3. GRIFFIN
Griffin
“F uck!” I chuck my manuscript across the living room, my gaze narrowing as a flurry of papers falls to the floor. The soundless sight angers me even more, the despair of not being able to finish this book settling in. Needing something with a little more oomph, I tear the lamp resting beside me out of the wall and chuck that too. It hits one of the cushions on the side of the couch and bounces softly onto the carpet, the light slowly dimming until there’s just darkness.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
The deadline is in three weeks and every ending to this book I write out isn’t working. I know why and it has nothing to do with crafting an imaginary world where four men fall in love with each other and everything to do with the sixth anniversary of losing my best friend and high school sweetheart closing in.
In two days, I’ll relive the moment my heart was ripped from my soul, the moment when she left thinking that I wasn’t there to catch her when she needed to fall. We might have been young and dumb but I imagined a forever with that sweet brown-eyed girl. I still have the letter she left on her bed, the one that merely just said goodbye in her soft handwriting.
“Hey man, you ready to graduate! We did it!”
A few of the other fraternity brothers clap me on the back but I don’t feel the same excitement for this day. My girlfriend just ran up to me and told me goodbye. She didn’t want me to see through her little lie but it was there, plain and simple. My heart hurt as I watched her leave, wondering where she would take off. Not far. She never did.
Her little stints usually had her wandering the little shops on the main street next to the university before ending up at mine. This time, however, her words have me on edge. Something is wrong.
“Griff! Get over here. We’re taking pics, man!”
I shake my head and take off down the very same street Luna did, intent on catching her before she leaves. I need to know what she meant and where that fearful look in her eyes came from. It’s not her mother. Luna has never been terrified of that piss-poor excuse of a parental figure.
Holding my breath, I take every shortcut I know to get to her house, grunting when her Toyota Camry isn’t parked across the street.
Shit, I’m too late.
I burst inside, growling at her mother sprawled on the couch, a few empty beer bottles scattered on the floor, as I take the steps by two and find the worst possible thing waiting for me. A letter and her phone beside it. Luna always leaves me a letter but it always says she’s coming back. She’s never gone more than a few hours before I find her curled up in my bed.
The words I find in that letter break my heart. She’s not coming back and I can’t help but feel that I wasn’t enough to protect her from whatever was chasing her.
“Where the fuck is your daughter?” I find myself screaming at Luna’s mother when I return to the main level, Luna’s letter crunched in my hand.
Her mother stirs and sits up before shrugging. “She’s gone?”
I still wonder what happened to her, why she had to leave, why she left me . Why had she apologized to me? Had she done something? Had I? In the last six years, despite pestering her mother for information until she skipped town, I’ve come up empty every time. There was no reason for her to leave, not that I knew of but as I dwell on my last moments with her, I realize the fear in her eyes started weeks before she left.
God, I feel so stupid. I should have said something sooner. Maybe she wouldn’t have left…
There’s a hole where her love should be and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repair it. Unfortunately, as far as deadlines go, that’s not an apt reason to throw at my publisher. Heartbreak? He’ll either tell me to get over it, push through it, or write it into the book.
Like I haven’t fucking tried.
A rogue sigh falls from my lips as I shift uncomfortably on a couch that should be in a 1960s catalog. A dark lavender with the scratchiest cushions known to man sits against upright, immovable backs. I’m sure that it was only meant for decoration but because it was gifted to us by the older woman who handmakes fabrics down the street, we can’t just… get rid of it. We’ve tried but small towns talk and everyone would know before we even moved it into the truck.
Moving to the edge of the couch, I place my bare feet on the floor and dangle my arms off of my knees, my hands clasped together as I hang my head. All of this shit shouldn’t be that fucking hard. A tendril of guilt worms its way into my chest when I remember Nova’s offer to share his bed. My lover and my lawyer—pretty sure that’s some weird conflict of interest—has been living in this fantastic little apartment with me and our other roommate, Rome, for almost three years.
We work like a well-oiled machine, Rome owning the small café just down the street on Spring Haven’s main business strip and Nova’s law office a few doors farther down. My makeshift working space is on the first level of our apartment and I’m not sure I could have found a better setup. We have steady jobs and as a writer, I can play the introvert card and stay tucked inside.
I should be tucked in Nova’s fucking bed.
Just imagining his thick arms banded around my back as his musk suffocates me makes me angrier than I already am. I’m self-sabotaging for a woman who probably doesn’t even remember me. The fact that Nova puts up with this nonsense is a blessing.
The eerie sound of our front door screeches through the darkness and my hackles raise as I sit farther forward. A cool breeze wafts into the living room from the night air, sending chills down my back. Winter was over months ago but Spring Haven never seems to get the message. Thank god it doesn’t fucking snow out here though. It takes my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness but when I see red hair, my heart drops into my stomach.
“The fuck you doing here?” I whisper-yell. God forbid I wake up Nova or Rome. They will have my ass for disrupting their beauty sleep, especially when I’m also supposed to be sleeping. Not to mention that it was definitely my job to lock the door for situations just like this .
The red hair swishes around and then falls ungracefully as the body it's attached to stumbles over the trash can. She hisses and sits up, pulling out her phone and turning on the flashlight. “Where the fuck are your lights?”
My brows raise as I drink in the woman sitting on my floor. Long red hair, bright blue eyes, and a severe lack of clothing that matches the weather. Pretty sure she waltzed in here in her underwear. “Where the fuck are your clothes?” I throw back at her. I’m really hoping she’s not who I think she is.
“Ah, there it is.”
The lights switch on and I groan as her gaze turns back to me. Casey, my fucking editor sent by Shepard’s Press, is in my apartment right now wearing a tan pea coat that’s open and showing off lingerie the same color as her hair. Her gaze lingers on my body, the tattoos on my arms and chest fully exposed as well as the metal bars shoved through my nipples because of a dare. I’m not ashamed of my body but her leering eyes make me feel naked. I scramble back onto the couch, dragging a blanket up over my shoulders. “Casey, why in the world are you coming into our apartment at…” I look around wildly for a clock. “ Two am? ”
She huffs a sigh as if I’m supposed to feel sorry for her, coming closer until she’s at the edge of the couch. “Griffin, seriously? Why do you keep fighting this? We shared a wonderful night together and-”
I let go of the blanket and hold up a hand while massaging the bridge of my nose with the other. I sift through many fuzzy memories aided by a few shots of whiskey the past couple nights but her presence is mysteriously absent. Except for… no. There’s no fucking way I gave into Casey’s advances. I’ve dated a few women over the years and Casey is gorgeous but not my type. She’s also the complete opposite of Luna St. Claire , my brown-eyed beauty.
Casey is reaching forward before I can stop her, her fingers dangerously close to my cheek when a deep voice rough with sleep reverberates through the room. “You touch him and I’ll sue you for assault.”
She immediately retracts her hand with Nova’s appearance, my lover moving into the room with black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His black and silver wisps of hair are a mess, dangling around his sharp cheekbones but that only makes him sexier. He might have just woken up but I’d still climb him. He is smothered in tattoos the same I am but his extend all the way down his arms to his hands and up his back. There’s been more than one night I’ve enjoyed trailing them with my tongue until he flips me over and fucks me into oblivion. A quick glare in my direction tells me that he knows what I’m thinking about and that this isn’t the time.
“Carey, what are you doing here? Where are your clothes?” Nova approaches, standing beside me, his form so much taller than Casey’s.
She scrunches up her nose. “It’s Casey . Look, Griffin and I have a thing and I wanted to-”
I still don’t remember doing anything with this woman, just like I don’t remember doing anything with the last two editors. Shepard’s Press needs to stop sending these goddamn women into my peaceful little town of Spring Haven. Whatever warped vision they have of the tattooed author that writes needs to be dispelled immediately because, despite my looks and the tortured romances I spit out, I would rather hide away in a room than spend time with people I don’t know.
It takes me a moment to notice that she’s stopped talking. Casey has buttoned up her coat, her chin raised high as she silently battles Nova’s hardened stare. I twist to see his arms folded across his chest, anger lurking beneath the surface. If I don’t break this up, there’s a very real chance something might happen. Nova’s words can be sharp and I’m not sure Casey is ready for what he’s about to dish out.
“Casey, Carey, does it matter?” Nova growls out. “You come in here, into my home, and for what? Hope that Griffin will jump at the chance you’re offering?” His laugh is bitter and a shiver runs up my spine. He’s going to take his anger out on me later in the most delicious ways. Butterflies flit through my stomach seconds before my chin is roughly ripped toward Nova, his fingers digging into my jaw. I gasp at the contact, my eyes locking with his dark blue ones. “Besides, Casey , you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
And then he smashes his lips to mine, demanding my submission. I willingly give it to him, knowing that Nova needs to stake his claim. The past two editors have tried something similar and I’m not sure where I’m steering them wrong or if the bad boy persona the company has built is working against me.
His tongue slips into my mouth as my fingers wiggle for something to latch onto and settle for the blanket gathered at my waist. I know the moment I hold onto Nova that he’ll haul me off to the bedroom without any regard for Casey being in our home. He breaks away, still holding my chin for several seconds before releasing me and turning back to the woman.
“Are you done here?”
“I thought…”
“He doesn’t like you . Now, I’m sure you can find your way home. We’ll let Maximillian know that we’ll be needing a new editor.”
Her eyes widen at the threat, her fists balled at her side. She stomps her foot like a fucking toddler before she speaks. “Seriously? He started it!”
Nova tenses beside me before rounding the couch and stepping toward Casey. She trembles and takes a step back as he folds his arms across his chest again. “Casey, you were hired to edit a book. A book. The chance to work closely with the author was an opportunity, not a given. However, you’ve been here for what—four days? I haven’t seen one line edit, not one professional discussion about the book . You’ve come in here asking all sorts of questions about his private life, demanding to know his favorite color and whatever other bullshit the fans want to know. And then we share a few drinks, trying to relax and you see that as flirting? Casey, I’m not sure what they’ve been teaching you or what they’ve been telling you—whoever they are—but it’s wrong.”
She swallows nervously, sparing me a glance. “There’s been talk. You’ve been through a few editors and they-”
Fuck. I knew Shepard’s Press was going to spin some shit like that to up my bad-boy persona. Maximillian is a straight shooter but his PR manager, Yana, is a chaos magnet. She enjoys the drama and while it does sell more books, I don’t want to deal with that. My book launch last year was overshadowed by a possible pregnancy even though I had never even met the woman. It didn’t matter. It sold books and everyone was happy, although Maximillian kept trying to dig up details about our first meeting.
It was about time I put my foot down, though. Maximillian would understand. He would have to because I’m not sure Nova was going to take this much longer.
Nova leans down, those blue eyes blazing into hers, a nasty sneer on his lips. “Casey, your presence isn’t needed here anymore. Not as an editor and definitely not in my apartment. See yourself out.” Casey waits a few seconds to see if we are serious before fumbling with the doorknob and throwing herself out the door. I’m pretty sure she was sniffling as she left but I am just grateful that the intrusion is gone.
I slump against the cushions just as Nova’s attention switches to me. Whatever he is about to say is cut off by Rome appearing from his bedroom just off the left of the living room. “Is she gone? God, she was weird. I guess I’m calling Max, yeah?” We all nod knowing that I don’t want to deal with it and Nova is too wound up to say anything professional.
Nova stalks toward me, hands placed on the back of the couch as he bends over me. “Want to tell me why you’re sleeping out here?” Venom drips from his words but I know it’s only because he cares. Nova wants the best for us but has a harder time with me because I’d run myself ragged before giving in. Case in point, staying up rather than talking through my demons and sleeping. He searches my expression before his softens, one of his tattooed hands moving to cup my cheek in his large palm. “Babe, you have to deal with this. Not just because of the book but in general.”
Nova has been watching me fall apart for years around this day and it never gets any better. With a book launch in the next month or two, I don’t have time to disappear into my head. “I know,” I whisper. “I know.”
He places a gentle kiss on my lips before standing back up and gesturing to his room. “You’re coming back with me to talk and then sleep.”
“No talking,” I grunt. What happened to the absolute angry pounding I thought I was getting?
“Fin, we have to talk eventually. You’ve been dealing with finding that letter for years and I will not let you stand by and run yourself into the ground over it.” Nova isn’t angry at me for never getting over Luna. In fact, he has offered to find her once or twice but I’m terrified. What if her goodbye really meant she no longer wanted to speak with me? My heart would shatter.
It isn’t like I haven’t tried doing my own searches but I always come up empty. The one time I found her–or at least someone I thought was her–I was told that she wasn’t available to speak with me.
Still, I stand up and share a silent nod with Rome as we pass him before stepping into Nova’s room. The heavy thud of his door sends shivers down my spine as Nova steps up behind me, placing a kiss on my shoulder. His hands fall to my waist, bringing me flush against his chest. In the next second, he turns me around to face him, his lips hovering over mine. “I love you, Fin. I will always love you. However, the hole in your heart can’t be repaired by ignoring it.”
“What are you saying?” I hiss.
“I’m saying that it’s time to find her, to figure out what happened, to put it to rest.” Nova presses a kiss to my lips, another one of those delicate ones. His gentle touch is vastly different from how he usually handles me. “And if that means that I share you with that woman in your head, I will. Or if I have to hold you until it stops hurting, I will. You won’t lose me Griffin but I can’t lose you either. Not to her and not to the demons in your head.”
Having both Nova and Luna? That fantasy has never crossed my mind. I just wanted to know that Luna was safe, that she had made it to whatever her destination had been. As much as her disappearance hurt me, I just want to know that she is okay.
“Come on, let’s sleep. I’m sure a new editor will be here in the morning that we’ll have to field off and you need your strength.”
“Why do they keep sending them?”
Nova chuckles as he pushes me toward the mattress and shoves me onto the bed. I fall with a plop before scooting under the covers, Nova sliding in after me and dragging me to his chest. “Because you are the most loveable, neurotic, chaotic writer I know. You need a little push in the right direction and you’re notorious for avoiding editors because you don’t like dealing with them. However, after this last one, I’m not sure this is working any better.”
I stifle a laugh, pressing my nose into his chest. He always smells like lemon and musk, a scent that is naturally his mixed with his bodywash. “Thanks for putting up with me,” I mutter.
A firm hand slides around the back of my neck and squeezes, demanding my full attention as I look up at him in the darkness. “Griffin Solace, I am not putting up with you. I’m in love with you. I have loved you for a while. I am here in this bed not as your lawyer or your friend or a pity fuck. You hold a piece of my soul, Griffin Solace and I need you to remember that.”
My face flames with his declaration. “But-” His brow raises, daring me to push back but there isn’t anything to say. I might feel like a burden but Nova reminds me every goddamn day that that isn’t the case. “Fuck, I love you too, Nova Barlowe.”