Chapter 25 #2
I sit up, pulse jumping.
Are you safe?
Trouble
yes im safe
promise
just worried
Worried? I frown, thumbs already typing.
Where are you?
No reply comes. I wait, minutes feeling like hours.
She’s either ignoring it or debating telling me the truth.
Trouble
i shouldn’t hve called you
txted you
whatver
nvm im good
The grammar is off and she’s trying too hard to sound put together. Is she drunk?
Are you alone?
Trouble
kind of.
but im ok. dnt worry. im just bein dumb
Something twists in my chest. Tiana wouldn’t have messaged if nothing was wrong. We don’t casually text each other unless it has to do with Sylas or the schedule.
Tiana.
Trouble
oh god am I in trouble when u type just my name
Despite her trying to make jokes, I know something is off.
Send me your location.
Trouble
why? I’m frine griffin
Just do it, Jones.
Her live location pops up on my screen. She’s at a bar downtown—one of the loud, neon places I always avoid, all tequila sloshing and men who don’t know how to take no for an answer.
I don’t even finish reading the address. I’m already out of bed, yanking my shirt over my head as I stalk down the hallway. My keys catch on a dish by the door. The whole house is dead silent except for my own heartbeat, pounding so hard I feel it in my teeth.
My mind cycles through every worst-case scenario. By the time I pull up to the club, my hands are shaking.
I spot Tiana immediately: knees to her chest, head hunched forward, sitting on the curb under a shattered halo of streetlight. Her phone is open on the ground in front of her, notifications lighting up her face every few seconds, but she doesn’t seem to see any of them.
Tiana has never looked small to me until now. She’s always been larger than life, but right now she’s folding in on herself, trying to disappear and crying hard, hand clamped over her mouth. Mascara rivers run down her cheeks.
I’m out of the truck before I’ve even processed the motion.
“Tiana.”
She doesn’t look up at first. I crouch down beside her. I want to reach for her, but I don’t know if I should. “Sugar. Hey. Look at me.”
Tiana lifts her head, and her eyes are red and swollen, tears still coming fast. She tries to wipe them away with the back of her hand, but it just smudges the makeup worse. Her voice is shredded raw. “Griffin, you’re here. I—” She shakes her head, hair sticking to her wet cheeks.
I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. She’s shivering. It’s chilly, but I know that isn’t why she’s shaking.
“I didn’t know who else to text.” It comes out in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m here. And I’ll keep being here.” I pause. “Even when I shouldn’t be.”
All at once I want to scoop her up, take her home, and hurt whoever did this to her, and I don’t know which urge is stronger.
“What happened?”
Tiana won’t look at me. Her fingers fiddle with the lining of my jacket, twisting it into a knot. “It’s nothing. I just…” She glances over at the bar doors, and her whole body recoils.
“Who is it?” I ask, and this time there’s an edge to my words. “Did someone touch you?”
She hesitates for a few moments before letting out a shaky exhale. “He kept grabbing my arm and wouldn’t let go. Tried to…” she cuts herself off. “I said no. He said he was just joking, but—” Tiana’s voice breaks. “He wouldn’t stop.”
My hands clench so tight I hear my knuckles pop, and I’m on my feet before I even realize it. My body acts on instinct, and I see red. I want to put my fist through the asshole’s teeth.
Tiana’s hand darts out and catches my wrist. “Don’t. Please.”
But I can’t hear her. The only way to extinguish it is violence or distance, and I know which one I’ll choose.
“Where is he?” My voice comes out low. Too calm, not matching what’s happening in my chest.
Her eyes widen and her shoulders hitch. “No, Griffin. Please don’t make a scene.”
I’m done listening.
I help her up, steering her gently to the truck. I tuck her in, blast the heat.
“Stay here.”
She shakes her head, still crying. “Griffin—”
“I’m not asking.”
I shut the door before she can argue and storm toward the club entrance. At the front, I slip a hundred-dollar bill into the bouncer’s hand without breaking stride.
“Watch my truck.”
He nods and doesn’t ask questions.
Inside, the air is thick and humid, music vibrating through the walls. I look completely out of place in my light jeans, worn sweatshirt and boots among the neon-pulsing crowd of designer clothes and overpriced watches, but I don’t care.
I’m sure he’ll be where visibility is highest. I scan faces, but it’s hard to make out features in all the haze. But a guy like that—one who thinks he’s untouchable—doesn’t hide.
I look up to the VIP booths, and there is Markell, leaning back against a couch with a cocky grin, like he owns the place.
I don’t think, just move.
He looks up when I reach him, confusion crossing his face before I grab a fistful of his collar and slam him against the wall. My jaw is clenched tight enough to crack.
The music swallows most of the impact, but a few heads turn anyway. Some of his friends freeze, though no one steps in.
His eyes widen. “What the fuck? Who the hell are you?”
“Did you touch her?”
“Who—who are you talking about?”
“You know who,” I seethe, my grip tightening around his neck. “Did. You. Hurt. Her?”
Markell falters, Adam’s apple bobbing hard. “I—I didn’t mean anything—she got upset— I—”
“She is crying,” I bite out. “What did you do?” I lean in, close enough for him to feel my words. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to pummel your face for making her cry?”
He swallows again, hands lifting in pitiful defense. “Look, it—it wasn’t like that—”
I let him go. Not because I want to. Because if I don’t, I won’t stop.
Markell slides down the wall, and I crouch beside him.
“You will never look in her direction again. And if you ever touch her… If you even make her uncomfortable, I will not let you walk away next time.”
I’ve never been violent. I’ve never even wanted to be. But something about this—about her—flips a switch in me I didn’t know I had.
It’s like something primal, a protectiveness I don’t want but can’t turn off.
I walk away before I do something I can’t take back. It’s not until I’m outside in the cold air again that my heartbeat starts to slow. Tiana is still in my truck, watching me through the window, eyes puffy, face blotched. And still beautiful.
When I climb in, I don’t start the engine right away. I just reach over and buckle Tiana’s seatbelt because she’s shaking too hard to do it.
“You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
I grit my teeth. “No, but I wanted to.”
She sniffs. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
“I could tell by the way you were texting me. Are you drunk?” I make sure to use a reassuring tone so she doesn’t think I’m judging her. This isn’t her fault.
Tiana lets out a shuddering breath and nods. “How did you know who it was?”
My hands tighten around the wheel. “Let’s just say it was a good guess.”
“I’m glad you came,” she whispers after a few moments.
I don’t look at her. If I do, I might reach over and take her hand, and I absolutely shouldn’t.
Tiana doesn’t have to know there never really was a choice. The second her name lit up my screen… Even if I’d been in another city, I would’ve found a way to get to her. I’d burn down all the miles in between just to see her safe.
“I’ll always come if you call.”
The thought of that tightens something behind my sternum and loosens it at the same time. And I don’t know what to do with that.
Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt. “I just want to go home.”
Home.
Tiana called my house her home.
Something shifts in my chest.
“Of course.”
We spend the rest of the drive in silence. City lights blur past us, and Tiana’s head eventually tilts, then sways, before resting against the window as her eyes drift closed.
When we get home, I kill the engine and glance over. Tiana is fully asleep, lips parted, long lashes fluttering against her cheeks, fingers still curled loosely in the fabric of my flannel.
I don’t want to wake her, so I walk around the car and gently unbuckle her seatbelt.
She barely stirs when I lift her, her small body curling into my chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Her warmth seeps through my shirt, and she sighs, the sound going straight to my chest and lodging itself there.
I hold her a little closer than I probably should and carry her inside. She’s limp in my arms, breathing slow and even. Carefully, I crouch and slip off her heels, one at a time, setting them beside the entry table.
I take her upstairs, her head tucked beneath my chin. Not wanting to cross any lines, I don’t change her out of her clothes. I lay her gently on her bed, pull the blanket over her, and tuck her hair away from her cheek.
Then I start to slip quietly toward the door.
“Don’t go.” Tiana’s voice is soft. Groggy yet clear.
I hesitate, hand on the doorknob. She blinks at me, eyes half-lidded and vulnerable.
“Stay. Please,” she whispers. Fuck.
I swallow. Then, against my better judgment, I nod once and walk back to the bed, easing onto the mattress.
Tiana shifts and presses her back against me.
Her ass finds my hips, like it belongs there. My pulse detonates, and I bite down on a low groan, clenching my jaw.
Jesus Christ.
Her sweet scent wraps around me, and all I can think about is how close she is. How soft. How good it feels.
I tell myself to keep it together. To not react. But then she starts to cry. It’s silent, though I can feel the tremor in her shoulders and the way her breath hitches.
I lift a hand, tentative, and find her hair, stroking it gently.
“Tell me what happened, Sugar.”
She sniffles. “My ex-boyfriend asked me out. I thought maybe talking to him one last time would help. Like maybe I needed closure too.” Her fingers twist together in her lap. “So I agreed to dinner.”
The more she talks, the worse the feeling in my gut becomes.