Chapter 14 Jacob #2
Griffin’s face falters for the second it takes a breath to pass. Not sad, exactly, more like surprised. And when he nods, slowly, I feel that little tight twist in my chest that I’m trying to pretend is just a muscle spasm and not a catastrophic emotional misfire.
“Okay,” he says, voice measured but with this tiny flicker of disappointment. “Email me when you’ve got it.”
I manage a nod.
And then he turns and walks out with Mack at his side. Mack throws a smile over his shoulder as he leaves and I can’t even muster up the desire to fucking give one back.
“My mom called.”
I really wanted to spew my guts to Hughie about how my brain has somehow decided Griffin Thatcher is my perfect man.
We’ve been parked on the ratty old couch in the living room for what feels like an eternity, watching some supernatural documentary where they’re shouting about portal energies, while Hughie quietly ices his ankle on the coffee table.
He grunts, like he’s trying to make the question sound neutral, “What did she have to say?”
It’s no secret he hates my mom. His dad does too, and honestly? I don’t blame them.
She has this uncanny ability to make every situation about herself, even when she claims to be doing something selfless.
The fact that Hughie and his dad have still shown me nothing but acceptance over the years , even when she hasn’t, makes me love them even more.
They didn’t toss me to the curb when I needed family the most. They stepped in and acted like I mattered.
I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice level even though there’s this weight in my chest that feels like someone hammered a granite block in there. “She’s not coming home for Christmas,” I say, forcing the words out slow. “She told me to go with you.”
It shouldn’t matter. Logically it shouldn’t.
But it feels like I’m a burden almost instantly, like I’m this parcel she’s handing off to Hughie like he has no choice in the matter.
And sometimes I swear he needs a break from me.
Not because he doesn’t care, but because I take up emotional bandwidth I shouldn’t.
“Don’t do that,” Hughie says, eyes scanning mine like he can’t help but read me which, of course, he can. He’s probably the only person on the planet who knows me better than I know myself. “I kind of thought you would come home with me whether or not she was around.”
I shrug, because he isn’t wrong. Even if she hadn’t been too busy for me, I probably would have preferred to go over to Hughies place.
It’s just…I didn’t think I would be forced to ask.
I kind of thought it would come up naturally and he would offer, like he does every year.
And maybe he would have, it’s still really early.
I’m just…still a little raw from my mother’s decision to not include me… .again.
“Didn’t want to impose.”
He scoffs, that familiar mixture of amusement and exasperation that only he can pull off, and gives me that deadpan look. “Dude, you’re family.”
I sigh and close my eyes, pressing the heels of my palms against them to fend off that burning sting that comes whenever my mom’s absence hits a particularly sore spot.
“I seriously just don’t want you to feel like you have to let me come.
Like it’s cool if you need space or whatever with your dad. ”
He lifts the ice pack off his ankle and tosses it onto the coffee table.
“Our dad,” he corrects, sounding more firm than annoyed. “Knock that shit off.”
He says it like it’s obvious. Like I meant nothing and the idea of me not being part of his family is a plot twist he refuses to entertain. And despite the lump in my throat part of me feels this quiet relief.
“Anything else you wanna talk about?” Hughie asks after a moment, when I still haven’t said anything, his voice casual but too knowing to be completely offhanded.
I swallow hard, fighting the ridiculous urge to crawl out of my own goddamn skin, because yes, there’s a million things I could talk about, but every one of them sounds insane the second I try to line them up in my head.
I’m a mess. A twisted-up knot of feelings I don’t really know how to unravel, and I think, no, I know, Hughie already sees it. He’s just waiting for me to catch up to myself.
“I, uh… you were right,” I say finally, dragging the words out slowly.
He raises a brow like he already knows what’s coming. “I usually am. What about this time?”
I roll my eyes and mimic his voice, throwing just enough sass in to distract from how flayed open I feel, “My little crush.”
He snorts and shakes his head, grinning like this is the most predictable outcome in the world. “Okay, so you like Griffin. He’s cool. I get it.”
I narrow my eyes at him and scowl. “I need to not like him.”
He shrugs. “You’re not dumb. You know it won’t turn into anything. Just like… hook up with someone else. Reset your brain.”
I scoff, raising a brow in full dramatic disbelief. “That’s real rich coming from the guy who never hooks up.”
Another shrug because Hughie is the king of being unfazed. “I don’t have the desire to do that.”
And that’s true. It’s something we’ve talked about here and there. Hughie’s relationship with sex is different than mine, and that’s fine. I respect it. I love him for trusting me with it. And I don’t press, because when or if he wants to talk more about it, I’ll be here. No questions asked.
“I just… I don’t know if I can hook up with someone else without, like, envisioning him,” I mutter, the words escaping before I can fully process how much of a walking tragedy I sound like.
Hughie grimaces like I just said something anatomically horrifying. “Fucking gross.”
I shoot him a look and he smirks, because he knows I know I walked into that one.
Then he sighs and sits up straighter, like he’s shifting from best friend mode to big brother mode.
“I know it’s hard. I know that crushes are like…
kryptonite for you. You feel shit too hard.
Always have. But you can’t let yourself get too deep into this.
You can’t get emotionally involved and start building castles in the sky with a guy who’s, like…
ultra straight. And still very much dating Sabrina, who sucks, by the way. ”
He gives me a look and sighs. “I’m not saying you’re not good enough, because you are, dude. You’re fucking awesome. But I don’t want you to get hurt by pining after someone who’s… unavailable. Emotionally, sexually, whatever.”
He’s right.
God, he’s so right it actually hurts.
I’m not an idiot. I know Griffin’s straight. I know he’s in a relationship, even if it’s the hot mess express. I know there are boundaries I can’t cross and lines I won’t blur.
I know all of that, and yet…
Yet.
My brain still replays the way Griffin looked up at me from where he was sitting, all flushed and sleep-soft and shirtless, his hair a perfect fucking disaster.
I still remember the way his shoulder muscles moved under my hands, hot and tight and built like they were sculpted by an ancient god with too much time on their hands.
I can still feel the way his thighs pressed against the outsides of my legs when I stood between them, trying to keep my breath steady while pretending I wasn’t seconds away from absolutely losing my shit.
And yeah, I should just hook up with someone else. Anyone else. I should go out and get laid and move the hell on with my life. But I know that I won’t…or at least, I don’t want to.
And I swear to God, I hate myself just a little bit more for it.
Because I know better.
But I can’t help it.
Oh, fuck my life.