by Jewel E. Ann
“I need to get going.”
How long was he standing by my door? He had to have gotten my address from his mom or mine. He could have mailed me the money.
He owes me nothing. Nate said I wasn’t his to kiss. Well, I’m certain no part of Griffin is still mine.
“Okay.” I hold the door open with my hip, slipping my hands into the back pockets of my shorts.
Griffin’s gaze moves down my body. It’s so familiar. He’s done it hundreds of times before. I don’t let familiarity feed any false hope.
“Why Salt Lake City?”
I shrug. “It felt good. The mountains. The energy. I only signed a six-month lease, just to try it on—the city.”
He drops his head into a slow nod, wearing a contemplative look on his face.
These pauses of silence are painful.
“My mom is coming to visit next month. Have your parents and sisters been here to visit you?”
He shakes his head.
Words, Griff. Give me words or leave, but I’m dying here.
“Are you working at the Harley dealership?” I cringe. Why did I ask that? Oh yeah … because he’s just standing there saying nothing. I shake my head. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I’m just … at a loss for words because you’re standing in my doorway, not talking, not leaving, and not coming inside. It’s just …”
“Sorry.” He takes a step back.
No. I don’t want him to leave. But I can’t ask him to stay.
This is goodbye. I feel it in my gut. Because if we would just make the choice, we could have this. But it’s too late. I can see it in his eyes, the eyes that shift to my chest. That’s when I realize I’m rubbing the heel of my hand over my heart.
Yes. It hurts.
“Take care.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile.
Take care. Not, see you later. Not, I’ll call you. Nope. Take care is a permanent goodbye.
He pivots on his black boots and makes his way toward the stairs.
“Griffin?”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
My heart crashes into my ribs.
He stops without turning.
“Thank you.”
After a few statuesque seconds, his legs shift into motion.
No look.
No nod.
Nothing.
Goodbye, Grocery Store Guy.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“Looking good.”
I jump, shoving my tank top back down over my stomach, all sweaty from my workout.
“Caught ya.” Beth winks at me in the mirror as the gym rats file past us.
I bite back my grin, embarrassed, but no one would know since I’m so red from working out. “I have definition in my abs.” I giggle. “Don’t make fun of me. I’ve just never had it before. I kinda can’t stop staring at those little bumps.”
Beth slings her bag over her shoulder. “I think I have twenty more pounds to go before I can properly identify anything bumpy-looking on my stomach as actual muscle.”
I giggle some more. It feels good.
She sighs as we walk outside. “Whoa … hello!”
I follow her gaze down the street. About five parking spots south, there are two motorcycles. A guy and a girl slipping off their helmets.
No. NO. NO!
Before I can duck or make a run for it, Griffin spies me.
“Can you say holy hotness?” Beth fans herself.
“What’s the population of Salt Lake City?” I mumble.
“Why do you ask?”
I give Griffin a sheepish smile. He knows I saw him. I can’t look away and pretend I didn’t, especially with Beth’s eyeballs rolling down the sidewalk to rest at his feet. “No reason. It just felt bigger when I got here. But lately it’s felt quite small.”
“Oh damn … his holy hotness is walking this way.”
Yes, he is and so is his female friend. Dang it … why does she remind me of Apple? Only her hair is blond.
Blonder than mine.
Longer than mine.
Thicker than mine.
She’s close to my height, but maybe an inch taller.
She’s basically me, but more.
And she rides a motorcycle.
“I’m out of here. I can’t get close to a hot guy when I smell like this. Later.”
“Beth—”
She’s ten yards in the opposite direction before I can stop her. Great. It’s two on one.
“Hi,” he says.
Damn, her hair looks like something from a shampoo commercial, even after wearing a helmet.
I know I look just as good as I smell right now—amazingly awful. “Hey. Small world.”
Way too small.
“It would seem. Samantha, this is Ginny. Gin, this is Samantha.” He winks at me.
I narrow my eyes just for a brief second before shooting his female friend my best smile.
“Hi.” She smiles. It’s shy and sweet. The opposite of a shampoo commercial woman.
I was shy and sweet like her when I met Griffin.
And she has a great name. It could be longer or short. So many possibilities.
“Nice to meet you,” I say without sounding catty. I’m not catty. Okay, I was a little catty with Apple, but she’s not Apple.
“What brings you to my neighborhood?” Yes. I’ve laid claim to this whole neighborhood in just under four weeks.
“Ice cream.” Griffin jerks his head toward the ice cream shop right next door to my fitness center.
I nod. When did he start eating ice cream on a whim?
“I see.” I smile again at Ginny. It’s easier to look at her than it is to look at him.
She points up the street at an angle. “And you live right over in that apartment building.” Her finger points right to my place.
“Oh, how did you know I live there?” Does he talk about me with her?
“What?” Her eyes narrow a bit. “No. I mean Griffin’s apartment is in that building.”
My eyes inch wider. He wets his lips and rubs them together.
No. Fucking. Way.
“She’s joking,” I murmur.
“Not joking.” Her eyes flit between the two of us like he hasn’t told her about me. “Why is that weird?”
Griffin looks down at her and smiles. “It’s not. Let’s get some ice cream.”
Ginny nods. “Yeah.” She gives me that innocent smile again. “Nice to meet you.”
I nod slowly. Shock has all of my words held captive.
“See ya.” Griffin gives me a quick inspection.
Yes, Griff. Don’t give me that look. I know … I know … You’ve upgraded to Swayze 2.0. Well done.
As I watch him open the door for her, I wonder if she has little muscle bumps on her abdomen. Maybe I should have told him that I have some now.
Okay. Maybe not.
*
It’s a tall apartment building. People park on all sides of it and down the street in both directions, as well as the parking garage just across the street.
I can’t berate myself too much for not seeing his bike or truck. And coming and going from the building is all about timing. I’ve probably only encountered maybe a dozen other tenants in the four weeks I’ve been here.
But … HOLY SHIT! Griffin lives in my apartment building.
And Swayze 2.0 knows where he lives. Has she been to his apartment? Probably. I mean … we had sex on our third official date. I bet she doesn’t vomit at the end of a blowjob. Swayze 2.0 wouldn’t do that.
Oh the irony. Griffin didn’t want to stay in Madison for so many reasons, but I’m certain the biggest reason was Nate. He didn’t want to watch me fall in love with another man.
And here I am, watching him date a better version of me. That’s very sweet of you, Fate. It really is.
After a shower, I work on a business flyer for a client, and scroll through a few photos Nate sent me of Morgan. Always just her. He’s never in any of them.
There’s a kno
ck at my door. The first knock at my door since I moved here. I’m only a little surprised to see Griffin on the other side of the peephole, all freshly showered in a white tee and ripped jeans.
Pressing my head against the door, I take a few breaths to calm myself down.
He knocks three times again. I unlock the door and open it, greeting him with a less-than-chilled smile.
“The day I paid you back, I should have told you I lived in this building. I’m sorry.”
Free pass for the rest of his life.
“No apologies. Ever.” I manage to get my lips to do something genuine. It feels like the way I used to grin at him.
“Can I come in?”
A shiver of emotions washes along my skin, bringing tears to my eyes that I quickly blink away as I avert my gaze. “Yeah. Of course. Come in.”
The apartment is smaller than my last apartment. Everything is in one room except for a tiny closet and the bathroom.
Griffin walks around, stopping at the window. “I’m on the same side of the building. Four floors up.”
“I love the view.”
He nods, hands in his pockets, back to me. “What are the chances that I see you at the grocery store on the day I forgot my wallet? What are the chances that I see you on the day that I had my first date since you? What. Are. The. Fucking. Chances?”
He faces me, leaning up against the window ledge. I don’t react. I’m not sure what the answers are to his questions. My ass stays planted against the front door in case I need to flee for oxygen.
“Don’t even get me started on the chances of you renting an apartment in my building.”
I am the queen of what are the chances. It’s amazing that anything surprises me at this point. Pigs could fly and I don’t think I’d give them a second glance.
“Ginny moved here two months ago.”
Here we go. My hand moves to the doorknob, just in case.
“She’s my boss’s niece. It’s not my style to date anyone related to my boss or even another employee. Things can get messy. I don’t like messy.”
It’s hard to keep this neutral expression. My face wants to contort into shame. I was the definition of messy.
His gaze trails around the room. It’s a little messy too. “After meeting her at work, I thought it might not be a terrible idea after all. She’s nice. And funny. Easy to talk to.”
Stab. Stab. Stab.
It’s fine. The man who saved my life is allowed to torture me. I’m completely at his mercy for the rest of my life.
My grip on the doorknob tightens.
“But then you showed up—fucking appeared out of nowhere.” His voice permeates a little grit, thickening the air in the room.
The muscles in his jaw pulse several times.
“I’ll leave,” I say. “I’ll go wherever you want me to go. Back to Madison. Seattle. Dallas. New Zealand.” I fight the emotion growing in my throat. “I’ll go to Hell if you want me to.”
Tears fill up my eyes.
He flinches. “Why would you say that?”
I choke out a painful laugh, feeling that old but familiar edge of insanity. “You killed a man for me. Every breath of oxygen my lungs draw in has your name on it. I owe you my life. So I’ll live that life absolutely anywhere you want me to live it.”
His hardened expression fades into pure anguish.
I blink to release the tears blurring my view of him. “The hypnosis didn’t work. I couldn’t remember. But I was so scared.”
Even now, I still remember how scared, angry, and hopeless I felt banging on Doug’s apartment door.
“I went to his apartment with a bottle of sedatives and a knife.”
“Jesus …” he says.
My eyes glaze over, seeing visions of my defeated fist resting on his door when the man told me he was dead.
“I hated you for leaving me without saying goodbye. I hated myself for thinking I would remember what happened to her. And I hated him for killing an innocent child and a young woman. There was this part of me that knew there had to be more. More deaths. More lives lost.”
I shrug, shifting my jaw side to side, gaze affixed to the floor between us. “If I didn’t kill him, the anger, fear, and guilt were going to kill me.”
His black boots come into view. I lift my head, tracking his path to me.
“Do you want to know what he said before he died?”
I wipe my eyes and shake my head.
“No?” He stops just in front of me, so close I can feel the heat of his body.
“No,” I whisper, meeting his gaze. Missing the depths of those whisky eyes.
“I think you need to know.”
I close my eyes. “No.”
Spearmint seeps into my nose. He’s close. Incredibly close.
“Ginny is perfect for you.” Not a lie.
“I don’t want Ginny.”
Pain floods my chest, to the pit of my stomach.
“I want you to know what he said before he died.”
More tears escape as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. “Why?” I manage between strangled breaths.
His hand touches my cheek. My body shakes with emotion.
“Because I want you. And the only way I can have you is if you know everything.” His words carry so much weight, so much anguish.
Opening my eyes, I reach for him. He steps back, dropping his hand from my face and grabbing the doorknob. I step aside, feeling desolate again.
“There’s not a middle for us. It has to be all or nothing.”
Sucking in a shaky breath while hugging my arms to my body, I nod once.
He starts to shut the door, but stops halfway. “Cash the check.” The door clicks shut.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I get it.
He killed Doug. I am the indebted one.
But I’ve come so far. Let so much go. I don’t want to relive the past.
Not anymore.
Part of me fears the possibility that a dozen other restless souls live inside of me. I don’t want to go backwards. Never again.
It’s like the world knows when we need to find each other and when we need space. It’s been a week since Griffin came to my apartment, and we haven’t bumped into each other since then.
I’ve thought about going to him, but I don’t know his phone number or his apartment number. So either fate puts us in the same place again, or he has to come to me.
Griffin has become Beth’s obsession since I told her we used to be engaged. She’s twenty-seven with an adoring husband and a three-year-old son—but my story is her happy escape.
“Do you have a tampon?” she whispers a few minutes before our spin class starts.
“Oh … um …” I hop off my bike. She follows me to the cubbies. I dig through my purse and pull out a tampon that looks like it’s been buried at the bottom of my purse for a year. My nose wrinkles. “Sorry. The wrapper is still intact.”
“Lifesaver.” She snags it from my hand. “Here.” She bends down. “This fell out of your purse.”
I take the envelope. “Thanks.”
She scurries off to the ladies room.
Shit. I was supposed to cash Griffin’s check. I slide my finger across the seal of the envelope, opening it.
There’s a check and a sticky note with his phone number.
It’s been right here in my purse for weeks. I glance at the check. It has his address and apartment number on it.
And because I’m such an idiot who refuses to accept my awesome name, he made the check out to Samantha Samuels.
I grin, shaking my head.
Cash the check.
After class, I shower and run up four flights of stairs because I’m too impatient to wait for the elevator. I knock on his door with one hand while peeling my shirt away from my sweaty skin.
I should have waited for the elevator.
He opens the door. Chatter and laughter spill into the hallway.
“Hi.” His eyes widen in surpri
se.
I crane my neck to see past him. NASCAR is on the TV. Our old TV. And there are a dozen or so people, men and women, mingling in his apartment.
He’s having a party and I didn’t get an invite. Well, this is wonderfully awkward.
Something tells me he’s not wanting to discuss the details of how he killed a man and what that man said before taking his last breath.
“Wow.” I hold up my hands and take a step back. “I should have called. My bad.”
“We’re just watching the race and hanging out. Come in.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to crash your party.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t say you had to crash it. If you can behave, then you’re more than welcome to come in.”
Taking a deep breath, I paste on my best smile and step over the threshold to his apartment. He closes the door as I force myself deeper into the small crowd of people, catching a few smiles here and there from a roomful of strangers.
As I worm my way toward the kitchen, praying there’s some sort of alcohol, I freeze. There’s a blonde with her back to me, just a few feet in front of me.
Swayze 2.0.
I can’t believe he invited me into his apartment with her here. Before she turns, I pivot to make a beeline for the door. This was a horrible idea.
Smack.
I run into Griffin’s broad chest. Whatever he had in his red cup just slopped down the front of both of us.
I grimace as he holds the dripping cup away from our bodies.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“What were you doing?” He frowns at his wet shirt.
I lean in and lower my voice. “I was leaving because you invited me to come in and Ginny is here. That’s awkward. Why would you do that?”
His brows draw inward. “She’s not here.”
I jerk my head back, doing a weird eye roll.
Griffin looks over my head and his face relaxes. He leans over and sets his cup on the counter. Grabbing my shoulders, he turns my body so my back is to his chest.
I try to wriggle free before Swayze 2.0 turns around.
“Everybody, meet Samantha. She lives on the second floor. New girl. Be nice. She’s easily spooked.”
Blonde girl turns, and she’s not Ginny.
“Hey, Samantha,” everyone replies in choppy unison.
