Chapter 34 Aria
Aria
Aria knows Griffin’s priority won’t be to text back when he exits the field via truck, but by Monday afternoon, she’s itching for a reply. This morning she went for a walk, hoping to take her mind off it, and eventually she searched for news online.
“Griffin Hayes Suffers Concerning Injury to Knee.”
“Will Griffin Hayes, Golden Boy, Bounce Back Again?”
“Bestie to Aria Wilder Taken Down Unreasonably.”
Aria stifles a laugh at the last headline, but it makes sense as soon as she discovers the article links to a fashion blogger’s site.
One would think that Aria, in supposed best friend position, would be able to garner some insight, but she’s left speculating and pondering just like everyone else. She checks her messages again, confirms again that they have been delivered.
Aria heads down to the studio, striking a deal with herself that if she can work for forty-five minutes, she’ll call Griffin after.
It’s playing games like this with herself that allows her to work even when she doesn’t feel like it.
The public assumes that making music is as glamorous as it’s often made out to be, but ultimately it’s a business where she owes work on a deadline.
Case in point are the calls she’s been dodging from Gerald at Worldwide Records, checking in on her album progress.
Typically she sends clips of raw tracks as she works, but this time she hasn’t.
Aria knows that if she wants to sell a slightly new direction, she’ll need to polish them up before sharing.
Down in the studio, Aria can’t settle. She moves between her guitar and the piano, back to the couch for lyrics.
Eventually she dials Griffin, with less than forty-five minutes of unproductive work.
The phone rings and rings, and eventually it goes to voicemail.
For the first time, Aria starts to worry.
Of course she was concerned when Griffin got injured, but seeing him get up and even wave to the crowd assuaged her immediate fears.
Now that he is off camera—presumably resting or preparing for treatment—Aria’s mind slips back to the moment of terror when he went down and didn’t get back up.
She pages back through their texts to look for his address. The two had been texting about Chicago popcorn, and when Griffin admitted that he hadn’t tried Aria’s favorite flavor, CheeseCorn, she ordered some to be sent to him.
Aria finally finds Griffin’s address. There’s a chance he’ll be startled by Aria showing up on his doorstep, but she’s also not willing to sit and wonder about all the horrible fates Griffin might be enduring.
As she drives to his building, her maps app leading the way, Aria lists all the reasons it’s a good idea for her to show up: Maybe he needs help, probably he needs groceries, meal prep won’t be easy with a bum leg.
Not to mention he might enjoy the company.
Showing up unannounced when you know a friend is in need is decidedly within reason.
Aria may not have the greatest depth of experience, but she’s certain this is what Griffin would do for her in a comparable situation.
Aria parallel parks on the street, then walks right through the front door.
She waits for the elevator and presses the button for the penthouse when she enters.
She breathes a sigh of relief that it doesn’t require a special fob or passcode, and when the elevator stops, the doors slide open before a single front door.
Aria walks up and knocks.
She waits. Eventually Aria knocks again, louder this time.
Could Griffin be staying elsewhere? Maybe somewhere with support staff?
It would surprise Aria if he wasn’t already up on crutches after all the stories he shared about his first knee recovery, bragging about the skills he developed getting around on them.
Just as Aria is about to turn and leave, the door clicks open to reveal a tired Griffin, crutches inserted below his arms.
“Hey!” Aria is bright, the happiness at seeing him a natural response despite his situation.
“Hey.” Griffin’s face sags, not a hint of a smile.
“I’m sorry, is now a bad time? I texted. And called.” Aria laughs at herself playfully. “I was worried and wanted to see if I could help in any way.”
Griffin casts his eyes downward, and the difference in him since Aria saw him last is striking. The man before her is drawn and serious and completely foreign from the man who bemoaned his inability to take home one of the bunnies at the pet adoption event.
“Sure, come on in, but fair warning that I’m not the best company right now.”
“Of course,” Aria says quietly.
Griffin bites on his lip for a beat before turning and leading the way. He wrestles with the crutches, navigating the turns of his condo like he’s still finding his footing with them.
“You take a seat, and I’ll help. What do you need? I can cook, clean, or run errands, but I can’t promise the cooking will be particularly tasty.” Aria tries on a cheery tone.
Griffin stops at the kitchen, and he slowly lowers himself onto a barstool at the peninsula. He lets out a sigh. “You’re all good. The team has already lined up people to help me with all of that stuff.”
Aria’s hands drop at her sides, and a flash of helplessness catches inside her. “Well, you have to let me help somehow.” She wanders over to the open living area that’s connected and passes through it to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Wow. You weren’t kidding about the view.”
When Aria turns around, Griffin is gazing at the windows, dazed and nodding. “Did you get a concussion from the hit?”
“No, but it sure feels like my brain is misfiring.” He glances at his knee, wrapped in bandages. “It’s like it’s too much to process right now.”
Aria walks back over to him, and she grabs one of his hands and holds it with both of hers. “I’m here for you, Griff. I’m so sorry this happened to you. It’s okay to feel mixed up, and I know you’ll work through this. I know you have a comeback in you.”
Aria does her best with the pep talk, hoping she hit the right notes. She smiles at Griffin as she releases his hand and gently rubs his shoulder.
He looks up and pulls a belabored smile. “Thanks. We’ll have to see about the ‘comeback.’ It was a pretty bad hit.”
“Yeah?” Aria pulls her brows together in concern.
Griffin waves her off. “I’d rather not rehash it again. I’ve already talked to the coaches and my agent and the athletic trainers and the doctor, and one more round might just take it out of me.”
“Say no more.” Aria dashes around the peninsula into the kitchen, locates the pantry, and pulls out the specialty popcorn she sent over. “We have snacks; all we need is a movie.”
Griffin smiles the smallest of smiles—the first real one of the day—when Aria prods him to get up. “You’re making me move?” he pretends to complain.
“Well, you can’t quite sit for a whole movie on that hard stool. I’m here to stay awhile.”
During the movie Aria sneaks glances over at Griffin every few minutes—as much as she reasonably can without being noticed.
Though their friendship is still new, she’s never seen him like this before.
Frankly, she never could have imagined him so shaken and down.
An impulse to take care of him thrums inside her, and it’s why when he eventually dozes off, she looks over more often.
If only she had a magic wand, Aria would wave it over his knee, then double tap it on his heart to revive the real him.
Maybe Griffin won’t need her for household tasks—and perhaps that’s for the best in some categories, considering her skill set—but Aria has decided: She will be at Griffin’s side through this thing.
He may be hurting, but she’ll make sure he won’t be alone.