CHAPTER 16 - BRYNN
Jovie’s high-pitched giggle pulls me from a deep sleep, and I reach across the bed, noticing there’s a small body missing, and that it’s been that way for a while because the sheets are already cold.
My eyelids feel like steel doors, but I pry them open, squinting as I try to make out the unfamiliar surroundings.
Grizz’s cabin.
Jesus, it wasn’t just a dream.
The fire, the storm, the shower.
Oh god, the shower.
Without thinking, I press my thighs together, fighting the wave of warmth that instantly sinks between them, gently pulsing. Grizz was… he is… even my thoughts catch on a stammer as I think back to how last night Grizz had treated my body as if it were some kind of temple.
He stripped my clothes away, cleaned my body, and washed my hair.
He didn’t rush or try to take more than what was offered.
He just took care of me.
I exhale, throwing myself back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. My heart races and I can’t help but lick my lips and let my eyes flutter closed again, wishing for my dreams to swallow me back up so I can relive those moments.
No one’s ever treated me that way before.
No one has ever looked at my body as if it’s something to be treasured, not conquered.
Though… I don’t exactly object to Grizz planting his flag in me.
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss under my breath and swipe my hand down my face, scrubbing at my eyes to try and force them to wake up. “One orgasm and I’ve lost all my senses.”
The faint sound of Jovie’s laugh carries through the cabin again, this time followed by the low rumble of Grizz’s voice. It always sounds a little rough, with a hard edge, but when he talks to Jovie, there’s a distinct change in his tone.
I sit up, tucking the blanket around my body and listening.
I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the back and forth between them is enough to slap a smile on my face, and within a few seconds, I find myself swinging my legs over the side of the bed—my fear of missing out, winning this battle.
I have no idea what Grizz’s comforter is made of, but the second I’m on my feet and it’s off my body, the cold air bites at my skin.
I’m sure I can already feel the snow surrounding us, the chill seeping through the cabin walls, so I grab the first thing I can find—one of Grizz’s flannels from the back of the chair in the corner—and pull it over my head.
It drowns me.
But that’s the best part.
Easing the door open silently, I catch sight of the two of them in the kitchen.
Well, Grizz is in the kitchen. Jovie is above it.
She’s sitting at the edge of a lofted storage space, her legs swinging as she drags dusty old boxes toward her and tosses them down for Grizz to catch.
I watch them move like a well-oiled machine—wondering just how long they’ve been out here with the number of boxes and other random containers now cluttered around the small space.
A small cloud of dust explodes into the air as another box lands in Grizz’s arms, and he coughs, waving it away.
Jovie leans over the edge with an apologetic smile. “Sorry! I probably shouldn’t have put that old photo album in there.”
“It’s not that old,” he mutters, setting the box down with a pile of others.
“It’s older than me,” Jovie says with a shrug.
He coughs, swiping a hand in front of his face again to clear the air as he looks up at her. “Kid, I’ve got socks older than you, now, what did I say about sitting too close to the edge?”
Jovie lets out a heavy sigh, but instantly scoots back.
That one gesture shouldn’t make my heart ache.
It shouldn’t make me feel butterflies in my stomach.
It’s not just him trying to keep her safe and protect her, it’s her responding to him. It’s the way they’ve already become this team and built a relationship that has trust and communication.
Tears begin to well, but I fight them back, instead, clearing my throat.
“You two opening some kind of moving company?” I question over the ruckus, and both their heads snap my way. Jovie grins and waves excitedly.
“Look, Mom! We’re making me a bedroom!”
Grizz wipes his hands on his jeans, his eyes dragging over my body slowly and stopping suddenly at the hem of his flannel and where it falls just brushing mid-thigh.
Something like lightning sparks in his eyes, but he’s quick to blink it away, refusing to give in to the electricity that I can still feel crackling between us.
And I’m thankful he fights it, because his self-control seems a lot stronger than mine, and I’m not sure at which point we're going to reveal this romance to Jovie.
“A bedroom?” I question, my head falling to the side.
He nods, pushing a couple of boxes out of the way to make space for what seems like the last few. “Yeah,” he says, nodding up to the loft. “Jon Bon needs her own space, and better she have it than my piles of junk.”
“Hey! Enough chattering down there!” Jovie calls over her shoulder as she scrambles back into the space to grab the last few things. “Back to work!”
Grizz’s gaze meets mine and he doesn’t waste the moment, wrapping his hand around my neck and dragging my mouth to his.
I can’t help but grin and sink into his body, my hands pressed to his chest and my fingers twisting into his shirt as he steals every breath of air from my lungs.
There’s a slight bitter taste of coffee on his lips, the damn man refusing to drink it any way other than black.
Yet, when he pulls back, I still can’t help but lick my lips and lean in for another.
It's quick, hungry, and leaves us both fighting for air.
“Mornin’,” he murmurs quietly, brushing a stray hair back from my face. “You look fucking good in my shirt.”
I chuckle and shove at his chest, pushing him away just as Jovie appears again above us. “Grizz, have you been to San Francisco?” she asks, holding a large book in her arms with pictures collaged across the front—one being the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Nope,” he answers, turning to look up at her. “Why’s tha…” His words fall off when he sees what’s in her arms, and he struggles to clear his throat again before he speaks. “I uh… didn’t know that was up there.”
Jovie’s face sinks, feeling the sudden change in the air, and she puts the book to the side, pushing it away. “We can leave it,” she offers, but Grizz is already shaking his head and moving forward so he’s standing under her.
“No, grab it and I’ll help you down,” he says, holding his arms up to get her as she cautiously gathers the offending object and shuffles to the edge of the loft, Grizz holding her tightly as she slips off the edge and into his arms.
The air has changed.
It’s heavier than before.
And not necessarily in a negative way, but in a way that you can tell this book is something important. It holds something in it that Grizz finds hard to carry with him.
But I still watch him carry Jovie across to the sofa and place her down, taking a seat beside her.
He looks back over his shoulder, nodding for me to join them, and I gently pad over and sink onto the couch on the other side of Jovie, placing my arm around her shoulder so I can cuddle her, but also touch him if I feel like he needs it.
The book rests in Jovie’s lap, her finger delicately tracing the cracks in the leather as she waits patiently for Grizz to find his words. The silence isn’t long, but it’s thick, and the way he’s clenching his jaw makes me scared for how many teeth he might have at the end of this.
“It was my mom’s,” he finally says, his voice so low that I almost don’t hear it over the crackle of the fireplace a few feet away. “She had this thing for travelling. Said one day she was going to see the whole country, then after that, the world.”
Jovie looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Did she get to?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. She never got the chance before she died.” It’s like someone has sat on my chest, those words so heavy it’s hard to breathe. I brush my fingers over his shoulder, and the muscle jumps just a little, but he doesn’t pull away. “Open it up, Jon Bon.”
She lifts the front cover so carefully, and inside, a worn and faded map of the United States is glued across the two front pages.
It’s a little torn at the edges and covered in smudges and smears of god knows what, but on each state, there’s a tiny arrow sticker pointing to a place, and something printed perfectly beside it.
Arizona – Grand Canyon at Sunrise.
California – Golden Gate Bridge.
Illinois – Chicago Deep Dish.
Grizz flips to the next page, and it’s even more detailed with pictures cut from magazines and little drawings of each place and why she wanted to go there.
“She started this before I was born, but I remember her adding to it all the time,” Grizz murmurs, with a single finger on the edge of the page. “We would sit at the table and talk about it. How long it would take, how much money we needed to save, and then one day we’d see it all.”
“You could still go,” Jovie whispers, placing her finger beside his.
“Yeah, maybe,” he answers, his eyes still stuck to the page.
It’s obvious he doesn’t believe it.
Not yet, at least.
But maybe one day, he will want to go and release all those ghosts that are weighing him down, and stand in all those places they talked of and dreamed of. The places they imagined and the experiences they dreamed up together.
And maybe he won't have to do it alone.