Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Reese
T he pounding in my skull feels like a marching band took up residence behind my eyes.
My mouth is dry as the Sahara, my stomach twisted into knots, and the hot shower I just crawled out of did nothing but steam up the mirror and remind me how much easier this used to be in my twenties.
When I was Griffin’s age. Yet another reminder of why this whole love concept was a ridiculous idea—if it was ever an idea at all.
Probably just one I conjured up in my head.
The room is quiet when I pad back out, towel wrapped around my hair. No sign of him. Figures. Maybe he finally came to his senses.
I’m halfway to convincing myself to explore town—or maybe just pack up and drive back to New York—when the door swings open. Griffin strolls in, balancing a paper bag and two coffees.
“Morning, belleza,” he says, flashing me a smile.
I squint at him, wincing. “Why are you awake? It’s not eight yet.”
He sets the bag on the little table by the window, sliding one cup toward me. “Because you needed breakfast. Figured you shouldn’t face the day on an empty stomach.”
I lift a hand as if I can turn down the volume of the world. “Please. Everything’s too loud right now.”
He presses a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin into my palm. “Got you covered.” His fingers brush the damp ends of my hair, skimming the nape of my neck, and it’s ridiculous how much that one touch steadies me.
I sink into the chair and nibble at the pancakes and bacon he sets in front of me. The food settles my stomach, but exhaustion drags me back under fast.
When I slump back in the chair, Griffin hooks a thumb toward the bed. “Come on. Lie down, get a few more hours of sleep.”
I hesitate. “Wait, are you leaving?”
He kicks off his boots, leaning against the dresser like he’s weighing it. “I was planning on catching a few hours myself. Unless you want me to go.”
“No, I’d like you to stay.” The words tumble out before I can second-guess them.
But I mean every one.
My heart aches as badly as my head, but right now, this tiny town in the Oregon wilderness feels too cold to face alone.
He nods once, quiet, then climbs onto the bed beside me, staying on top of the blankets. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
I feel almost human when I wake a couple of hours later. Not fully there, but at least the marching band has switched to a two- piece acoustic set. The TV hums softly in the background, some old spaghetti western playing.
I blink blearily toward the opposite side of the bed and catch Griffin studying me instead of the movie.
Dragging a hand over my face, I push my hair back. “How long was I out?”
“Two hours,” he says, an easy grin tugging at his mouth. “Are you feeling better? Almost human again?”
I snort. “That might be pushing it. Thanks for breakfast and letting me sleep.”
“Not a problem. You know I’d do anything for you.”
Yeah, for the right amount of money, you’ll play any part.
My chest tightens at the thought, but I shove it down. I know I need to speak to Griffin, confront him about his deal with my sister and let him know how much they both hurt me. But I’m not ready—not yet. Because once I hear the truth from his lips, it’s over.
No more fantasy.
No more pretending.
So I wait. Wait until my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to seize. Until I’m sure I won’t break down in tears the second I try to face the truth. Until I’m strong enough to speak it out loud.
“You okay?”
I snap out of my reverie and catch Griffin’s bright blue eyes fixed on me. “Still waking up.”
He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor. “Go jump in the shower again—trust me, you’ll feel better afterwards. Then we’re going somewhere.”
A stilted laugh escapes me. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve alcohol.”
He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I think you’re set for the weekend.”
“I think I’m set for the next year.” I rub my temples, trying to ease the pounding there. “I was trying to drink away the pain.”
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his gaze catching mine for a beat. “That never works.”
Oh, how I wish it did.
But the pain from yesterday is still fresh, ripping open anew every time I look at him and remind myself it was never real.
At this point, I don’t know what is anymore.
By the time we climb into his truck, I’m maybe fifty percent human. Might even make it to seventy-five by the end of the day if I’m lucky.
Griffin doesn’t disclose our destination, just eases his truck onto the highway.
The drive winds us higher into the Cascades until we pull up to a pretty condo complex—modern lines, wood accents, nestled against tall evergreens. It’s almost too perfect, like something from a glossy lifestyle magazine.
I glance at him warily. “Do you know someone here?”
“Yes, someone very important.”
I click my tongue against my teeth. “Are we visiting Lauren?”
Griffin jerks his head toward me, eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would I take you to visit Lauren?”
I toss up a hand before taking another swig of water. “I don’t know. Because you like her?”
And you’re probably going to marry her? Live a big fancy life with her?
Ugh, I’m feeling nauseous again.
“We are definitely not visiting Lauren.” He kills the engine and hops out. “Stay put and I’ll come around.”
As if. I push the door open and climb out on my own.
He’s already circling the hood, eyebrows lifting. “I was coming to let you out.”
“I can manage fine on my own,” I shoot back.
“You are so stubborn, you know that?” He closes the distance, catches my hand, and links our fingers tight enough that I can’t wriggle free. “Come on.”
Before I can protest, he shifts so I’m walking just ahead of him, his palm anchored at my waist where our hands are joined. His other arm slides easily around me, settling across my shoulders, his hand warm against my collarbone.
And damn, it feels so nice to be in his arms again.
Stop it, Reese. It’s not real. He’s not real.
I don’t know what the hell this is.
“Are you holding me so I don’t run away?”
He bends low, lips brushing my ear, the faintest graze against my neck. “No,” he murmurs, his voice rough, intense. “I’m holding you because I love the feel of you in my arms. Plus, I’m excited.”
Oh, boy. I think I’m at my quota for surprises this year.
Griffin releases my hand so he can jab the buzzer. Twenty seconds later, a woman’s voice crackles through the intercom, sharp with surprise.
“What in the world are you doing here?”
“Surprising you,” Griffin replies, tone smug.
“Oh, my God.” There’s a laugh behind the words, disbelieving but delighted.
I glance between him and the speaker, utterly lost. “What’s going on?”
“I brought someone with me,” Griffin adds, shooting me a quick look.
“I bet I know who it is,” the voice chirps.
That makes one of us.
A buzz sounds, and the lock clicks.
We step inside, the air cool and faintly scented with coffee and cinnamon.
The condo is beautiful—wide open, with sun streaming through tall windows.
Everything about the space feels thoughtful: wide doorways, no clutter, an easy flow that makes it clear the home was designed to be lived in comfortably.
A Western warmth lingers in the décor—leather, wood, and color that’s cozy without trying too hard.
“I’m in the kitchen,” the same voice calls. “Come on back.”
I shoot Griffin a wary glance.
“Go ahead,” he says, giving me a gentle nudge.
My stomach knots as I step forward, certain every ounce of trepidation is written all over my face.
I round the corner into the kitchen, where a young woman sits at the table with a cutting board in front of her, deftly chopping vegetables.
Her face breaks into a sunny smile when she glances up.
“Griffin,” she beams.
He pulls off his hat as he crosses the room, revealing the sharp buzz cut above his beard.
The woman lets out a low whistle. “Whoa. Who are you?” She flicks a glance at me, eyes dancing. “Is this your doing?”
I lift both hands in surrender. “Nope. Not guilty.”
The woman laughs, shaking her head as she gazes up at Griffin. “Well, it works on you.”
“Pretty much everything does,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
Griffin’s mouth quirks, eyes warm as they meet mine, before he clears his throat. “This is?—”
“I know it’s Reese,” she cuts in, shooting me a knowing smile.
And it’s only then—when he leans down to hug her, his dark head bent close to hers—that I see it. The resemblance is undeniable: the same dark hair, the same piercing blue eyes, even the identical dimple flashing when she grins. Stunning, radiant, unmistakably his blood.
Of course. His sister.
The realization rams through me harder than I expect. Pearl isn’t just family—she’s the most important person in Griffin’s world. And he brought me here. To meet her.
He trusts me enough to let me into this part of his life. That counts for something, right? Maybe I’m not the sexy woman men trip over themselves to take to bed. But I matter enough for this.
And for the first time since yesterday, I feel the ice surrounding my heart crack.
Stepping forward, I clasp her outstretched hands. “Hi, Pearl. I’ve heard so much about you.”
After knowing Pearl for only twenty minutes, I understand exactly why Griffin adores her. She’s sunshine in a bottle—funny, quick, warm in a way that disarms you instantly.
Just like her brother.
She’s also a total spitfire, firing off stories about her escapades in town that have me laughing harder than I have in weeks.
Within minutes, we’ve bonded over food—Pearl loves cooking like I do—and are swapping recipes and debating the best way to prepare chicken while Griffin half-heartedly tries to us cook.
At least he has one flaw, right? Besides not loving me, of course.
Although he would argue that isn’t a flaw, but a preference.
Still, I refuse to let the melancholy linger, choosing instead to focus on his sister.