9. Griffin
Chapter 9
Griffin
I push open the door to Cuppa Jo to see Taryn and Ian are already tucked into our usual booth, coffees steaming in front of them. I slide in next to my brother, who hands me my coffee order with a “Hey, Cap.”
“Thanks.”
Taryn blows over the top of hers. “How was work?”
“Same old.”
Ian slaps my back. “It’s all saving cats from trees and little old ladies from breaking hips, huh?”
“We can’t all be like you, barely working.”
Ian stretches out his legs beneath the table. “What can I say? I’m good at my job.”
It’s true. Ian’s tattoo shop is popular. He has waiting lists months long and can make his own schedule.
“What about you?” I ask my sister. “How are you?”
Out of all of us, Taryn works the hardest. She’s always on the go, conquering the world, a single mom and manager of the bed-and-breakfast. Her ex-husband is a piece of shit, refusing to lighten an ounce of her load, and the only thing I’d love more than punching him in the throat would be for her to take a nap.
“I’m all right,” she says, as always.
“How are the kids?” Ian asks, as always. He’s our older brother, with eight years on me and nine on Taryn, but in a lot of ways, he’s more of a dad than our own ever was. Even now, when we’re all coming up on middle age, he’s the one who makes sure we meet up for coffee and checks up on our kids. For holidays and birthdays, he’s the one who gets us together as often as possible.
“Kids are good,” Taryn says after a sip of her coffee. “Jake’s been working hard, training for soccer, and the school musical is coming up for Maddie.”
“Right.” Ian taps his finger on the table a few times. “I want to make sure I get tickets.”
“Me too,” I add, and Taryn flips her cell phone around to type something in.
“I’ll send you the link. Seats are first come, first serve.”
Ian drags his hand over his graying beard a few times. “My kids will be there too, so I’ll make sure to go early and save everyone seats.”
Ian’s kids are all in their early twenties, and between his biological ones and the “strays”—as Taryn so aptly puts it—he’s picked up along the way, he’s got half a dozen or so. I can’t keep track, but I can say I love spending time with the entire family. Especially if it’s to support one of the kids. We make sure we all show up for them since we know what it’s like to grow up with a single mom who scrimped and saved and struggled to make it work. In her honor, we try to be better for our children.
Which is why I feel so bad about mine.
Their whole life, they’ve only ever had me, and I sort of hate that for them. I’m not the best dad. I’m better than my own, but I often doubt my own abilities. It’s why I need a full-time nanny, because my kids need more than I can give them. And I know I’m hard on them, but I don’t know how else to be.
Our dad was a drunk, in and out of our mother’s life, and because of that, I crave stability and order. Didn’t need the VA’s psychologist to tell me that, but he did make me realize I had to do something about it.
I need my kids to know I will always provide for them. I will always keep them safe. I would quite literally die for those I love before I let anything bad happen to them.
I try to shake off my dark thoughts as someone calls out, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite family.”
We all look up to find Clara walking toward our table while Marianne orders their drinks at the counter.
“How are we today?” The three of us mutter some type of greeting, and she laughs. “Just rays of sunshine, you all are.”
Ian lifts his coffee in silent salute.
Clara pops her hand on her hip and tips her chin to me. “I know you have that fundraiser for the fire department next month, and I had a thought. What about a calendar?”
“A calendar?”
“Yeah. A sexy one, you know? Oil all of you up, and I could take some pictures. I bet you’d raise a lot of money.”
Taryn snorts. Ian slaps his hand on my back again. “How ’bout it, Cappy? Or should I say, Mr. July?”
Clara beams. “Oh my god! That would be perfect for you. With your face and background? It’s perfect for July Fourth.”
I slice my hand through the air. “I don’t think so.”
Clara sighs in time for Marianne to appear with their coffees. “Here, babe. Why are you pouting?”
“Our esteemed fire captain shot down my calendar idea.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Marianne says, not at all surprised. She and Taryn have been friends since they were little. At this point, she and Clara are basically part of our family.
“Come on, Griffin,” Clara goes on. “You’re hot. Make some money off it. Get a couple of your buddies. The ladies will love it.”
“You’re gonna make my brother self-conscious,” Taryn deadpans. “He’s real shy.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I grumble and take a sip from my coffee.
Marianne gestures to me with her to-go cup. “How’s it working out with Andi?”
“It’s good.”
Clara and Marianne both wait for more.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s good. It’s fine,” Clara parrots with an eye roll. “I thought there would be more to say than that. Or, I don’t know…” She shrugs theatrically. “Maybe, thank you so much, Clara and Marianne, for finding the perfect nanny for my kids.”
I repeat her words flatly. “Thank you so much, Clara and Marianne, for finding the perfect nanny for my kids.”
“And you?” she urges, curling her hands. Clara’s a huge gossip. “Do you like her?”
I play off her question, skating my gaze out to the windows, looking toward Aster Street. “Yeah, she’s great.”
Taryn, the goddamn traitor, speaks up. “Don’t try to hide it. You brought her to my B&B and paid for her room.”
Marianne whistles quietly, playacting at wonder, but she won’t be winning any awards any time soon.
Ian wrenches his head back. “You didn’t tell me that.”
I don’t tell my siblings much of anything, particularly about my personal life. “Why would I tell you that?”
“Because you made it seem like she was just a stranger you were helping out.”
“She was a stranger I was just helping out,” I say, and Ian shakes his head at me then looks to Taryn, Clara, and Marianne, in turn.
“How many of you have rescued someone from the side of the road, paid for a hotel, and then hired them to be your nanny?” When none of them answers, my brother raises his brow to me as if it proves a point. It doesn’t prove anything besides he’s an asshole.
And, yes, I rescued Andi from the side of the road and made sure she was safe with a roof over her head before I knew anything about her, but our mother always said, “When you can be anything, be kind.”
“I was just being fucking kind,” I say, earning smirks and snickers from everyone. If they ever found out I’d paid for her car to be fixed, I’d be boxed even more into a corner.
As it is now, I don’t have much of a leg to stand on. Nothing to say in self-defense.
“We thought she’d be good for you,” Marianne tells me, and her wife winks.
“Real good for you.”
I scowl at her. “Stop trying to set people up.”
She smiles like she’s cute. “Never. It’s my life’s calling.”
“To get into everyone’s business?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
Clara pokes my shoulder. “I will have you know I have an intuition about these things.”
At that, Marianne rolls her eyes. “That what your horoscope told you this morning?”
“No.” Clara wraps her arm around Marianne’s waist. “But, heads up, Jupiter and Uranus will be in alignment next week. This only happens every fourteen years, so it’ll be huge.”
Marianne huffs and takes Clara’s hand. “All right, enough of cosmic energies. We have to get back.”
Clara lets herself be marched away, smiling as she tells us, “It’ll be a new cycle for creativity or rebellion!”
“Hear that?” Ian squeezes my shoulder. “It’s rebellion time for you, Cap.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Doubt it.”
Taryn studies me with her dark eyes, the same ones we all share.
When she doesn’t say anything, I push her. “What?”
She lifts a careless shoulder. “Nothing. I just think it’s interesting. You meet this girl, are kind to her—” she adds air quotes to her words like an asshole “—but you’ve never treated anyone else like that before. You never brought anyone else to me, demanding a room.”
Ian inclines his head. “You also texted me to ask if you should hire her. Never done that before.”
“Because I’ve never hired anyone outside of an agency before.” Then I turn to my sister. “And what did you want me to do? Leave her on the side of the road with no car?”
“No, she’s an adult. I’d let her fend for herself.”
“Cutthroat,” I say as Ian huffs an amused sound.
“Our sister, the fucking gladiator. Only the strong survive.”
Taryn drops her gaze to the table, though I’m not sure if it’s to hide a growing smile or to shake her head in dismay. My sister is a warrior and has very little patience for anyone who can’t keep up.
Which only makes me think of Andi and her gentle spirit and sweet smile. I don’t want her to be a warrior. Not if she doesn’t have to be. I don’t want her jaded. If anything, I want her to remain soft and tender. I’d protect her, if I had to. If I could.
I’d keep her safe. Do all the fighting for her.
“Just watch it,” my sister eventually says, her eyes back on mine. “Be careful with her, okay? Your kids need someone to stick around. Don’t do anything to screw it up.”
I know that already. I’m trying my best.
“Hey.” My brother elbows my side for my attention. “You’re a good dad.”
I don’t believe him, but I thank him anyway, and we all get up to say goodbye. Ian has a tattoo appointment in a few minutes, and Taryn’s lunch break is over. Since she walked from work, I follow her across the street to where I’m parked.
“Before you go,” she says, catching my arm with one hand, her coffee, keys, cell phone, and wallet in the other. I’ve always been amazed at how she can carry fourteen thousand things in her hands without dropping any of them. Claws of steel. “I’ve got everything planned for Ian’s party, but I’m putting you in charge of getting hold of Roman.”
“You’re kidding me.” I drop my head back to my shoulders. I should be grateful that Taryn is planning our brother’s surprise 50th birthday party, but chasing down our little brother is the last thing I want to do.
“No. I’m not. I did everything else. You can do that.”
“He won’t show, so why do we have to invite him?”
“Because Ian would want him there.”
It’s not because he’s our sibling and we’re family. It’s because Ian wants him there. Not her and not me. Our eldest sibling has always had a soft spot for our youngest. I don’t fucking get it since the guy’s a selfish prick, but… “Whatever.”
“I’ll see you later, brother,” she says, and I briefly tug her to me for a hug.
“See you, sister.”
She fights a smile and punches my arm before heading in the direction of The Nest. Taryn and I are only a year apart and have always been close. Closer to each other than to Ian, our protective big brother, and Roman, the baby. We stuck to each other as kids and continue to as adults. And while I appreciate Ian, it’s Taryn’s words that follow me home.
Don’t do anything to screw it up.
Which is really fucking hard when I step into my house and see Andi in the living room in a skimpy little top and leggings, doing yoga with one arm out in front of her and the other holding her foot up behind her.
I loudly thunk my keys on the counter so she knows I’m home, which causes her to pop up to standing. And that’s worse. Because she faces me with pink dimpled cheeks on either side of her wide smile and nipples beaded beneath the thin light-blue material covering her tits. It’s basically a bra, revealing her toned and tanned stomach with a belly button ring. I remember back in high school, all the girls were trying to be like Britney Spears and getting them pierced. I didn’t realize it was still a thing to do. But now that I’ve seen the small jewel, I can’t look anywhere else.
My sister’s voice rings in my head. Don’t do anything to screw it up.
“Hey, sorry. I’ve been doing this in my room, but it’s hard to do all the stretches and poses, so I came up here. I hope?—”
“It’s fine. Do whatever you need to do. This is your house too.” I force my eyes up to hers. “How did everything go yesterday?”
She smiles, but something is off about it. “Good. Great. Really good.”
I eye her, and she smiles brighter. Faker.
I’m sure whatever the problem is, I’ll find out eventually, but first, I have to take care of the problem stirring to life in my sweats. I tip my chin toward her mat and laptop, playing a yoga video. “Are you going to be long?”
“About thirty more minutes.”
“I’m gonna grab a shower.” I already took one at the firehouse, but another won’t hurt when I’ve got this new image of Andi to yank it to.
I move to the steps, her voice trailing behind me. “Okay, have fun!” Halfway up, I hear say to herself, “Have fun? What is that?”
It’s cute how she’s tied up. Because even though I promised to keep my hands off her, there’s no way I’m not thinking of her while I take care of myself.
Every fucking day with her being here is Hell Week.
And it’s no fun at all.
Especially when I’m underneath the spray of water, washing the ropes of my come down the drain.