"Oh no," said Griffin. "I'm not ready for you to attack me too."
"I wasn't going to," I said. I paused. "I'm sorry. I guess I jumped to conclusions."
"Yeah, well, she didn't make it easy for you," he said. "I should have explained the situation better to you before we got here."
"That would have been good," I said.
We were quiet. I shuddered in the cold, my teeth knocking against each other.
Griffin pulled me against him. "You're always cold," he murmured.
I was grateful for his warmth. And for how solid he seemed. He could hold me up.
"You really think I would have done something like that?" he said. "Run off on my own kid?"
"I..."
"You don't think very highly of me, do you?"
Guilt surged through me. "I didn't want to think it. It didn't seem right. But it seemed like it was true. It seemed like there was all this evidence."
"I wouldn't, you know," he said. "I don't know if I'll ever have children, but if I did, I would never leave them behind."
Never have kids... "Griffin, did you tell her you were asexual?"
He sucked in a sharp breath.
I waited.
"Yeah."
"A-are you?"
"Obviously not," he said. He kissed my forehead. His voice was a low rumble. "You woke me up."
"How?"
"I don't know." His mouth found mine. "But you did." His tongue teased its way against mine.
I sighed against him. His kisses were fluid and too, too sweet. But this was what he always did. He used them to distract me. I pulled away. "You can't keep running from this."
"Running from what?"
"From whatever you won't tell me," I said. "She asked if we were having sex."
"That's none of her business," he said.
"You told her, didn't you? You told her whatever it is. Whatever you won't tell me."
He let go of me in frustration. "No, doll, I didn't. I don't talk about it. I've never talked about it. And this is hardly the time."
He was right. I was pestering him about why we weren't having sex, and that wasn't the most pressing problem we had. We were in much worse shape than that.
I sighed. "Well, we can't stay here."
"No," he said. "I guess we can't."
* * *
"What are you doing, Griff?" said Beth.
Griffin was grabbing his pack, the one he always carried, and throwing it over his shoulder. I picked up my duffel bag too. "We're leaving."
"Leaving?" she said. She wedged herself in front of him. "Look, forget I said anything. You can't stay on the run. You need to lie low for a while. They're going to catch you."
"What do you care?" said Griffin. "She's just Frank's daughter, right?"
"That's not fair," she said. She turned to me. "I want you both to stay. At least for the night. Where are you going to go right now?"
"I don't know," said Griffin. "We'll figure it out. Don't worry about it."
"Of course I'm worried about it."
He pushed past her. "Well, don't."
She put a hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry. I never meant-"
"Drop it," said Griffin. "You've said enough."
Tears appeared in her eyes.
Despite myself, my heart went out to her. She wasn't a bad person. She just had it bad for Griffin. If he'd never wanted me back, might I have become just like her?
He started toward the door.
"When will I see you again?" she asked.
"Don't know," said Griffin.
"Griffin, you promised you would keep Dixie and me safe."
He stopped moving. "I picked up a phone yesterday. I don't know how long I'll have it, but I'll give you my number. If you need me, you call."
"Thank you," she said.
He looked at her. "Don't call unless there's trouble, okay?"
"Griffin," I said. He was being a little harsh with her.
"You freaked Leigh out," he said. "I'm not cool with people who hurt her. You got that?"
* * *
"You really think we'll be safe here?" I whispered. There was no reason to whisper, but the empty house seemed to demand it.
"It fits with hiding in plain sight, doesn't it?" Griffin's voice was soft as well.
This Nantucket house belonged to my father. I hadn't been sure that it wouldn't have been sold since his death, but it was still sitting empty, and the key was hiding in the place it always had been.
The spacious living room was furnished, but all the couches and chairs had been covered in white sheets. They squatted like oddly shaped ghosts against the wood floor.
I tried the light switch. The light came on. "The electricity's still working," I said in a regular voice. Somehow, the light meant that I didn't have to whisper. "I wonder about the water."
I scampered into the kitchen, also massive, and tried the faucet. Nothing happened. I wrinkled up my nose.
"We can probably turn it on," said Griffin. "I'll look outside." He disappeared back out of the house.
The refrigerator was unplugged and sitting open. There was nothing inside it. I stuck my nose inside to smell. It didn't smell bad. I plugged it in. It hummed to life immediately, a comforting, civilized sound.
I began opening the cupboards. There wasn't much there, but I did find some cans. Crushed tomatoes, chicken noodle soup, corned beef hash. I set the corned beef hash on the counter and hunted down a can opener.
Griffin came back in. "Try the water now."
The faucet sputtered and coughed at first. Then a stream of brownish water came through. Then the water ran clear.
I grinned. "Awesome."
He picked up the can on the counter. "What's this?"
"Breakfast," I said. "It would be better if I had eggs to scramble, but this will have to do."
"Sounds great," he said. "I'm starving."
There was a breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen, just a small table with three wicker chairs. The dining room was bigger, but I'd never eaten in there, even though I used to come here every summer. Griffin settled down in one of the chairs. "So your dad owns this house?"
I got out a skillet and put it on the stove. Luckily the stove was still plugged in. There was an old can of Pam on top of the stove. I sprayed the skillet and set it on the burner. "Yeah. He never made it out here, though. Or at least, very rarely."
"That's too bad," said Griffin. "It's a nice house."
"I came," I said. "My nannies would bring me. And I got to come alone after I was eighteen. Not last year, obviously."
"All alone in this big place?" he asked.
"Well, I used to bring people," I said. "But it wasn't that much fun. I always wanted to have an honest-to-God family vacation."
He groaned. "Oh, you don't know what you're asking, doll."
"You don't like family vacations?"
"The worst," he said. "My sister would get on my nerves on the drive down. My mom would scream constantly at the top of her lungs. All I would want to do is get away from them. They wouldn't let me."
"I guess that's how my dad felt," I said. "Only I couldn't stop him from getting away from me." I used the can opener to open the corned beef hash.
"I'm sure he wanted to be with you."
"He said he did," I said. "He said he couldn't leave work, and he always apologized and bought me consolation gifts. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted him to show up."
"You never had a family vacation here?"
I dumped the hash into the skillet and began to stir. "He came maybe twice. Every other year, he would promise to come but back out at the last minute. I'd be on the phone with him, begging him to come see me, and he'd always say, 'Tomorrow for sure, Leigh.' He'd say that every day until the last day, when I'd be coming home tomorrow, and there wasn't any more time."
"That sucks," said Griffin.
"But he was awesome to you," I said. "That's why you're so loyal to him. That's why you pro
tect me."
"You know, I have a confession to make. And I hope you're going to forgive me afterwards, because it makes me sound a little creepy."
"Creepy?" I said.
"I saw you one day," he said. "Back before I left Op Wraith."
"Me? How?"
"You must have come to see your dad for some reason. It was his birthday, I think."
"Oh yeah," I said. "I was determined to have dinner with him. So I came to his office. And he was mad."
"I wouldn't have been there normally, but I was in a briefing with some of the big guys, and they wanted me to come to their offices instead of coming to me. I saw you arguing with the secretary on my way out. You were so adamant that you were taking your father out. I remember you standing there, your hands on your hips, yelling that he worked too hard, and he needed to take a break, and that it was his birthday for God's sake."
I remembered that. It had been a few weeks before my car accident with Eric. "I didn't see you."
"Well, I said it was kind of creepy. I hid and watched. I wouldn't have had anything to say to you. You were so together and pretty."
"I was?"
"I guess I kind of got a little crush on you. I could tell how much you cared about your dad. And I knew that anyone who cared that much was good deep down. And it didn't seem like anyone around me was good at that time. I felt like I was surrounded by soulless people."
I smiled at him. "It's not creepy. It's sweet."
He got up and came over behind me, winding his arms around my waist. "You're only saying that because you happened to like me back. If you hadn't, then I'd be creepy."
I leaned into him, enjoying the way his body felt wrapped around mine. I stirred the hash. "Maybe, maybe not."
"Anyway, it wasn't just about your dad. He did help me and Beth, and I do owe him. But you always intrigued me. I wanted to know you."
I turned my head to get a look at him. "If that's true, then why were you completely against being involved with me?"
He kissed my neck. "I wasn't against it."
"What?" I disentangled myself from him, facing him, my hands on my hips. "I seem to remember someone going on and on about how it wasn't appropriate and how I would 'distract' him."
"Oh," he said, grinning. "That stuff." He shrugged. "Well, I meant it. I wasn't trying to come here and move in on you while I was trying to protect you. It seemed sleazy." He pulled me against him again. "And you are distracting, you know." He rained kisses down my jaw.
I giggled. "But you knew I was into it. I kissed you."
He lifted his head and gazed into my eyes. "You're pushing again, doll."
"Pushing?" I didn't know what he was talking about.
He heaved a sigh and turned away from me, going back to the breakfast nook.
"Griffin, what the hell?" He was moodier than a teenage girl sometimes, I swear.
"You scared me," he said, tracing the wood grain on the table. "I hadn't... You weren't the first girl to try to kiss me since high school, but you were the first girl who kissed me, and I liked it."
Oh. This was about the asexual thing. The thing that kept him from going all the way with me. I didn't say anything. I didn't want to spook him. I stirred the hash, but it was basically heated through at this point. I turned off the stove.
He didn't say anything else. I watched him stare at the table.
"Griffin?"
He shook his head.
I got out some plates from the cabinet and dished up our breakfast.
"I can't find the words," he said as I put the plates on the table. "I don't even know how to talk about it."
I took his hand. "It's okay. You'll figure it out."
He drew me into his arms, pressing me tight against him.
* * *
"That guy." I pointed. Griffin and I were standing behind a stack of Nilla Wafers in the grocery store, peering at a man in a black suit. He was putting peanut butter in his cart.
"I don't recognize him," said Griffin.
"Does that mean he's not Op Wraith?" "He's probably not," said Griffin. "But I don't know everyone who works there."
"Right," I said.
"We can't keep hiding behind the Nilla Wafers," he said. "It looks suspicious. Move the cart."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. If he's Op Wraith, I'll take him out. But we'll wait for him to make a move."
I inched my cart out, casting glances over my shoulder. The suit disappeared at the end of the peanut butter aisle. I let out a breath.
"Chances are that they don't even know where we are," he said. "Chances are we're safe."
"For now," I said. "But maybe they've got spies or something. Maybe someone will see us at the supermarket and report that I'm here. People might recognize me around here."
"Maybe," said Griffin. "But I don't think so." He strolled ahead of the cart, and I had no choice but to follow him. He picked up a pack of ground beef. "How do you feel about hamburgers?"
"Get the 90/10," I said.
"It's more expensive."
"It's got less fat. Therefore more meat. And it's better for you."
He exchanged the packages. "Should we have made a grocery list?"
I looked around for the guy in the suit. I didn't see him. I didn't see anyone suspicious. But that didn't mean they weren't watching.
"Come on," said Griffin, "stop doing that. You look scared to death. Now, we are a normal couple, shopping for groceries on a romantic trip to Nantucket. Act natural."
"Okay," I said. I took a deep breath. "Let's get pasta. You like pasta, right?"
He smiled. "Love it."
I turned the cart, and we headed to the pasta aisle. I scrutinized the options. "What shape?"
"I'm a big fan of spaghetti," said Griffin.
"Boring," I said.
"Classic," he said.
I picked up a box of rotini. "How about this?"
"Fine with me," he said.
"Now we just need sauce," I said. "Do you like chunky or-"
The man in the suit appeared at the end of the aisle. I couldn't breathe.
Chapter Thirteen
"How about Prego?" said Griffin, picking up a jar.
"Sure," I said in a tiny voice.
He took the cart from me. I followed him.
"Leigh," he whispered, "you are not acting natural."
"I'm sorry," I said. I couldn't help it. I kept picturing that guy in a suit whipping out a gun and opening fire on both of us, jars of tomato sauce getting hit in the crossfire, splattering the floor.
It would be red. Like blood.
And then I thought of Stacey. Her blank eyes.
I felt like throwing up.
Griffin was pushing the cart ahead of me. I had to catch up.
"We need milk and eggs," he said as I drew close to him. He seemed cheery and loose. I hated that he was so good at that. I was a knot of tension.
"Let's just get this over with," I said. "Buy whatever you want, but buy it fast. I want to go back to the house."
He kissed my temple. "Trust me, doll. I won't let anything happen to you."
* * *
"Geez," said Griffin, "you really did make too many French fries."
"I know," I said, surveying the cookie sheet that sat on top of the stove, still piled with fries. We'd finished gorging ourselves with hamburgers and potatoes, but there were all these remaining. "I guess I thought it would be better to have too many than not enough."
"Should we put them in the refrigerator?"
"I don't think so. Have you ever had warmed-over fries? They really don't reheat well. They're all soggy and funny tasting."
"So I should toss them?" he said.
"I think so."
He shook his head. "What a waste."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm teasing." He took the cookie sheet to the trash can and dumped the contents inside. Then he handed it to me.
I loaded it into the dishwasher. "I love having a
dishwasher. If my apartment in Thomas had a dishwasher, it would have been perfect."
He smiled. "When were there dishes in Thomas? You cooked food that wasn't in a prepackaged disposable container a whole two times while I was there."
"I cooked more than that."
"Nope. You didn't. I noticed, because you happen to be a really good cook, and I was looking forward to more cooking."
I beamed. "You were?"
"Absolutely."
I leaned in close and kissed him.
He put his arms around me and trapped me against him, deepening the kiss.
His mouth against mine awakened longing within me. I pressed myself against the length of his body, wanting to be as close as possible.
He made a growling noise in the back of his throat, his fingers sliding under the hem of my shirt.
I pulled back. "Let's take this upstairs. I want to use that big bed for something other than crashing." Last night, we'd been too exhausted to do anything more than put sheets on it. The minute we'd lain down, we'd been asleep.
Griffin laughed, a deep rumble. Without warning, he picked me up.
I shrieked. "You have to stop doing that."
"Really?" he said. "I could put you down."
On the other hand, it was nice to feel so small and safe. "Okay, I lied. Never stop doing that."
He carried me up to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed. I screamed with laughter as I bounced on the mattress.
He crawled on after me.
I raised myself on my knees and met him halfway. I kissed him and thrust my hands inside his shirt, over his smooth stomach.
He made a strangled noise. He caught my hand. "Hold it."
I groaned, pulling my hand back. "Griffin, what's going on with you?"
He clenched his eyes shut. "It's fine. You can do that. It's fine."
"Really?" I said, smiling.
He opened his eyes. "Yeah."
I put my hands back, exploring the planes and angles of his body. He was powerful and firm, but also silky under my touch. I ran my fingers over him, pulling off his shirt, pushing him back on the bed. I seized the front of his pants, undoing the button.
And I was on my back suddenly, the wind knocked out of me.
Griffin stood at the edge of the bed. He'd thrown me off him.
I sat up.
"This was a bad idea," he said. He looked anguished.
Guilt stabbed me. "I'm sorry. I pushed. I shouldn't have tried to-"
"You should be able to do that, though," he said. "You should be with someone who will let you touch him."
I reached out and took his hand. "Come here."
He sat on the edge of the bed. "It's not your fault, doll."
"Can't you talk to me? I don't understand."
He swallowed. He took a deep breath. He fiddled with his hands. He looked down at his stomach, staring at the crude tattoo there. He closed his eyes. "I can't."
Slow Burn Page 15
