Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Again she found herself in the presence of authority figures where she would either have to lie about her name and facts or tell them the truth. Despite what she felt sometimes, she wasn’t actually on the run from the cops, so in the quiet she would be able to tell them her name if they required it. Everything was just so…sticky.

  For the countless time that evening, she pushed her thoughts from her mind about the fear of what could happen if she said too much and focused on what mattered.

  Griffin.

  He hadn’t been conscious when the EMTs had pulled them out of the wreckage of what had once been Griffin’s car. They’d said it was a miracle that Autumn hadn’t broken a bone or received a concussion of her own. In fact, except for a few small cuts here and there and her body feeling like a giant bruise, she hadn’t been hurt at all.

  She should have been grateful; instead, she could only think of Griffin.

  Jake slid into the empty seat Luc had just vacated and took her hand between his. She looked down at his large hands, noticed the specks of clay in the creases and under his nails, and focused on that rather than the lack of news on Griffin.

  “I think you’ve figured this out already, but when you’re ready to talk, we’re here.”

  She looked over at the very handsome man with bright green eyes, who called Maya his best friend.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

  “Here.” Autumn looked up as Maya held out a paper cup filled with water. The other woman’s eyes were narrowed, her jaw set, but she didn’t look angry. No, Maya looked worried as hell and was doing her best to try to mask it. It wasn’t working in the slightest.

  “Thank you,” Autumn whispered again, taking the cup from Maya. She gulped half of it down quickly, letting the room temperature water soothe her aching throat.

  “We’ve been in waiting rooms like this way too many fucking times,” Austin growled from his chair across the room.

  Autumn pressed her lips together and nodded as the others agreed. The rest of them started speaking of the earlier times they’d been there for the other Montgomery siblings, and Autumn had to take deep breaths to hold back her tears. Seeing them together like this just reminded her how alone she truly was.

  She had no one.

  It was her fault, of course. She’d been the one to leave that place, but it had been better than staying. She might miss her parents and her brother more than anything in the world, but they hadn’t believed her. They hadn’t stood by her when she’d needed them most. And because of that, she hadn’t been able to lean on them when it truly mattered. Of course, now that she looked back at the young woman she’d been when she’d left, at the fear that had coated her veins, she could see that maybe they did believe but had chosen to ignore it because of their own fears.

  It hadn’t mattered, though. She’d left to protect them as well as herself. It wasn’t safe for her to be with them. She looked around at the Montgomerys and knew she’d have to leave soon. It wasn’t safe for them either.

  It was never safe.

  The doors to the waiting room opened and a nurse wheeled Griffin inside. Autumn stood, her empty cup falling to the floor. Jake squeezed her hand once then left her to wrap his arm around Maya’s shoulders—whether he was merely holding her or holding her back, she didn’t know. Nor did she care right then.

  She only cared about Griffin.

  Dangerous.

  They’d put him in a pair of scrubs—much like the ones she now wore since her clothes had been covered with debris and blood. He leaned against the back of the wheelchair, his body cut and bruised like hers, but his eyes looked alert. His gaze searched the room as his family came up to him, but he didn’t rest on a single person—until he reached her. As soon as their eyes met, his shoulders relaxed and his jaw loosened.

  Autumn blinked, unable to voice her worries, her relief that he was okay. She pulled her gaze from him, unsure of what to do under the scrutiny. Her gaze landed on his right hand and she staggered back into Storm’s solid chest. The cast on Griffin’s hand made her want to retch, her body close to shaking. Her skin went clammy and her mouth dried.

  His hand.

  His work. His life. Oh, God.

  Griffin.

  She met his gaze again and she saw the pain in them this time, the pain that had nothing to do with agony, but with knowing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  The room went silent.

  She nodded, still unable to speak fully other than the few whispers she’d managed before.

  His throat worked as he swallowed again before turning to look at his parents. “I’m okay.”

  “Oh God, Griffin,” Marie cupped her son’s cheeks gently. “What happened?”

  Griffin leaned into his mother’s hold as he spoke about the driver coming at them. Autumn wanted to leave. She felt like a voyeur, someone who shouldn’t be there in the presence of such a tight-knit family. If she hadn’t needed a ride, if she hadn’t reacted as she had to Griffin’s kiss, he wouldn’t be here—hurt and broken. His livelihood wouldn’t be in jeopardy because she was a selfish liar who didn’t deserve the looks of comfort and concern she was getting. She turned to leave, but Storm put his hands on her shoulders. She let out a slight moan, and Griffin turned to her again, his eyes narrowing where Storm touched her.

  “Shit,” Storm whispered. He moved his hands away slowly. “Sorry, honey. I forgot the seatbelt got you.”

  “You should be sitting down,” Griffin said, his voice low.

  “I’m fine, Griffin,” she said, her voice a bit louder than before.

  “You’re coming home with us,” Austin said after a few moments of silence.

  “No, you have the kids at home, he can come home with me,” Wes said.

  Soon, every single Montgomery offered—or rather announced—that Griffin would be staying with them. The show of love and compassion nearly brought her to her knees.

  Griffin shook his head then winced. Autumn had taken an involuntary step toward him before she stopped herself.

  “I just want to go home,” he said finally.

  “You need someone to wake you up every so often,” Meghan said softly. “You can’t be alone tonight.”

  Autumn’s mouth opened before she even realized she was ready to offer. “I’ll take care of him.”

  The Montgomerys turned as one toward her. Talk about intimidating.

  Griffin’s mouth quirked, and she saw the relief in his eyes. He didn’t want everyone around him, seeing him like this. She didn’t know what it meant that he seemed to be okay with her there, but she’d take it. It was the least she could do.

  “I’m at his house most of the time anyway,” she continued. “I don’t have the same responsibilities like you when it comes to kids, health issues, or work.”

  Storm put his hand on the small of her back, and she saw Griffin’s eyes narrow once more. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll drive you, though, since I know you don’t have cars here.”

  She could have hit herself. Damn it. Her car wasn’t working—which scared the hell out of her since she needed it for escape, and Griffin’s car was a loss.

  “We’ll get someone to check out your car, Autumn. That way you have a mode of transportation,” Wes added.

  “And I’ll drop by in the morning to help or get you home if you need to pick things up,” Storm added. “That is if you plan to stay the night. Do you?”

  She blushed for some reason, though she’d been the one to offer to stay the night anyway. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Griffin growled.

  Growled.

  Maybe his pain meds were making him act more possessive than usual. Or maybe she was the one who needed a nap.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You’ll need rest, as well,” Miranda said softly.

  “Then I’ll set an alarm. It will be okay.”

  Griffin glared. “Not the couch.”

  She blushed agai
n before she remembered the size of his home. “I can stay in the guest room. Okay?”

  “Fine.”

  She let out a breath, then let the rest of the Montgomerys ask the questions they needed to and say their goodbyes. Each one hugged her gently before helping them get to Storm’s car. She sat in the back with Griffin in silence; aware that he kept staring at her as if he were trying to figure out what to say. It wasn’t as if she knew what to say either.

  Storm helped her get Griffin into his bedroom and snorted when the man noticed how clean the place was. At least she’d done a good job there. Storm left them with a dip of his head and locked the door behind him, leaving Griffin in his bed and Autumn wringing her hands beside him.

  “I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Griffin whispered.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let one fall. She needed to leave him alone before he saw her cry.

  He reached up with his left hand and touched her cheek. “Autumn…”

  She leaned forward and kissed his temple. “Goodnight, Griffin. I’ll wake you soon.”

  “Autumn…” he repeated.

  She pulled away, the lack of his touch like a cold burn. “Goodnight.”

  She turned on her heel as the first tear fell, knowing Griffin had seen anyway. He was hurt because of her, in pain because of her. And she shouldn’t have been surprised.

  Everyone always got hurt when they got too close.

  ****

  Griffin looked down at his hands and frowned. One held only a scrape or two. The other was fully encased in a cast. The doctors had told him if he hadn’t had his arm out over Autumn’s body the way he had, he may not have broken it. As it was, he didn’t need surgery, but it had been damn close.

  His hand hadn’t saved Autumn’s life, but in that instant, he’d needed to somehow protect the woman sitting in his passenger seat.

  It had been idiotic, but he wasn’t sure he’d have done it differently if he had the chance to do it again.

  Of course now he was royally fucked when it came to his deadline. His editor was sympathetic and had said she would extend it since they still had time. In fact, since he was usually so early with his manuscripts, he could theoretically make his original release date.

  He just had to write.

  How he could do that one-handed, he wasn’t exactly sure.

  He’d been awake off and on all night since Autumn kept coming into his room with her gentle caresses and soft words. She wanted to make sure his minor concussion wasn’t worse than it had been, but it was a new form of agony to have her so close when he was in bed and not able to do anything about it. He cursed at himself. Damn it. He didn’t have any right to want her. Kissing her had put him in this position in the first place.

  He would not be kissing her again.

  And if he kept telling himself that lie, then one day he might believe it.

  “Griffin?” Autumn came into his bedroom with a tray in her hands. “I know you’ve been on the phone off and on all morning, but I made you breakfast.”

  He studied her face, the dark circles under her eyes, and wanted to bring her close, tell her everything was okay. But he knew that wasn’t quite true. He didn’t know what the hell was going on between them, nor did he know what he was going to do with his damn book. But on top of that, he knew she held secrets he wasn’t sure she would ever share.

  Griffin cleared his throat. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast.”

  She set the tray down on the table next to the bed and put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I did. It’s part of the job.”

  He didn’t know why that statement hurt when it shouldn’t have in the slightest.

  Autumn let out a breath. “Plus, I wanted to. You shouldn’t have to move a lot since your brain probably still isn’t happy yet.”

  He raised a brow. “Thanks,” he said dryly.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up. I was…well…I have no idea what I meant by that actually. Anyway, I have breakfast for you. And I’m sure your family will either be here soon en masse, or one at a time according to a prearranged schedule. So, after you eat, we’ll get you showered and dressed and then we can figure out what we’re going to do about your writing.”

  He licked his lips at the thought of her in the shower with him; his hands roaming over her body as he made sure every single inch of her was squeaky clean.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, writer boy. Your hand is broken, not your leg. You don’t need me in the shower with you.”

  He met her gaze. “There might be a need…”

  “Griffin.”

  He closed his eyes. “Sorry. I know we said we wouldn’t talk about what happened in the kitchen, but—”

  “And that would be talking about it,” she interrupted.

  “We should really talk about it sometime.” Who was this guy? Hell, he never talked about relationships. Ever since Lauren, he shied away from talking about feelings and shit unless it was in a book.

  At the thought of Lauren, he paused. What the fuck was wrong with him? He never thought her name anymore. He tried damn hard not to think about her at all. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Or maybe it was all because of the woman in front of him.

  “Or, we can go about our business.” Her gaze landed on his bare chest and froze. When she licked her lips, he had to adjust his boxers. Pink laced her cheeks at the movement and she looked at his face again. “We have to.”

  He tilted his head. “Why do we have to?”

  “Because I work for you. I can’t just sleep with you and then be forced to be in your employment. That’s asking for hurt feelings and issues. Then, of course, you’re hurt; and we need to figure out if you can use software for your work or write one-handed or have me help somehow. I don’t know. But all of that together means I can’t kiss you again. Okay?”

  “I’m the one who kissed you,” he reminded her, knowing he was pushing.

  She shook her head. “I kissed you back.”

  “We can be adults about this.” She moved closer, and he wasn’t sure she was even aware of it.

  “Adults about what? I’m friends with your family, and I’m in your space more often than not. It won’t work, Griffin.” She leaned forward and put her hand on the bed next to him. “It won’t work.”

  He raised his free hand and cupped her face. Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her feet before darting a look back at him.

  “How…how did I get here?”

  He smiled softly. “You walked here on your own. Your mind is saying one thing, your body another. I’m not going to take advantage of you, Autumn, but you have to know you have options.”

  She swallowed hard, a slight tinge of fear entering her eyes that had him worrying. “I never have options.”

  “Tell me, Fall. Tell me what worries you.”

  She pulled away. “I can’t.” Her voice was cold this time, the emotion she’d had before gone. “Let me put your tray over you so you can eat.”

  He grunted, unsure of what to do next, what to say. He wanted to know what made her tick, and she kept pulling away. Was she just a novelty to him? A puzzle? He didn’t think so, but he didn’t want to hurt her if that was all it was. She might be strong as hell, but she also had a fragility about her that not everyone could see.

  “Autumn.” He reached out and gripped her wrist in a gentle hold.

  She flinched, but he didn’t let go. Damn it. Something had happened to her, something he couldn’t name.

  “Autumn,” he said again, this time softer. “I’m here if you need me.”

  “I’m the one who is supposed to be here for you,” she said, not looking at him. “You’re hurt because of me. You’re in pain because of me.”

  He cursed and pulled her closer to him. She ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, and he sat up so he could rest his forehead on hers.

  “Fall.”

  “I hate that nickname.”

  “I know. And never
think this is your fault. It was a drunk driver who hit us. You could have been killed because of him. This was not your fault. Understand?”

  She leaned into him just a fraction of an inch, and the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly. “Your hand, Griffin,” she whispered, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

  “I know. It sucks ass, but we’re going to be okay.”

  She snorted at his words, and he had to smile. “I need to go, Griffin.”

  He used his left hand to tilt her face toward his, their eyes meeting. “I know. But we’re not done here. Far from it.” He brushed his lips across hers, once, twice, a bare breath of touch. He kept his eyes open to see her reaction and wasn’t disappointed. Her pupils dilated even as worry and heat warred.

  He had no idea what he was doing, nor did he know why he was doing it, but he did know he couldn’t stop. He needed this woman, needed to know more about her—just needed her.

  And soon he’d figure it all out. Because if he didn’t, he had a feeling they’d both be broken in the end. He’d been left broken once before, and he wasn’t sure either of them would survive if they had to break again.

  Chapter Eight

  Why Autumn had said yes, she had no idea. Perhaps she’d gone insane. Or maybe she’d been the one who’d hit her head in the accident and not Griffin. How she’d ended up in the middle of a Montgomery family indoor BBQ in a semi-fancy dress and heels, she’d never know.

  It had been three days since the accident, and other than Griffin’s hand, the two of them were almost back to normal in terms of their health. Normalcy in terms of anything else had gone so far out the window, she didn’t even remember what their version of normal looked like.

  He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, and she hadn’t leaned into him, wanting that kiss. Of course, she wanted that kiss, but craving something bad for her was par for the course these days. Griffin was her boss, brother to her friends, nothing more.

  And if she kept saying that, maybe she’d actually believe it, rather than doing something like, oh…coming to his family meal. In a dress.