you were little.”
A stray tear slips from my eye and I nod, wiping it away. “How do you do that?”
He cocks his head to one side, gaze puzzled. “What?”
“Just get it. Get me.”
“I think we get each other.” He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “But I want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”
“Don’t start that again. I’m a big girl and always intended on making it on my own. This city was a dream I never dared believe could come true, thinking it was too big, too daunting, but after what we went through…”
His lips are mashed into a thin white line, and I let out a rueful laugh that breathes life into the ache in my chest. “I’m confident that I can do anything. I’m not here to force you into anything.”
My final words cut deep but they’re true. I could say more. I could say what I feel for him could be love, and that while emotions ran high while on the run, I know what I feel, what I want.
But I don’t; it might backfire. Only prove his worry, that I’m starry-eyed and rushing into things. He doesn’t mean any harm and I get it. I even like him more because of his concern for me.
“Fuck, I’m messing this up. Not explaining myself clearly.” He slides his plate to the far reaches of the table. “I’m not trying to diminish what you feel.” He releases a frustrated sigh. “I’m damaged, and you have nothing but a bright future ahead of you. I don’t want to be the guy who holds you back or messes you up. I don’t want to be the one you regret later.”
Something inside me cracks, not sure what happened, but this isn’t what tonight was supposed to be about. I ball the napkin in my hand, crumpling it the way my heart feels.
“I could never regret you.” I lock eyes with him. “You know, in my mind, this went differently.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn't matter.” I grab my scarf and coat and slide out of the booth.
“Cora, don’t leave like this.” He reaches out his hand, but I shake my head, letting it dangle in the space between us.
I wrap the scarf around my neck and look down at him as something sharp and cold cuts into me. “I guess I'll see you around. Bye.” My voice quavers and I gently nip the tip of my tongue to hold back my emotions.
If I stay another minute, I might burst into tears. I rush toward the door.
“Cora, wait.” He places his strong hands on my shoulders, and just that single touch holds the pieces of me together. So comforting.
He spins me to face him, and I tilt my head to meet his gaze, breath trapped in my lungs. Is this where he tells me he feels the same? Where he stops me from leaving?
His hands cup my cheeks and he bends his head, moving in close, and I can almost taste him. He’s going to kiss me. Yes.
Warm, firm lips drop the softest of kisses onto my forehead, and he holds still for one, two, three beats. Something shrivels deep inside me when he pulls back, the similar moment to the one in the truck outside the house in Athens flattening me.
“I meant what I said. I want to hang out, and like you said, get to know you better. Become friends.”
I nod curtly, dipping my head. Who knew the word “friends” could cut me to the quick. And still, he isn’t out-and-out rejecting me but not embracing me either.
He waits for me to say something, but I can't find the words. What do I say to prove to him that we’re way past friends? Instead of daring to speak, I plaster on a fake smile and turn on my heel.
The wintery night and fat, icy snowflakes slap me in the face as I push out onto the curb. A sob wrenches from my chest. The frigid breeze and blasting lights and city sounds wake me up to what I’ve known all along. Same as it ever was.
I'm on my own.
32
Griffin
Cora walks, or more like runs, out of the restaurant and I stand there, frustrated and lost, mentally kicking my own ass. What the hell am I doing? Letting the best thing to ever happen to me walk away thinking we’ll be friends. Fuck that.
I throw some cash on the table and bolt after her. A rush of pent-up air releases from my lungs, and my body relaxes at the sight of her standing at the edge of the sidewalk.
Petite and shivering, she stares out at the constant stream of cars on the road. One hand shields her eyes from the falling snow and the other is shoved in her coat pocket, shoulders bunched up around her ears to ward off the chilly wind. The worst of it is her posture. She looks broken, and I curse under my breath. I did that to her.
“Cora.” My voice cracks on her name, and her head snaps in my direction.
The garish lights from the streetlamps and car beams underscore her anguished expression, but she doesn’t run or give me her back. Instead, she walks cautiously toward me.
I want her in such a way that I don’t have a choice. Selfish or not, I want Cora in my life. And I should have told her as much only moments ago. Instead, I tried to do the right thing. The right thing for whom? Certainly not for me. And judging by the way she looks, the way she reacted, not for her.
Powerless to stay put, I close the distance between us. An urgent electricity crackles between us and everything around us fades away. I wrap my arms around her, and without question, she sinks into me.
The fresh smell of her and the feel of her small hands on my shoulders causes my mind to short-circuit. My mouth crashes onto hers, needing to taste her, convey things to her that I don’t have the words for.
This woman makes me feel so much more than I ever have. And it scares me but also invigorates me, gives me meaning and life. She tastes sweet and savory, a mixture of our meal, mint toothpaste, and a sugariness only Cora possesses.
Our long, appreciating kisses turn into an impassioned meeting of tongues, teeth, and lips. My hardening groin grinds into the sweet heaven between her thighs, her legs wrapping around my waist, as I breathe her, taste her, feel her with every molecule of my being.
The arm banding her waist tightens, hand curling around her hip, while my other hand glides upward, over her back, and between her shoulder blades, pressing her chest into mine.
My fingers continue their venture north to wrap around the warm, smooth nape of her neck, tangling with the ends of her silky hair. Unable to resist, I gently curl the strands around my digits, pulling at her scalp and forcing her head back.
Lips slightly parted, she whimpers and squints up at me, trying to keep the flurries from going farther than her eyelashes.
“Griffin.” She heaves out a ragged breath, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed. “What are we doing?”
“What does it look like we’re doing? Kissing.” I smile, hoping it’s as wicked and cocky as I feel to have her in my arms.
