Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
GRIFFIN
It took a day to get back to Phoenix and catch a flight to Seddledowne. On the plane, I connected to Wi-Fi.
I shouldn’t have.
Liam hadn’t heckled me since we had it out in my grandparents’ yard.
Actually, he hadn’t said a word. But lately, the rest of the internet had taken an interest—mostly in my teenage years.
Which was never good. I didn’t care what strangers thought, but it baffled me that they’d take cheap shots at someone who went out of his way to stay out of the spotlight.
I didn’t know if I’d primed the algorithm or what, but the next reel opened on a portrait of my dad, Bowen, James, and me—one of Granny’s annual beach week photo shoots. This particular gem was from sixth grade. Right when I hit my first growth spurt and my face started breaking out.
I already stood out as the only redhead in the family. But I was also painfully skinny and a head taller than James, who was a year older. Back then, I couldn’t put on weight no matter what I did.
The caption read:
How is this the same Griffin Dupree we see walking around today? (Wait for the close-up.)
I exhaled through my nose and turned up the volume on my AirPods.
A bald TikToker, who looked like he’d crawled out from under a pile of newspapers on a New York street, had green-screened himself, belly-laughing in the bottom right corner.
He zoomed in so that I took up the entire screen.
“Every small town had one kid that looked like this, amirite? Tall for absolutely no reason.”
“It’s called genetics, noob,” I shot back.
The woman in the middle seat glanced over, her expression wary, like she was already regretting not paying to pick her seat.
Baldy continued, “Bro has arms so long he could probably change a lightbulb without a ladder.” He hummed the theme song to Inspector Gadget. “And his hair is doing whatever it wants.” He zoomed in on my cowlick. “He’s not even trying to tame it.”
“Yeah, well…” I muttered. “At least I have hair.”
And he was wrong. I’d fought that cowlick for years. It wasn’t until a Phoenix hairstylist introduced me to the magic of a directional blow-dry and something called Smoothing Serum No. 4, which cost forty dollars, that I finally got it under control.
Baldy did a close-up of my face. “And the skin is going through something. Sir… you were nine and already struggling.”
“I was twelve,” I said under my breath.
I flicked out of TikTok. It was either that or defend myself, which was a terrible idea. People online were always searching for the next witch hunt.
Just then, a text popped up.
Jules
Why does it look like you’re in Kansas?
It’s so hard to tell what someone is really thinking over text. Was she hopeful that I was coming back to fight for her? Nervous that I might show up because she never wanted to see me again?
I’d thought it had hurt when Maggie kissed Bowen, but it was nothing compared to knowing that the love of my life had dropped at least five thousand dollars to retain a lawyer to end us. Yeah, I’d Googled the cost.
Griffin
Why are you checking my location?
I smirked as her texting indicator bounced.
Jules
I was checking on Fallon and saw your location.
Griffin
I mean, if you want a divorce, why haven’t you deleted me from Find My?
Hey. I took hope wherever I found it.
Jules
You’re right. I’ll do that now.
Idiot.
I’d been putting on my tough guy act since the day I left, and it hadn’t won her back. So I tossed it out the window at thirty thousand feet.
Griffin
I don’t want a divorce, Jules. I want you.
It took her three minutes to respond and I felt every one of them.
Jules
Is that why you’re in Kansas? Are you flying back here? Don’t, Griff. It’s over and you coming back won’t change that.
Griffin
I love you, Jules.
Griffin
I love your smile.
Griffin
Love that you laugh at your own jokes.
Griffin
Love how you argue with the TV.
Griffin
I love your heart. I know I had a love at first sight, but do you know when I *knew* it was love?
I didn’t wait for her response, though her bubbles flickered.
Griffin
When you jackknifed into the water to save that girl. I knew then that you were my future wife. If you’d risk your life for a stranger, I could only imagine how hard you’d fight for your own family.
Griffin
Why won’t you fight for us?
Jules
Tell me right now, are you coming home?
I might be stubborn, but I was an expert at reading between the lines. If I told her the truth, it wouldn’t go over well. Heck, she might even run before I made it to Seddledowne. And if I let her get away, that was it for me.
Griffin
I’m heading to a fire. In South Dakota. Our layover was in Kansas.
I turned off my location in case she hadn’t actually deleted me from the Find My app.
When she didn’t text back, it felt like someone cinched a strap around my ribs and pulled—and it didn’t loosen for the rest of the flight.
“You’re a freaking moron,” I muttered as I drove my rental from Charlottesville home. Idjit. Simpleton. Nimrod. Bonehead. Walking bad decision. You name it, I said it to myself.
I white-knuckled the steering wheel as the valley opened in front of my parents’ house and the barn came into view. This was the headquarters for DoubleTake Beauty, apparently. But it was also where Jules had been staying since I left. Seeing her place of residence terrified me.
The fact that my parents let her live there rent-free left me conflicted.
On the one hand, I felt betrayed. Shouldn’t they side with me?
On the other, I was glad she was safe, warm, and loved by my family.
I took it as a good sign that she’d chosen to stay close to my family even when I wasn’t around.
Gramps had also let her use his old ranch truck until she bought herself a car. But when I pulled around the barn, neither Gramps’s truck nor Peyton’s Ruby Red Bronco was there. Every other Dupree truck was, though—and a side-by-side to boot.
A minute later, I stood in the loft apartment doorway, staring at the destruction. Apparently, there’d been a fire, and the sprinklers had gone off, flooding the place. I bomb-whistled, but no one heard, courtesy of the two industrial air movers at either end of the room.
There had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of damage in here. Drywall ruined. Hardwood floors curling up at the edges. Kitchen cabinets warped. Drenched hay from downstairs pushed up through the floorboards, leaving the whole space reeking enough to turn my stomach.
I glanced to my left to see Ford bent over, picking up a loose nail. The perfect position to give him a good shove right in the behind. His rainbow mohawk was gone, replaced by a boring but clean half-inch buzz all over his head.
“We’re going to need to pull up those boards and replace them, for sure!” Bowen yelled above the noise to Dad.
The three of them already looked almost identical anyway, but seeing all of them rubbing their chins with their right hands as they studied the floor made me laugh under my breath.
Gramps, Ashton, Blue, and James were here, too. James was here? Should he be handling a push broom like that? And should he have Willow strapped to his chest?
He had AirPods in, eyes trained on the hardwood, no expression.
Willow must’ve been down for all the noise because she was out.
Dang, she got big while I was gone. She had fat rolls now and long, blond eyelashes.
Grief hit me in the chest—she was basically a mini-Sage.
I wondered whether it hurt James every time he looked at her, or if it comforted him to know Sage had left a piece of herself behind.
“What happened in here?” I hollered.
Dad’s head snapped around, face splitting open. “Griff?”
I strode toward him, and we met in the middle of the room. We gave each other a rib-cracking embrace.
“Seriously, what happened in here?” I asked. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s fine.” He pulled back but kept an arm around my shoulders as he steered me across the room. “Just two women who thought they were chemists for a minute. They’ll be outsourcing from here on out.”
He passed me off to Bowen, who hugged me and handed me to Ashton, who handed me to Gramps, who handed me to Blue, who tried to hand me to Ford.
I sidestepped him with a curt nod. “Hi, Uncle Ford.”
Blue laughed into his fist. “Told you he’s still ticked.”
Ford crossed his arms. “Uncle Ford? You haven’t called me that since…ever. I think you left off a letter.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think I did. You see, Funcle is a coveted title in this family. It stands for favorite uncle. And that would be Funcle Ash, so…”
“Funcle actually stands for fun uncle, I do believe,” Bowen corrected.
“Shhh,” I said. “Either way. It’s still Funcle Ash.”
Gramps chuckled.
“Yes!” Ashton double high-fived me. “It’s been a hot minute since anyone called me Funcle. But I’ll take it.”
“That’s because you got old, cranky, and boring,” Holden said from behind.
He stepped around me and joined the circle.
“I would pretend to be hurt, but I don’t care if I’m anyone’s favorite other than my wife’s.
” He gripped my shoulders and gave me a shake.
“How’re you doing, Griff? Is it good to be home? ”
“Should James really be carting his baby around already?” I asked my dad.
“He’s been cleared to use the carrier,” Dad said.
“Seriously?” Holden said. “You’re going to give me the cold shoulder?”
I dug a finger in my ear. “Can y’all hear that? There’s an obnoxious buzz in the background. Or maybe I’m hearing… dead people?”
“Wow.” Holden let out a short, humorless laugh.
“What’s going on?” Dad’s gaze ping-ponged between Holden and me. “I mean, I get why you’re upset with Ford—”
“Hey.” Ford frowned. “I was just trying to help his wife live her dream.”
“Sure you were,” I said.
“Holden?” Dad asked.
“Who’s Holden?” I asked. “I don’t know anyone by that name?”