Chapter 25
Griffin
“Should I be concerned?” I glance at Tanner quickly before grabbing the jar of sweet pickles I know he keeps here at the distillery restaurant.
“Nothing to be concerned about.”
I wonder if I should grab two. Nowhere else in Whispers is open at this time of night, and when Savannah said she had a craving, I knew Tanner was the only one who could help.
So I called him and made him meet me at the distillery.
I swipe a jar of Sutton’s honey while here, knowing that might be nice for Savannah too. Something sweet to balance the sharp.
“It’s ten p.m. You’re rifling through my cupboards like a poor man on a hunt for food.”
“Savannah had a craving. I didn’t have anything at home.” I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. Even though it is. Even though it means something.
“’Bout time you sorted that out, then, isn’t it?”
I pause and look back at him. “Sorted what out?”
“Your place. There’s a baby on the way. You’re running around in the middle of the night, getting her pickles, for fuck’s sake.
Clearly, this isn’t a onetime thing. Savannah and you, you get each other.
I see it. So, get your place stocked, sorted, fucking furnished.
Make it a home. For you, her, and the baby. ”
Tanner’s eyes narrow on me.
A home. I’ve never had one. Not a warm, welcoming, safe one. I swallow hard, the anxiety of creating one filtering through my body like acid. It burns. Makes me feel like I might puke.
“What are you distilling here anyway?” I change the subject, eyes scanning the busy rooms. A small night crew hums around us, quiet and focused. Tanner always has something brewing.
“I got a new batch on,” he admits.
“You gonna let me buy in yet or not?” I’ve been asking for years. Tanner keeps his whiskey close to his chest. How he distills it, what he and Connor own, the brand deals.
“Maybe?” He watches me carefully. I try to school my features. He usually shrugs me off. I’m shocked at the shift.
“Seriously?”
“Why not? You pretty much built this entire distillery with me. New spa, and now the accommodations are almost done. You remodeled Marie’s Place next door. You built my new ranch, where I now live with my family. You built Connor’s place. Hell, you built all the homes on Billionaire Boulevard.”
I look at him, silent. Not refuting a word. I’ve built it all. I’ve constructed Whispers with him. Brick by brick. But I never let myself live in it.
“Now your place is finished, are you going to call Whispers home?” He brings the conversation back to me. My home. My place in the world.
I’ve spent decades hiding, running, not committing, not settling down. Not building a life where I can just be. Because I can’t just be. The memories swirl too much. But I want it. I’m getting old. I want to settle. Have roots. I just have no idea how to do it. Not sure anything will work.
“Maybe.” My jaw is tight. My chest tighter.
“Then maybe I’ll let you buy in on this next batch.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “What are you thinking?” My interest is piqued.
“It’s small. Boutique. I’ll sell it through our hospitality arm, the one we run out of New York with Valerie Van Cleef. High end. Luxurious. Unavailable to the masses. Something people keep. Something people cherish. Something people have in their homes.”
“What return are we looking at?” I want to talk numbers. Not because I need the money. If I buy in, it isn’t about the returns. It’s about something else. Something that tethers me to this town. To my friends. To the idea that maybe I belong.
“I’m thinking fifteen to twenty percent on this one. It’s almost ready for bottling. Lacy’s done a good job of marketing it.” He nods to himself, clearly proud of his team. He should be.
“What’s it called?”
“The Builder’s Arms.” He looks at me seriously for a moment, and it registers. I stand there, stunned. He’s had this planned all along.
“I’ve had this whiskey aging in old oak barrels since we turned the first soil on the distillery over twenty years ago.
” He continues, and I feel my throat tighten.
“You made a comment back then. Something about the soil being black and the old oak trees on the perimeter of the land being so brown.”
“The soil so black and rich, like it’s been feeding generations, and the oak trees looked like old leather and memories. It was like the land had been holding its breath, waiting for something sacred to grow,” I whisper. The recollection is clear. Sharp. Still alive in me.
“I remember.”
“You’re still holding your breath, Griff.” Tanner’s voice is low. Like he’s handing me something fragile. “Probably about time you started to put down roots of your own and grow.”
He reaches out his hand for me to shake. A gentlemen’s deal. Letting me buy in on what will no doubt become one of his most profitable and most personal whiskeys ever made here at Whiteman’s.
I shake his hand, firm and strong. My eyes go a little glassy. I don’t know exactly when things started to feel different for me around here. But a few months ago, walking into that bakery, I think that was the first step. The first inhale. The first crack in my armor.
“Better get those pickles back to her. A hungry pregnant woman is not one you should battle with. Believe me, I know.” I huff a laugh and nod in agreement, knowing that Victoria and his little girl Amber are both probably at home, where he wants to be.
Walking out of his distillery, the night sky is clear, still.
There's no wind, and I take a deep breath, filling my lungs. First a house, now the whiskey… Looks like my roots are already established here in Whispers. And I’m holding a jar of pickles for a woman who might be the start of something sacred.
My mind was busy the entire drive back to the bakery. Thinking about Tanner’s offer, his words, and the memories of when we started building the distillery. Of when I first arrived in Whispers. Feels like yesterday but also feels like a lifetime ago.
I slowly step up the stairs, lost in my thoughts, my body so wide I almost have to sidestep each one. I think about Savannah walking up and down these stairs every day with the baby. The trip hazards here, the baby proofing that still needs to happen. There’s a lot to consider.
“Why are you frowning?” she asks as soon as I breach the doorway.
I look up, seeing her sitting in bed with her baby book.
“I think you should come and live with me,” I say without hesitation.
Her eyes widen. “Live with you?” she confirms.
“At least for a while, just when the baby arrives…” My brain scrambles to think of a reason she might agree with.
Anything other than I want you with me all the time.
“The stairs, they’re not good for you or the baby.
” Clearing my throat, I open the jar of pickles and grab a fork from her kitchenette.
“Not good?” She watches me with curious eyes as I walk over and sit in the chair beside her bed, passing her the opened jar.
“Tripping hazard for you now, and when the baby’s older, they might fall down them.”
“I’ll put up baby gates,” she reassures me, but it doesn’t have the desired effect.
“But how about you having to lug a baby carrier and groceries up and down. And, uh, my bed is bigger. I… have a big bath for you to enjoy after a long day, but also to make it easier to clean up the baby…” I tell her all the things that are now swirling in my mind.
Where the hell is she planning on bathing the baby? Her little shower isn’t going to work.
“Where’s your head at tonight, Griff?” she asks, watching me with nothing but kindness and love.
“On you. It’s always on you,” I admit as I look over her apartment. It’s small, with no extra space, nowhere a baby can play. A baby can barely take its first steps in this small space.
Her cheeks flush at my response. She swallows audibly before asking, “Did something happen when you were out?”
“Tanner offered me to buy in,” I tell her.
“Buy in?”
“On the whiskey. A new release called The Builder’s Arms. It’s something I’ve been asking him for years for. He’s never given me any indication that he would. Almost became a running joke.” I rub my face, still not believing it.
“Well, that sounds nice? I mean, you do have nice arms.” She bites into the pickle, looking at me adorningly. “Oh… so good…” She talks with her mouth full, and I grin at being able to satisfy her craving.
“He thinks I should be settling down. Putting down roots.”
She nods, pausing mid-bite. “What do you think?”
“I’d like to. Just not sure how. Not sure if I…” I take a deep breath, my heart rate escalating, fear creeping in on all sides.
“If you deserve it?” She finishes off exactly what I was thinking.
I lower my head. I can’t look at her. I feel so ashamed. Ashamed that I couldn’t save my brother. Ashamed that I couldn’t save my mother. Ashamed that I never was the man they needed me to be. Worried that I can’t be that man for her. “Yeah…” is all I can say.
“How did you become a builder?” She puts the jar and fork down on the nightstand and turns to fully face me.
I look up, not expecting that question. “I was a kid traveling through Whispers. Caught the bus here, trying to find something new. Running from the heat I had on me back home. I had some experience in construction, did a shop class every day in juvie, and had an eye for detail. Spent a few years working with a crew in Northern Missouri, where I learned to hammer a nail before I learned to read properly. At least my dad was good for something. Drunk most of the time, but his laboring work meant he passed down some skills to me. When I bounced around foster homes, I always had a pencil in my hand and was drawing. Not art or anything like that, but plans, designs. I liked the idea of designing and building houses for people. Especially since I didn’t really have one.
Ended up here at a small bar on Main Street, which has now turned into the Whiteman’s Bar, and that’s where I met Tanner. ”
“And all these years later, what do you think makes a house a home?”
Blinking wordlessly, I stare into her beautiful eyes. I build the walls, the ceilings, the gardens, the floors. I build pools, spas, hotels, bakeries…
“The one thing I’ve been waiting my whole life for… but never felt good enough to have,” I tell her, then almost hold my breath.
“What have you been waiting for, Griff?” she whispers, undeniable hope shining in her gaze.
“Someone like you,” I whisper back, and unable to wait a second longer, I reach out, cupping her face and bringing her lips to meet mine.
I kiss her. Languidly. Wanting to savor this moment.
As her soft lips touch mine, it feels like we’re suspended in time.
Half of me can’t believe it. Can’t believe I’ve found a woman who matches me.
That accepts me for who I am. The other half is scared.
Scared I’ll mess this up. That my past will make it too hard for me to move forward, to accept that I’m worthy.
But I know the truth. I’ll never feel worthy of this woman.
And I also know I’ll never let her go. As I pull back slowly, I look at her, her eyes searching mine, and I grab her hand, our fingers entwining so effortlessly.
Knowing it’s the truth. Knowing she’s what will help make my house a home. She and the baby.
“Well then…” She clears her throat. “We better go.” She starts to get up, breaking our moment, pulling the blanket off her as she shimmies to the edge of the bed.
I frown, totally confused as I look up at her. “Go? Go where?”
“The hospital. My water just broke.”
My heart stops beating before picking up speed.
“Your what?” I stand abruptly, panic making my insides curl.
“It appears this baby thought making a home with you, Griffin, was all it needed. Now it’s coming.”
“Oh shit.” I help her out of bed, feeling warm all over. “Sweetness?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. My heart is thumping in my chest like it never has before. Fear. Excitement. Love. All overwhelming me yet fulfilling me in equal measures.
“It’s alright. We’ve got this,” she tells me, squeezing my hand tight. Giving me her strength. Her water just broke, she’s about to have a baby, and she’s comforting me?
I take a breath and settle myself. I need to step up. I have to be the man she needs. I couldn’t be one before, for my mom or my brother, but I’m not going to let her down.
“I’ve got you.” Kissing her head, I grab her bag and help her down the stairs before breaking every speed limit known to man on the way to Whispers Hospital.